Up to Me(13)

Breathlessly, I watch him drape his jeans over the back of the chair and turn to walk to the bed, folding back the covers and sliding in next to me.

I don’t move a muscle. And, at first, neither does he. After a minute, he reaches for me. The touch of his fingers sliding over my exposed forearm is like pure electricity. It brings chills out on my skin. They race up my arms and down my back, and cause my nipples to furl into tight, aching buds.

I’m surprised and a little disappointed when he urges me onto my side. He pulls me tight against the curve of his body and spoons me from behind.

I can feel every rock hard inch of him pressing into my back side, even through the material of the robe. Before I can even think about the wisdom of it, I wiggle my butt against him. It’s instinct. And desire. My body’s got a mind of its own apparently.

I hear the breath hiss through Cash’s gritted teeth and he grows absolutely still. For several long, tense seconds, he doesn’t move. Neither do I. I want him to touch me, to put his hands and his mouth on me and make me forget the world exists, even for a little while. But when he finally does, touch me that is, it’s to drape his arm over my waist and tuck his fingertips against the bed, under my side. I feel his lips as he nuzzles my neck and my heart melts right inside my chest.

He wants me. I can still feel it. But he’s keeping himself in check for me, for my comfort and my emotional stability. His thoughtfulness pushes me one step closer to never being able to recover from having him in my life, from having met him and known the depth of feeling that I have for him.

For the umpteenth time since meeting Cash, I realize I’m quite possibly in big, big trouble.

Dammit.

We lie quietly together, breathing deeply and evenly, both of us waiting for our bodies to cool. I never thought it could be literally painful to be near someone. But it is. I ache with want, with need. There’s a place, an emptiness that only Cash can fill. It’s physical, yes. Oh boy, is it physical! Just the thought of him penetrating me, thrusting so hard and so deep inside me…

I squeeze my eyes shut and banish the thoughts from my mind. I have to start cooling off all over again.

Grrrrr.

But there’s something more profound about the way Cash makes me feel, too. He fills an emptiness that has only recently become a gaping chasm in my soul. Since meeting Cash, in fact. It’s like he created it, but at the same time, he can fill it, too.

With a heartfelt sigh, I turn off that brain channel as well. It’s going nowhere good. Fast.

“So,” I begin when the silence and the closeness is too much. “How’d it go?”

I chastise myself. The call is what I should be worried most about anyway, not trying to keep my hands to myself. Or wishing Cash wasn’t keeping his hands to himself.

Cash’s sigh stirs the hair behind my ear and gives me chills down one arm.

“They went for it. I don’t think they liked it very much, but I think I kept my cool and convinced them that the books were locked up at the bank for safekeeping. Assholes,” he whispers at the end.

“Did they let you talk to Marissa?”

“Yeah.”

“And? How was she?”

“I think there’s a pretty good chance she’ll actually kill them by accident. I feel kinda sorry for ‘em.”

I can’t help but grin. “So she wasn’t taking her…captivity well?”

“She seemed to be polite to them, but she chewed my ass. There’s no question who she blames in this scenario. The good thing is, unless they tell her I’m both brothers, she can just blame me and not drag Nash and all his accomplishments through the mud.”

“With Marissa, I would expect nothing less.”

I feel bad speaking that way about her when she’s being held hostage. I mean, what a nightmare! But Marissa’s pretty much a nightmare, too. Maybe the whole thing will somehow make her a better person. Or maybe a sharp blow to the head will give her an epiphany. Or maybe they used chloroform on her and it will alter her personality and make her likeable and decent. Anything’s possible, right?

“So what’s the plan then?”

“There are some things I need to look into tomorrow. And I want to go see Dad. Not only does he need to know about this, but he might be able to help.”

“How? The man is in prison.”

“I know that,” Cash replies a bit sharply. “But he knows these people, knows how they think. Plus, he’s always been good with plans and strategy. I don’t want to risk overlooking something. There’s too much at stake,” he says, pulling me tighter against him.

We fall silent. I’m sure Cash’s mind is churning harder and faster than mine, which is pretty damn hard and fast. But he has the added weight of guilt, not to mention all the buried pain this must be unearthing.