Ginger's Heart (a modern fairytale) (39 page)

She slid her hands to her face, covering her eyes as she wept—long, hard sobs that racked her body and made her seat tremble. And it was fucking unbearable for him to watch.

Cain lifted the bolster between them, unbuckled her seat belt, put his hands under her arms, and lifted her from her seat onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her as she buried her face in his neck and cried with long, wrenching sobs of sorrow, of anguish, of lost chances and terrible revelations.

He closed his burning eyes, pressing soft kisses to her hair.

“You’re wrong,” he murmured. “It isn’t complicated, darlin’. It isn’t complicated anymore.”

She took a ragged breath. “You saw. You saw me with him.”

Cain clenched his jaw before pressing another kiss to her head. “Yes, I did.”

“That’s why you left a week early three years ago?”

“Yes.”

“That’s why you hated me so much . . . at the . . . the BBQ.”

“Yes.”

“That’s why . . . that’s why you said that Woodman deserved better than me.”

He nodded. “But it was my fault too,” he said softly, holding her tighter. “I was so cruel to you, princess. The things I fuckin’ said to you.” He winced. “When I think of your face—the way you looked at me when you told me I’d never hurt you again, then turned and walked away. I wanted to kick my own ass. Part of me wanted to die for hurtin’ you like that.”

She looked up at him with glassy eyes. “I was so devastated, and . . . he was s-so good to me. My heart was sh-shattered, and Woodman—”

“Princess.”

He stopped her because it hurt. He wished it didn’t, but it was painful to remember her limbs entwined with his cousin’s so soon after telling him she loved
him
. And yes, he understood his part in pushing her away, in pushing her back to Woodman, and he regretfully owned it. But the loss he’d felt at the time, the betrayal, the sickening sense of “too late” wasn’t something he was anxious to relive.

“If it’s all the same to you? I get it. I do. I know why you ran to him. But I just . . .” Cain scrubbed his hand over his face, looking down at her face, which was cradled on his bicep. “I want to move on from that day. I don’t want to look back.”

She sighed, leaning against him. “Me too. I want to move on, but . . . Cain?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“You think we’re only bound by grief?”

He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Darlin’, I’m not even sure I know what that means.”

“Remember at the BBQ? We were spittin’ mad at each other. We could barely be civil. Now here we are, goin’ out on a date. Are we just doin’ this because we both miss Woodman and we’re sad and we lost him and we’re turnin’ to each other in our grief?” She gulped and he felt it against his chest. “And then, one day, we won’t be as sad anymore, and then you’ll remember I was the whore who told you she loved you and slept with your cousin, and I’ll remember you were the heartless bastard who threw my love back in my face.”

“Is that how you feel about me?” He knew his voice was rough, but it ached to hear her describe herself and him in such stark and awful terms.

She looked up at him, held his eyes in the dim light, and shook her head. “No. Not anymore. Not at all.” She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and held it for a moment. Her voice was barely a whisper when she asked, “But is that how you still see me? On some level?”

“Not even a little,” he said sadly, “and I fuckin’ hate it that we ever felt that way about each other at all.”

She was quiet for a moment before saying, “Maybe . . . maybe we had to be there to get here.”

He nodded, leaning back so he could at her face, just inches from his own. “We’re bound by somethin’ much stronger than grief, Gin. We’re bound by memories and dreams and rides in the rain and skippin’ stones. By knowin’ each other as little kids and stupid, dreamy teenagers. By destroyin’ each other but still not bein’ able to let go.
I can’t stop thinkin’ about you.
And some of the time—fuck,
most
of the time—I’m pretty sure that I was
made
for you and you were
made
for me because there ain’t another woman in the world who affects me like you do. Maybe you’re right. Maybe we had to go through the bad to get to the good.”

He searched her eyes, his heart hammering as he lost himself in her gaze, surrendered himself to her warmth, which took the icy shards of their broken hearts and was somehow putting them back together. “I don’t know why or how. I only know this: We’re
bound
, princess. That’s all I know.”

He watched her eyes as he leaned forward, as he kissed Ginger McHuid for the fourth time in his life.

The first time she’d been a twelve-year-old kid, and he’d kissed her cheek on her birthday, stunned by the unexpected jolt of electricity between them . . . and he’d run from her, unable to process his sudden feelings for her.

