Chapter Twenty-Five
Luke
Cassidy sits up, dragging her nails down my chest as she straddles me. She’s a goddamn work of art, flushed, backlit by the moon.
I slide my palms over her hips, up her ribs, my fingertips memorizing her curves. This snapshot of her is seared into my brain. Her body lording over mine, mussed hair falling over her delicious chest, gaze roaming my body as she touches whatever she wants with a curious hunger in her eye.
Out here, we’re the only two people who exist. My black-and-white life doesn’t exist. She is Technicolor, as rich as the sky.
Her fingers skirt my aching cock, and she tsk-tsks like a scolding teacher. “What are we going to do about this?”
Desperate to feel her, I slip a hand into her yoga pants and bypass her silky underwear. I suppress the noise building in my throat at how fucking wet she is. She’s so ready I could drive inside of her in one easy thrust. She’d take it, her eager little noises in my ear as she moved that tight body up and down, begging me don’t go easy, to fuck her harder—
Heat builds at the base of my spine, and I clench a fist. It’s unreasonable how hard I am, and it’s not just that it’s been so long (though it has been).
It’s her.
If she so much as touches me, I’m done for.
She fumbles with the button of my fly.
“Flip around.”
Pausing, her sultry gaze flits to meet mine. “What?”
Gripping her hips, I guide her until she’s facing front, sitting in my lap. I momentarily misplace my thoughts as my fingers slide along her soft skin, grazing the underside of her perfect chest.
Men have gone to war over less than this woman’s body.
I nudge her leggings down. She takes over to work them the rest of the way off, tossing them and her thong aside as my hands continue to roam.
Naked and utterly gorgeous.
My thumbs brush her hard nipples until she shudders, rocking her hips back, driving her ass into me.
I incline my seat halfway and pull her back against my chest. “Put your feet on the dash.”
She obliges, planting one on each side of the steering wheel.
Like this, I can explore every inch of her.
I’ve only just caressed the skin below her belly button when she moans and arches her back. Her hand flies to mine and guides lower. No shyness, all need, driving me fucking wild as she drags my fingers over her clit and moves against me. She lets me take over, and I keep the rhythm as her hand winds behind my neck.
If I thought I’d have more control over myself in this position, I was dead fucking wrong. I take her earlobe between my teeth as I slip a finger inside, then another, pressing the heel of my hand against her hot, throbbing skin. It’s not long before I’ve found the rhythm and pressure that make her body tense and shake in anticipation.
“I can feel how close you are. I should take my time, make it even better. Fuck, there’s so much I want to do—”
“Please.” Her legs quiver and she arches off me. “Harder.”
I twist my wrist to stroke her with two fingers deep inside.
The closer she gets, the more she writhes against my lap. I’m seconds away from coming from the pressure of the rhythmic drags of her body when she clamps around me and cries my name. Yes.
I take every last bit she has to give, unrelenting with the pump of my hand. Her sounds are swallowed by the canyon as she digs her nails into my neck.
Her shuddering breaths regulate as I ease out of her.
In a flash, she turns herself around and curls her hands into the fabric of my shirt. As soon as she rips it off, she gasps into a smile, as animated in this reaction as she is in everything, always. “Pants off.”
Heat surges through me, and I’m so hard I can barely see. She paws at my jeans, and I lift my hips. We take them off together, and when she frees me from my boxers, suddenly nothing is funny. Her hand against my tight skin takes my need to another dimension. Her palm slides in a slow, languid stroke. Then another, like she’s not sure she has a plan just yet.
I drag her face to mine and break her mouth open with a rough kiss. There’s nothing uncertain about the way I need her. Our teeth smash together and my tongue takes and takes, lapping up her sounds. Her hair is smooth between my fingers as I dig in and take hold.
“I like it when you pull my hair.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, yanking hard. Her cry is pure bliss, egging me on. She continues her gentle hand strokes, and I throb against her skin, my blood pooling, luring me closer to a point of no return.
