The Summer He Came Home Part 24

They moved together, a sensual shuffle of fluid limbs, straining muscles, and a constant need that was a physical ache. The music was hypnotic: s.e.x and candy rolled into one h.e.l.l of an erotic number. Cain's mouth slid down her neck, and the world fell away. In her mind there was no one but him.

His lips skated across hers, and he whispered hoa.r.s.ely, "Let's get out of here."

Suddenly Maggie froze as Bradley Hayes's words echoed in her mind. What the h.e.l.l was she doing? Could her heart afford for her to be so selfish?

"What are we doing, Cain?" She stopped dancing, and the two of them stared at each other while all around them bodies moved and slid and touched in the near dark. She licked her lips nervously.

Cain's hands crept up to cradle her cheeks, his eyes intense and pa.s.sion filled as he gazed down at her. "What are you afraid of, Maggie?"

"Nothing." Everything.

"Are you sure?"

She glanced up at him and her heart lurched. His dark eyes studied her intently. She saw his hunger, his desire, his need...for her. In that moment she made a decision. One she prayed she wouldn't regret. Maggie leaned into his hands as her own crept up, and she threaded her fingers through his.

"I'm not sure about anything," she whispered.

He bent low until his forehead touched hers. "You can be sure of one thing."

"What's that?" His hands were on her a.s.s now, and he held her tight to his hips, his erection resting against her belly.

"You can be sure that I'm going to make you whimper and beg for"-he ground his groin against her, and the ache between the folds of her s.e.x intensified-"this." He was breathing hard now. "You ready?"

She was so not ready for any of this, but the devil who sat on one of her shoulders took over, and her fear was silenced.

Maggie nodded, and the two of them turned and left without saying good-bye to anyone.

Chapter 24.

Cain shifted beside Maggie and didn't take his eyes from her. He cradled her close, enjoying the warmth of her body and the feel of her in his arms. She was relaxed, had been thoroughly loved more than once, but still a soft frown settled between her eyebrows.

Like the previous night, she'd tossed and turned, mumbled things he couldn't understand. He knew she was holding back the part of her that was scared, and even though he wanted her to let him in, he was afraid to push. She needed to come around on her own. She needed to learn to trust him with her secrets.

He sure as h.e.l.l didn't like it, and every time he thought of the b.a.s.t.a.r.d who'd dared to touch her, he was filled with impotent rage. What he wouldn't give for a chance at this guy's a.s.s.

He'd been sleeping at her house ever since Jack's Hut, and that was a few weeks ago. h.e.l.l, after that first night together there was no way he was going to sleep anywhere else. They'd fallen into a kind of relationship he couldn't define-one based on the physical, but there was an ease to the way they reacted to each other. They spent every minute together that they could, and he was more than a little embarra.s.sed to admit that he'd become that guy-the one that sneaked out of her house under cover of night. Like a d.a.m.n criminal.

s.h.i.t, if the guys in the band could see him now. He'd been reduced to skulking around like some h.o.r.n.y teenager afraid to get caught with his pants down.

Maggie sighed and nestled deeper into his arms as he pushed back the hair at her temple. He didn't care. It was worth it.

The window was open, and he inhaled the fresh, cool air that blew in on the breeze. The smell of fresh-cut gra.s.s still lingered. Mowing the lawn was a ch.o.r.e he'd been more than happy to do and one that had p.i.s.sed off Luke Jansen something fierce. Especially when he tossed the s.h.i.t his dog left behind back onto Luke's lawn.

He stretched and settled against her softness, content and happy. The sun was making its way upward, and early-morning gray illuminated Maggie's bedroom.

The clock beside her bed glowed 5:30, and he knew it was time for him to leave. While Michael was an early riser, usually up before seven, this morning Cain was headed to Detroit, and if he wanted to beat traffic, he needed to be on the road by six. Dax Jones, his ba.s.s guitarist in BlackRock, had agreed to partic.i.p.ate in the fundraiser on July Fourth. His flight from the United Kingdom was due to arrive this morning.

"You're awake," Maggie murmured against him. Her arms crept across his chest. Sleep clung to her eyes, their blue depths mysterious and s.e.xy as she looked up at him. "I don't want you to leave."