The second time had been her first kiss.
You still want that first kiss?
Her sweet, untried lips had parted for his, and it was like no one had ever come before and no one could ever come after. And yet again he’d run away from the overwhelming feeling of want, of more, of knowing that no other woman could ever be what Ginger was to his heart. He’d known it with every mile he’d placed between them.

The third time?
Cain, Cain, Cain . . . I love you. God, I love you so much.
His kiss had been desperate, had been angry, fierce and wild and unrestrained, because he loved her madly but he couldn’t have her. Because she was sweet and open and offering him everything his heart had ever wanted. He had kissed her knowing he couldn’t have her, and it had just about broken him as he pushed her into Woodman’s arms and rode off into the night.

But Cain was no longer a child or a cocky kid or an angry young man who couldn’t have his heart’s desire. And there would be no running this time. Or ever again.

He cupped her face between his hands, staring into her dark eyes until they closed, until his lips touched down on hers, pursing gently as he groaned in a frustrating mix of satisfaction and hunger. Softly she licked his top lip, then pulled back. As he leaned in again, she gently bit his bottom lip, and Cain’s self-control snapped. He threaded his fingers through the soft strands of her golden hair as she leaned her neck back and opened her mouth for him. As his lips sealed over hers and his tongue slid slowly against the velvet heat of hers, she released the breath she’d been holding—he heard it and he felt it and he tasted the sweetness of it as it slipped from her body into his and became part of him.

She’d been sitting on his lap with her back against the driver’s door and her feet on the passenger seat, but now she turned into him, pressing her breasts against his chest as her hands slid up the front of his shirt and flanked his throat, pulling him closer.

Ginger, Ginger, Ginger . . . I love you. God, I love you so much.

He tilted her head back and leaned forward, running his lips along her jaw to her throat. Pausing over her raging pulse, he listened to the rapid in and out of her breathing, the tiny whimper that told him she liked what he was doing, the way she arched into him and leaned her neck back farther, straining the muscles of her throat so he could kiss the smooth planes.

“Princess,” he murmured against her skin, a plea, and she guided his head still lower. He pushed the elastic hem of her blouse down, kissing along the edge of her black bra as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Cain,” she moaned. “Cain . . .”

“Fuuuck, I want you, Gin,” he groaned, skimming his lips back up to claim hers again, this time harder, more insistent.

He wanted her naked and panting beneath him. He wanted to drive into her soft cunt with his rock-hard cock and watch her eyes roll back in her head while her nails drew blood from his back. She met his hunger with her own, clutching at his face as he pulled her closer. Except he couldn’t get her close enough. He couldn’t feel her flush against his body, couldn’t feel her soft places cradling his hardness, couldn’t feel the soft warmth of her skin pressed against him, and it wasn’t enough. Not by a fucking mile.

“This fuckin’ car!” he burst out, leaning away from her and staring into her surprised eyes, which popped open when he barked in frustration.

Suddenly her whole face split into a smile, and she licked her slick, swollen lips as she stared at him, caressing his throat as she gently slid her hands back down.

“You just kissed me. Again.”

“Get used to it,” he growled.

She took a deep breath and released it, leaning forward to kiss him again. As she pulled back, she searched his eyes with a wonder he shared.

“I’m goin’ to do that whenever I want to,” she promised.

Her eyes sparkled with happiness, and he couldn’t help smiling back at her, even though his heart ached with love for her and his body was taut and raging with longing.

“You better.”

Easing herself off his lap, she scooted back over to her seat. He reached across her body, grazing the tips of her very erect nipples with the back of his hand, to grab her seat belt and buckle it, smirking with satisfaction when she gasped from the contact.

“Fuuuuuck,” he hissed, shaking his head and feeling slightly sorry for himself. He couldn’t keep his fucking eyes off her now, and his body was so hard and so hungry, it was almost painful. But they were in a car and needed to get somewhere private before he could take what he was sure she was offering. “I was goin’ to take you to my place and order some takeout. Does that still sound okay?”

Or how about we skip the takeout, get in my bed, and fuck all weekend?

“Ummm . . .” She did a nod–shrug combination. “Or we can go to my place. I don’t care where we go. I just want to be with you.”

He would have thought that words like that—
I just want to be with you
—from the princess, from the forbidden girl of his dreams, would make him even needier, even greedier, but it did just the opposite: it soothed the starving beast inside him. She wanted
him
. The princess wanted
him
, the little boy who wasn’t allowed at the parties, whose father scrubbed her father’s horse stalls, whose cousin had been the golden boy, who had been the hell-raiser and troublemaker.