“Cass…”
“Mhm.” She ratchets up the pace. Her head dips to my neck, kissing and biting and soothing with her tongue. I imagine that tongue somewhere else and have to steal my cock from her hand. I grip the base to keep from coming.
With my other hand, I grope for the handle of the center console, almost tearing the plastic top off. I retrieve the Trojan box and hold it between us.
“I bought condoms. I know it was presumptuous—”
“Thank god.” She rips the box out of my hand and tears it open. She hovers above me as she rolls one into place.
My thumb circles her hot, swollen flesh over and over, tearing a whine from her mouth.
“Are you sure?” I ask, meeting her eye.
“I want this,” she says in a breathless rush, lining us up. Her beguiling blue eyes kick me right in the solar plexus as she lowers an inch. “I want you.”
My impatience to be with her consumes my body, and I jut into her, my hips leaving the seat. She’s so tight I freeze. “Is this okay?”
“Yes.” She pinches my chin and claims me with a kiss. “I can’t get all the way down unless you push up, because of the car.”
I grip her waist and push hard off the seat. We gasp together. Again and again, we move like this. She braces her arms on the back of my seat, holding on as I set the pace.
My body wants to devour hers. I use her hips as handles, pumping her up and down. She bows forward, teasing my mouth with her nipple.
Remembering I can touch these, too—remembering her ass, her mouth, every divine part of her is available to touch—unlocks something greedy deep in my chest. I take her breast in my mouth and suck until I’m full of her.
Her hands move to my hair, tugging hard. “Bite it.”
I sink my teeth into flesh, cock throbbing at the eagerness in her pretty voice.
My hand runs up her leg, and I feel her thighs quiver from holding herself up in this stupid, narrow seat.
“Spin around,” I order.
She does as I ask, elbows the horn, and giggles. It’s the most Cassidy sound in the world.
But when she drives all her weight backward and takes me deeper, no one is laughing. She grips the side of the car as she takes control.
This position is pure bliss. One thrust and I’m already halfway gone, heat and static gathering low, every muscle straining for release. I flick open the visor mirror and glimpse her face, her mouth open in a perfect O.
The reflection of her hot, hooded stare swallows me up and spits me out.
My thumb moves over her slick flesh. There’s nothing soft-focus about this, the way she’s gasping as she rides me, begging me to fuck her, crying, “I’m almost there, I’m there, oh please.” And then she’s wordless, her muscles tightening as her orgasm grips us both. The frayed rope of my control snaps, and I come so hard and fast my vision blurs at the edges.
We pant, our sweaty bodies pressed together.
As the rush subsides, she turns back around to face me. Her hand makes a soothing circuit up my chest, over my shoulder, down my arms.
Mere minutes later, she’s out like a light on top of me, face buried in the crook of my neck. As if we weren’t just panting and wild, crying out to the goddamn cosmos as we fell apart.
As if that didn’t just change everything.
…
Light seeps into my closed eyelids.
I blink when the brightness becomes too hard to ignore and clock the sunrise splayed across the panoramic sky. The usual baseline dread that trickles over me as I wake is nowhere to be found.
I pop up like a jack-in-the-box.
It’s a long few seconds until I spot Cassidy on a flat stretch of burnt sienna sandstone. She’s fully dressed, unlike how I left her when we fell asleep.
After retrieving my glasses from the back seat, I’m able to better see the show in front of me. And by show, I mean Cassidy, in a full side split, arms reaching for her right ankle.
Christ alive, she is beautiful.
It takes several blinks to confirm I’m not dreaming. This woman is stretching at sunrise with the backdrop of a shallow canyon behind her. I don’t dare move in case she hears me and stops. Her arms rise overhead. She twists her wrists a few times before lacing her fingers and tilting her face toward the morning sky.
I stir dust with my footfalls as I approach. When I’m hovering almost directly above her, she flashes me a smile and un-contorts her body to cross her legs. She taps the ground beside her. “Looks like sherbet, doesn’t it?”
Squinting toward the sky, I take a seat. “It does. And I never, ever would’ve thought of that. I like your brain.”