He kissed her nose and shifted once more. "Trust me. The last thing I want to do is get out of this bed, but Michael will be up soon, and I've got to get my a.s.s in gear and head to the airport." The silky skin beneath her eyes was smudged, light bruises that signaled either a lack of sleep or something else entirely. "Are you okay? You didn't sleep well last night."

She glanced away, and unease slid through him as he continued to study her. She picked at the blanket, her elegant fingers nervous. Something was up.

"I'm fine, I just..."

"Just what?"

"I worry about things that I probably shouldn't and..." She bit her lip, attempted a smile. "Never mind."

That got his attention. Cain sat up. "What's going on, Maggie?"

She pulled the blanket up across her naked b.r.e.a.s.t.s and ran fingers across her temple. "Nothing. I said drop it."

"I'm not going to drop it. Something is obviously bothering you, and I want to know what the h.e.l.l it is."

That heavy weight on his chest, the one that had plagued him for the last few days, was back. It had always been Cain's experience that when his world tipped too far into good, it usually bottomed out and swung back the other way. Like a little slap in the face to remind him that it didn't matter to the big guy upstairs who the h.e.l.l he was.

She exhaled and sat up to face him. Her hair hung in crimson ropes around her shoulders, and with sleep still heavy in her eyes, her skin makeup-free, she looked like a d.a.m.ned Lolita. His body hardened instantly. She was like a drug he couldn't get enough of, and he felt a twinge of anger at the thought of how she affected him.

At the control the woman possessed, whether she knew it or not.

Cain rolled his shoulders and tried to relax.

"I'm just... Michael is getting attached to you, and I'm a little worried about what's going to happen when..." She paused as if gathering her thoughts, and then she spoke in a rush, as if the words tasted bad. "When you leave Crystal Lake."

"You're worried about Michael."

She frowned. "Of course I'm worried about Michael. I'm his mother. It's my job to worry."

Cain stared at her for several moments. "And what about you, Maggie? Would you miss me if I wasn't around?" He didn't know how tense he was until he let go of the sheet clutched between his fingers.

Something flickered in the depths of her eyes. She held his gaze for several seconds and then looked away. "Are we really going to have this conversation now?"

"What conversation?" He didn't like where this was headed and cursed himself for opening a can of worms.

She shrugged. "We both know you'll be leaving eventually. The question is, when? After the fundraiser? At the end of July? Maybe you'll stay until August or September. I don't know. It's not like you've shared your plans with me, but you will leave us behind."

His mother's words echoed in his head, and he winced, more than a little p.i.s.sed because there was truth in her words.

"Maggie-"

"Don't, Cain." She shook her head. "Seriously, you don't have to say anything. It is what it is." She smiled, a tremulous, beautiful smile. "I have no regrets, if that's what you're thinking. None. I just...I don't want Michael to be hurt when you leave."

She sounded like she'd already said good-bye, and it p.i.s.sed him off. How the h.e.l.l did she know what he thought? What he felt or wanted?

f.u.c.k, he didn't even know what the h.e.l.l was going on in his head.

"What if I don't leave?" he asked, the words slipping out of him before he had a chance to grab them back. He didn't like this serious turn. The bubble was about to burst, and he had a feeling the next few minutes were going to be a turning point in his relationship with Maggie. Whether it was good or bad was the question of the day.

She looked at him as if he had two heads. "Of course you're going to leave. You don't belong in Crystal Lake."

Her words lit the fuse that had already sparked. "How the h.e.l.l do you know where I belong? Are you a f.u.c.king mind reader now?" His words were harsh. He threw off the covers and slipped from her bed, searching for the jeans he'd thrown off the night before. The floor was a tangled mess of their clothes.

Clothes that had been torn and tossed in haste, because at the time all they could think about was getting naked and having s.e.x. Maybe that's all he was to her. Wouldn't that be ironic? He was the quick lay, the rocker stud who would eventually go away.

Maybe that's what she wanted.

"I didn't mean anything by it, Cain, I just..." She stared at him, obviously confused. "I don't know what you want me to say."

Cain slipped into his jeans and grabbed his shirt off the end of the bed. Once he had his boots on, his anger had tempered somewhat but not enough to take the bite out of his words. "The truth would be a great start."

Her cheeks flushed pink at that, and she sat up straight, the sheet falling dangerously low. "The truth? What are you talking about? I've never lied to you."