She still loved him after all this time, and Cain, who’d lived most of his life fucking without loving, suddenly understood that he stood at the precipice of
making love
for the first time in his life, and his heart quaked with the knowledge that whatever was going to happen between him and Ginger would be a first for him, would be a new beginning.

“Cain? My place?”

He grinned at her. “You still have those frozen pizzas fillin’ up your freezer?”

She lowered her lashes and peeked up at him. “And here I thought you might be hungry for somethin’ else.”

He tightened everywhere, his swollen cock pressing painfully against the zipper of his jeans and his breathing going all shallow and sharp. Was she offering him sex? Now? Tonight? Already? His heart thudded dangerously. “Gin . . .”

“You know . . .” She winced before shaking her head and grinning at him sheepishly. “I shouldn’t have said that. I mean . . . I want you to come over. S-stay over. I want us to be toge—um, oh, God, I don’t even know if we’re . . .”

“Together? Is that what you were goin’ to say?”

She full on cringed. “Sort of. Yeah.”

“Fuck, Gin, after makin’ out like that? With the thoughts goin’ through my head right now? I fuckin’
hope
we’re together, even if it has to be a goddamned secret for now.”

“But Cain, I’m not ready to . . . I mean, I need some—only a little—time. I’ve only been with . . . um, maybe we could just . . .” She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, and his eyes darted to it greedily. “. . . fool around tonight?”

“Oh.” His eyes widened with understanding, and he looked up and grinned at her. “Whatever you want, princess.” He chuckled softly because she looked so adorable and he loved her so madly. “How ’bout this? I’ll keep my jeans on.”

Her lips widened into a relieved smile as her shoulders relaxed. “Me too.”

“But that’s
all
I’m keepin’ on,” he warned her.

She lifted her eyebrows, all sweet and sassy. “Me too.”

Fuuuuuuuck.

He turned the key in the ignition, and fuck if his cock
and
his foot weren’t suddenly made of lead at the exact same time.

When she walked into the office at Wolfram’s Motorcycles on Tuesday morning, a massive bouquet of wildflowers was waiting for her on the desk. Cain looked up from his laptop, waiting for her, his eyes hot and liquid.

“Close the door and lock it.”

She blinked, her breath catching, and her panties flooded with wet warmth.

She pushed the door closed and turned the lock. As soon as it clicked shut, she felt the heat of his body behind her, watched his hands slap the wood of the door, landing flat on either side of her head, caging her in. She inhaled sharply when she felt the bulge behind his jeans grind into her ass, but turned around slowly so that her breasts purposely raked across the hard planes of his chest.

“I missed you,” he said, pressing her against the back of the door with his body and slamming his lips into hers.

They’d made out all weekend, but Cain had been as good as his word, keeping his jeans on the whole time, though he’d been so swollen and hard behind the zipper, she was fairly sure she would have seen teeth marks on his cock given the chance. She had also kept her jeans on, though her shirt, like his, had come off, and he’d spent the weekend proving to her that it was possible to orgasm from having your breasts loved, which was something she’d never known before. Something that made her nipples bead with anticipation now.

His tongue, so skilled in making her boneless and pliant, swept into her mouth like he owned it, and the thing is, he did. He owned just about whatever part of her he cared to claim, and she was almost out of the strength it would take to make him wait much longer to take everything.

Hands.

Over the weekend she’d learned that his hands were warm but coarse, chapped and dry, the rough texture wringing more pleasure from her sensitive, silky skin than they would if they were soft like hers.

He ran his hands from her throat, slowly and deliberately over her breasts, to the hem of her sweater, slipping underneath it to land on the bare skin of her waist. While his tongue savaged her mouth, his hands met on her back, his fingers unfastening her bra with a practiced flick, and she raised her arms without being asked so he could pull off her sweater and toss it, along with the bra, on the floor.

“Ginger,” he groaned, wedging his knee between her legs and dropping his lips to her nipple. “A day away from you is too long . . .”

“Ahh,” she whimpered as he latched onto the erect bud, sucking it into his mouth and rolling it between his upper lip and tongue. “Caaaaaaain . . .”

“You taste like sugar, darlin’. You make me crazy.”