Her head snaps toward me. “That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
I grab her chin and plant one soft kiss on her lips. “Good morning. Emphasis on good.”
A hue that matches the sunrise spreads across her face. “Yeah?”
“Yes. Big time.”
She bites her lip. “Okay then.”
And with that, it feels like something is settled.
I want to let this woman in. Until I met her, I thought feelings were easily controlled. A choice.
Now I’m riddled with the damn things and they’re winning. Leave it to Cassidy to tornado my beliefs, just like she tornado-ed my trip. In the best way.
“How long have you been awake?” I ask.
“Not long. I was checking emails and uh…” She blinks toward the horizon, and her ponytail dances in the breeze. “I applied for a job a few months back, and they want an interview in the next few weeks.”
“Cass! That’s awesome. What’s the job?”
“Dance team manager for a new Asheville squad that’s forming. I’d be building it from the ground up.”
I scoot closer and reel her in. “Sounds like an incredible opportunity.”
The pause is substantial before she says, “Yeah. It’s my entire dream, no big deal. It would require so much creativity and hustle, which are the two things I bring to the table. But it probably won’t amount to anything, so I’m not going to get my hopes up. I’d forced myself to forget about it.”
“Sounds like it would be perfect for you. But more importantly, you, for it.”
She rests her chin on her shoulder to look at me. “You’re pretty hot when you’re being supportive.”
I cock my head to the side. “I’m always supportive.”
Her wink curls around me and squeezes. Damn if she doesn’t pull those off. “Do you have a dream? I know you’re totally accomplished already, with your spreadsheets and such. But beyond jobs.”
“I’ve got plenty of dreams. I’m not a cyborg. I’d like to watch a filming of Doctor Who, preferably one with cyborgs.”
“I bet that’d be fun, geeking out on set.” She taps her boots together.
My gaze wanders. “I guess if I’m really thinking about it…I’d like to be able to buy my mom’s house outright, then my own. I’d love to take my sister and her kids on the kind of trips she and I never had growing up. I used to hate being the only kid in my class who had never been outside of California. The world felt so small. I don’t want that for my nieces.”
Cass’s head falls against my shoulder. “That’s really nice. Anything else? Maybe something for just you?”
“Someday, I plan to open my own consulting firm with Rogelio’s help. That’s work, technically, but it’s the benchmark I’ve been building my career around, so it feels bigger than a job. Oh—Rogelio’s been talking about ways to give back to the community, starting his own version of Habitat for Humanity or something. I’d like to participate if I can find the time. Not to brag but I’ve gotten pretty damn good with the most basic form of carpentry, affixing boards to other boards.”
She makes a humming sound. Her gaze falls to her feet, and she hugs her legs to her chest.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She flashes me a tentative smile, pushes off the ground, and extends a hand to help me up. “For what it’s worth, I think you should absolutely chase that Doctor Who dream.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.” She reaches up to peck me on the cheek. “And all the rest. Your family is lucky to have you. I’m driving today. You didn’t get enough sleep. Though I guess tonight, you’ll be able to stock back up. At home.”
Home.
A bomb of a word, dropped between us. A reminder of our very unforgiving timeline. We have a lot to figure out before I so much as think about home.
We’re almost out of time.
We reach the car, and I close my hand around hers before she can cross to the driver’s seat. “Cass. Are you okay?”
“Totally. One hundred percent.” She studies my face for a few seconds. “Just need caffeine, I think.”
“Okay.” I tip my chin down and look her straight in the eye. “Just so we’re abundantly clear, last night was damn near perfect. But if it wasn’t for you, or you’re having regrets, we should discuss—”
“No! No regrets whatsoever. That’s not…” She nods, frantic. “I very much enjoyed car camping. I will be rating it very highly on TripAdvisor.”
I brush dust off her cheek. “If car camping was always like that, I’d live in my Jeep.”
Her fingers sneak inside my shirt, skimming my stomach. “If car camping was always like that, I would actually camp. And I wouldn’t burn out my vibrators.”