"Because you haven't had to."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I don't know s.h.i.t about you, and obviously that's the way you want it."

Her eyes flashed, and he knew she was angry. She opened her mouth to speak, but he didn't give her the chance.

"Where do you come from?"

"What?"

"You're from the South, that's obvious. The night we met, Rebecca told me you were from Savannah, I think." Her lips pursed tightly at his words, and she clutched the blanket up tight again. He pierced her with an intense look. "Is she right?"

Maggie stared at him in silence, and the anger inside him festered. It wasn't rational, what he felt-the resentment that rushed through him-and that fed the frustration even more. He wanted her, but he didn't know what the future held. Why couldn't they just enjoy each other and take this thing day to day? Why did everything have to be hard?

"What are your parents' names? Are they alive? What's your favorite color? Do you have any siblings? Why do you draw?"

She shook her head, "I..."

He didn't give her a chance but plunged forward. "Who the h.e.l.l is Michael's father? Is he in the picture at all?"

"That is none of your business." She slipped from the bed, the blanket held tight to her chest. Her face was flushed, and he saw the sheen of tears that filled the corners of her eyes. It killed him to see her like that. To know that he'd been the one to upset her. But h.e.l.l, all he was asking for was a little honesty. Was that too much to expect?

"I think you should leave."

"I was already leaving, Maggie, but this isn't over." He turned and opened her bedroom door. "Because I'm coming back, and we're going to finish this conversation."

He left without another word and slipped out of her house in silence. Luke Jansen was putting out his garbage as he drove by, and the urge to flip his middle finger in the guy's direction nearly won out. He did, however, manage to keep his cool and ignored the man instead.

He left town and hit the open road, trying his d.a.m.nedest to clear Maggie from his mind. After a while the silence settled him somewhat, and he cranked the tunes, tried to lose himself in the melodic strains of U2 as he sped down the interstate, but it was no use. By the time he arrived at airport he was wound tight and his mood was dark.

He kept his head down-no sense scaring all the little old ladies with his scowl-and was relieved when he spied Dax Jones with relative ease. He was glad to see him, glad Dax had agreed to play for the benefit, and for a moment his spirits lifted. The tall Brit was among a posse of people who'd just cleared the baggage area, but he stood out like a sore thumb. How could he not? With his shock of midnight-black hair, pale skin, myriad tattoos, and red and white plaid jeans, he wanted to be noticed. His T-shirt proclaimed G.o.d Save the Queen, and the Union Jack adorned the top hat that rested upon his head.

"Cain, you look like utter c.r.a.p, mate."

Cain smiled, aware that they were garnering a fair share of interest. "Nice to see you too, Monk."

"Hey, let's not start up with that bit, eh?" Dax grinned and slung his ba.s.s over his shoulder.

Cain said nothing, though his grin said it all as he grabbed the other bag offered to him. Monk was a nickname Dax had earned on their last tour with the Grind. The story was pretty d.a.m.n funny and a lot raunchy, involving Dax, two strippers, a judge, a princ.i.p.al ballerina from the Prague ballet company, and a monk.

"I'll go easy." Cain nodded. "This way."

The two of them made their way through the terminal, and by the time they'd reached Cain's truck it was late morning.

"We got time to stop for a drink? I'm f.e.c.king thirsty, mate."

Cain backed out of his spot and pointed the SUV toward the highway. "It's not exactly happy hour yet, my friend, though I do have a full fridge of beer back in Crystal Lake." And a woman I need to see.

"But do you have cider?"

"No, but I'm sure we can track some down."

Dax relaxed in his seat and sighed. "I'm b.l.o.o.d.y tired, so don't mind if I close my eyes."

"Go ahead. Get some sleep. We've got a couple hours ahead of us."

"And Cain?"

"Yeah?" He glanced at the Brit, not liking the sly smile that graced his mouth.

"You look like b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l."

"So you said."

"I can't wait, then."

Cain wondered if he was going to regret asking Dax to come back to the U.S. He'd forgotten how annoying his riddles were.

"I said I can't-"

"I know what you said Dax, but what the h.e.l.l did you mean?"

Dax laughed and settled back into his seat. "I can't wait to meet the woman who's managed to tie your underknickers in a knot."