As he laved his tongue over the slick nub, he cupped her cheek and slipped his thumb into her mouth, and she sucked it eagerly, imitating the pressure he used on her nipple and finally releasing it with a pop.

He dropped the glistening digit to her already slick and distended nipple, circling it slowly as he circled the other with the tip of his tongue. Maddeningly slow, his tongue traced her areola, and she arched her back, desperate for him to take her nipple between his lips and suck. Just when she thought she might go crazy, he licked the hard bud, then blew on it softly, and she cried out, not quite in orgasm, but because the sensation was so strong and so good and so frustratingly not enough. Her hunger was increasing. What had made her come on Sunday wasn’t enough on Tuesday.

“Cain,” she whimpered as he flicked his thumb over her nipple. “I need . . . I need more . . .”

“I know, baby,” he said, dropping one hand to the button of her jeans and twisting it open with his fingers. He flattened his hand over the zipper and murmured close to her ear, “Weekend’s over. Are you okay with the jeans comin’ off? If you want me to stop, say stop.”

She was wet and aching, and her jeans were going to have to come off to relieve the pitch of her desire.

“Don’t stop.”

“I’m goin’ to love you with my tongue, baby.”

“Oh, my God . . .”

“You’ve done this?”

“N-no, but I need you.”

“You’re sure, baby?”

“Cain,
please
.”

Her breathing quickened to a pant as he dropped his hand, releasing the fullness of her breast, and fell to his knees before her. He yanked her jeans and panties to her knees, then cupped her ass and jerked her forward, keeping her back braced against the door as he pulled her legs over his shoulders. She let her hands slip over her damp, erect nipples, over the soft skin of her stomach, and reached down to part the folds of her sex with her fingers. Cain leaned forward, and Ginger’s head fell back against the office door as his tongue licked her clit in one long, slow stroke.

“Ohhh,” she moaned, the sound like dying, like crying, like shock and surprise and heaven.

With her hands on either side of his head, she guided him gently back and forth, up and down, his tongue brushing against her with increasing pressure as his fingers kneaded her ass, pushing her sex into his face and then letting her slide away.

The muscles deep inside her body were stretched taut and tight, like violin strings twisted to a hair’s breadth of snapping, when he leaned his head all the way back and fucked her with his tongue, one hand holding her up as the other reached around and pinched her clit.

“
Cain
!”

She screamed his name as she exploded in wild waves, trembling and shaking, her insides flooding hot and wet, coating his tongue and his lips as she rode out the most complete and profound orgasm of her life.

Finally, as the tremors began to subside, she felt her feet hit the floor and his arms anchor her to his body as he stood up. She leaned against him, limp and loose and utterly sated.

“Catch your breath, baby. I’m doin’ that to you again in ten minutes.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him, laughing softly at the lazy, self-satisfied look in his clear blue eyes as he gazed down at her.

“Promise?” she asked, breathless and trembling.

“Fuck, yeah. That was the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

She took a shaky breath and smiled at him, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss him, when the phone rang.

“Ignore it,” he growled.

“Cain,” she said, gasping as he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “I should answer it.”

“No. We should kiss again.”

She covered his hand, pressing it against her sensitive, bare skin but gently stilling his movements. “You’ll lose business.”

“Good. I have enough.” His eyes were so dark, she could barely make out the ring of ice blue. “What I don’t have is enough of you, princess. I’ll
never
get enough of you.”

The phone rang again, and she leaned forward to press another kiss to his lips, then reached down to pull up her panties and jeans. She grabbed her sweater off the floor to cover her breasts as she stepped over to the desk and picked up the phone.

“Wolfram’s Motorcycles . . . Uh-huh. Yes, I see.” She covered the mouthpiece, turning to Cain, who looked fiercely annoyed with her. “Are you gettin’ any new Harleys in stock?”

He shook his head, swiping at his bottom lip with his thumb, then sucking it into his mouth as he stared at her.

“Cain?” she prompted, refusing to be distracted by him, refusing to let him lose business because he was distracted by her.

He huffed, glaring at her in surrender. “No, but I can place a special order. Take a message. I’ll call them back.”

“Why don’t I take your name and number and have Cain call you back?”

She tucked the phone between her shoulder and ear and jotted down a quick message, overwhelmingly aware of Cain’s eyes boring into her back and loving how much she affected him.