My head falls back, and I let out a groan. My brain has never worked faster at summoning a visual: Cassidy and I camping in my Jeep with the back seats folded down. Her favorite toy—pink, I bet it’s pink—becoming my favorite toy as I use it on her so many times we burn out the battery.
My hands land on her waist. “I desperately need to know more about this but also can’t stand to think about you and sex toys if we have any hopes of getting on the road anytime soon.”
“Fair enough.”
The tips of her fingers waterfall over my skin, dragging heat, stopping at the sensitive hollow next to my hips. I grunt and squeeze her waist. “Fuck it, tell me everything. More than one vibrator? At the same time? Different models?”
Her hands fall away, and she takes a few steps backward, eyes alight as she mimes the closing of a zipper over her mouth.
I’m a goner.
…
Cassidy drives like a teenager, reclined with one hand lazily draped over the wheel, the other wandering around, poking buttons, messing with her hair or mouth.
Hours in, she plucks her coffee out of the console and shouts over the music. “So, there’s a quick stop I’d like to make, if you’re amenable.”
I break from my work emails and peer sideways. “Oh yeah? What’d you have in mind?”
“World’s biggest rubber band ball.”
“Oh, is that located in—”
“Kidding. Nothing like that. It’s, uh”—she sips her drink—“my dad lives a few minutes out of the way, near St. George. I promised Isabelle I’d talk to him about reconsidering his stance on coming to the wedding.”
“What’s his stance?”
“That he doesn’t want to cause drama or overshadow her big day. As I mentioned, my mother despises my father. Drama abounds.” She plops the cup back in the holder, sending droplets flying, and shakes out her shoulders. “That turbo shot may be my undoing. Is my skin vibrating or does it just feel that way? Anyway, would it be okay if we pay him a quick visit?”
“Sure. Not a problem.”
Outside of St. George is a small town called Ivins. Her dad’s property is nestled at the base of Red Mountain, sprawled on several open acres.
She hooks a turn at a mailbox painted to look like an electric guitar.
“What does your dad do for work?”
“A year after he married my mother, he lost a finger while part of a railroad crew. That allowed him to retire really early in his career. They pay him a nice sum simply to exist.”
“Mixed bag. I’m sure he misses working.”
She shoots me a horrified look.
“And his finger,” I add delicately. “Of course, his finger.”
The car bumps down a dusty road, stirring clouds of red into the air. If our convertible top was still down, we’d be choking on dirt. His home is set far back on the property, and nothing is paved.
“Dad does not miss working. He isn’t a fan of the rat race. He’s what you might call an artist type. My mother, however, did not like the end of his career, because she always imagined he’d amount to more. ‘That’s what I get for marrying a fixer upper,’ she’d always say. It’s like…did she even know who he was when they got together? Ten minutes with the guy and…well, you’ll see for yourself.”
“How often did you get to see him?”
“Mom had solo custody. He fought it hard, but her lawyer fought harder.”
“Ah. That must’ve been tough.”
She shrugs. “I think she did my dad a favor. He got to live his life out here, unburdened.”
“Cassidy. You are not a burden.”
She waves this off, but not fast enough that I miss the flash of regret in her eyes. “I just meant I think he’s happier for it. He didn’t have to deal with L.A., the costs of raising kids there, the crushing weight of my mother’s perpetual disappointment. He’s better off.”
“He is not better off not having been in you and your sister’s day-to-day life.”
“Meh.” She starts fiddling with her shirt. “Oh, his name is Phil, by the way. For greeting purposes. And his wife’s name is Stacey.”
Suddenly a new problem presents itself in the form of the living, breathing man I’m about to meet.
I nod, a nervous twitch in my gut. I didn’t have a turbo shot in my coffee, but my skin suddenly feels like it’s vibrating, too.
Business meetings? Fine.
Meeting “artist types” who happen to be the father of the girl I’m…something with?
I need a script. Or Will on speakerphone to run interference.
We’re halfway out of the car—my legs already touched down on the lot—when she adds, “Probably should’ve warned him we were coming.”