Sound of Silence(64)

Seconds after he turns the lights down, my lids flutter and then fall closed. I drift off with my missing SEAL sitting vigil and my little man tucked securely next to me.





THE NEXT MORNING discharge comes early. Caden drives us home without a word and although I'm still angry, I think I'd like to end the silent treatment, especially when I catch hold of his eyes in the rearview mirror. Pain slices through their turquoise depths, as does a deep line in his brow. We're both hurting but moving on is hard. It's hard to excuse his distance at Riley's and his absence when I needed him-and, damn it, Leah.

Bear and Garrison are at the house when we arrive. My hand falters on a wave hello. We didn't meet under the best circumstances, and thirty-six hours later, I have on the same outfit I did that night. No matter how sterile a hospital is, I always feel dirty when coming home.

Cara and Tess pull up and follow us in. My heart sinks. The wedding is at sundown, and the bride and her mom fight over who gets to fuss over JT first.

"I'm sor-"

They bat away my apology, miming each other's movements like twins. "Stop that. We have two hours before hair and make-up, and we wouldn't be anywhere else." Cara's gaze flicks to Caden hovering behind my shoulders and back to me. "Why don't you get settled, change clothes, whatever you need. I'll hang with my guy so you two can have some time."

Some time. I don't know if there is enough of it in the world to conquer this mountain. My heart plummets to my stomach, and the room is suddenly too small. With JT cooing at Cara, I retreat, mumbling something about a shower as I rush out. Just as I turn to shut my door, Caden's arm sneaks in, and then his chest and the painful sigh he lets out as he enters. 

"Sunshine."

One word. One word and I crack.

I growl and step forward, a tactical error on my part. He grabs my wrist, tugging me into his arms and holding me impossibly still with his powerful grip to my waist. His gaze burns into me, fierce and determined. Before I can hiss out his name, my hands are pinned to his chest and his mouth slams down on mine. He takes in my indignant scream, using his tongue to tame my anger. But I give a good fight. I squirm against the abuse and his brute strength, straining on his lap when he falls into the chair. My resistance only wedges my ass on his hardening cock. God, what it would be like to hate-fuck this man. He'd hold me down, pin me to a wall, to a bed, to the floor, all of his power humming beneath my fingers and zeroed in on me. It would be so good.

Frustration bubbles up, and I bite his lip. He groans. The bastard groans, and so I do it again, harder this time, but he squeezes my aching, swollen tit in retaliation. Holy fuck. I break away, gasping and arching through the pain. JT hasn't breastfed in hours, nor have I pumped. This is pure torture. Just like Caden Lawless.

"Piper," he breathes out my name as his fingers begin to massage my boob. Oh, God. I wrestle away, but he holds me in place with his free hand, all the while continuing his lewd massage. "I was at Dax and Cara's. On the beach, all night with Bear and Garrison. I drank too much and yes, Leah was there too, but nothing happened. Nothing. Look at me."

I don't want to. The white ceiling is fascinating.

"Look at me," he says in the tone that commands attention.

When that doesn't work, he tweaks my nipple, and I almost come off his lap like Jerry when Tom is about to pounce. My eyes find his-churning surf in turquoise waters. "I fucked up. I know it as well as you. But I didn't do anything we can't recover from."

I forget that I hate hope. It prickles at the back of my mind and opens my heart like a budding flower. He must sense my vulnerability. In a second he slips his fingers under my shirt and flimsy bra, the pretty but impractical lacey thing I wore for him that night. When we're skin against skin, with my spiked nipple poking at his palm, my mind is not the only thing prickling. I grind down on his cock, a punishment for his hurting me, but his eyes flair with desire instead of pain-longing versus agony-and my body flushes with need. I need him.

"Piper?"

I groan, wishing I could hate him, wanting to find that emotion amongst the others churning in my chest. "Caden?"

His gaze flicks to the bed and back to mine. "You do a fucking fantastic silent treatment, but I would like to talk now. Will you let me?"

I cringe, taken back to the days when Mother would tune me out as punishment for breathing, it seemed. I've run away so as not to become her, trapped in a loveless marriage with my only voice that of a husband I despised. But I adapted her stance as soon as my feelings were hurt. I lashed out and then shut down. Tears blur my vision, and squeezing my lids closed in a hard blink does little to clear it. I won't do to Caden what she did to me. He should be heard, and I owe it to myself to listen.