“Thank you. Yes. Later today. Good-bye.”

She turned around to find Cain still standing where she’d left him, a troubled expression on his face. He was unsatisfied, and he was running low on patience. And hell, if she was honest, so was she.

“Soon, Cain,” she said, understanding him just as well as she always had. “I promise.”

He exhaled, stepped toward her, taking the bra out of her hands. “Hold out your arms.”

He threaded her arms through the loops and pulled them up to her shoulders, then dipped his head and kissed each swollen nipple gently before fastening her bra in the back. He took her balled-up sweater from her hands and shook it out, placing it carefully over her head and holding the arms out for her.

“Never had to wait . . .,” he said softly, almost more to himself than to her as he helped her get dressed.

A tiny part of her bristled, and she almost said,
Well, sorry I’m not one of your high school sluts, ready and willin’ on a moment’s notice.

He watched her eyes flare, and she watched the sexiest mouth in the world turn up in a slow grin as his arms wound around her waist.

“Don’t get your back up, princess. I didn’t finish.”

“So finish,” she said pertly, smoothing her shirt and giving him a pissy look.

He pulled her closer so that her breasts were crushed against his chest, and the long length of his erect cock pressed against the valley of her sex. But despite their shared arousal, his stormy eyes were focused and intense, holding hers captive with the sort of longing that made her heart thunder with love for him.

“I never had to wait,” he said softly, “until you. And for you, darlin’, I’d wait until I ran out of days. And when I ran out of days, I’d wait for you in heaven. And when you got there, through every eternity, I’d wait for you and your lion’s heart to give me another chance, to choose me again.”

“Cain . . .”

“I love you,” he said in a gravelly whisper, furrowing his brow like it hurt a little to say the words. “I’ve loved you for so long, I don’t know how to stop. I don’t want anyone else, princess. Not ever. When you’re ready, I’m ready. And until then . . . I’ll wait.”

Her breath caught.

Her heart clutched.

I’ve loved you for so long, I don’t know how to stop.

She’d waited for words like these for most of her life, and now—suddenly here and now—they’d arrived.

Before she could answer, he leaned down and kissed her lips, gently, tenderly, slowly, and then he dropped his arms, stepped around her, and left the office.

She looked over her shoulder to find him gone, then moved slowly, in a semidaze, to the desk chair. Plopping down, she leaned back as tears filled her eyes and a laugh born of unexpected happiness started deep in her belly and rumbled up through her throat, to her lips, filling the room with a sound of disbelief and joy.

He loved her.

Cain Holden Wolfram, whom she’d loved every day of her life since she was eleven years old, finally loved her back.

“
He loves me
,” she whispered. She giggled, stomping her feet on the carpet under the desk, and then said it louder, “He loves me!”

“Yes, he does!” he barked from the showroom. “Now do some damn work, or I’m comin’ in there, and this time we’re not unlockin’ the door until tomorrow mornin’!”

Her face flamed red, but she grinned, whispering, “Yep. He loves me” one more time for good measure and just to hear the words aloud.

Her body still quaked and trembled deep, deep inside, where he’d set off a chain reaction after owning her with his fingers and his tongue, where he’d loved her until she’d screamed his name. And a dreamy smile was plastered on her face for the remainder of the day. Well, for most of the day.

It was the third week since Wolfram’s Motorcycles had opened, and clearly the word was out that a superhot young motorcycle mechanic was in town because every local female with a car, and several with bicycles and scooters, had stopped in with a “problem.” At present, she had four women waiting to see her boss.

Flirtatiously: “Can Cain take a look at my gears?”

Conspiratorially: “Is Mr. Wolfram as hot as they say?”

Insecurely: “So is he single, or does he have a girlfriend?”

Queen Bee: “I heard Mr. Wolfram is here today. Tell him I need to see him. Now.”

That last one made Ginger roll her eyes, but she’d asked the strawberry-blonde bombshell in the ridiculously short miniskirt to take a seat as she went looking for Cain, and found him in the supply room behind the showroom, looking for a ball bearing.

“Cain?”

He turned to face her, his beautiful face lighting up. “Please make my day and tell me you want a quickie in the supply closet?”

“You want our first time to be in a dingy supply closet?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips and arching one eyebrow.

He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her against his body. “I
want
our first time to be three years ago, but I fucked that up so . . .”

“So a supply closet will do?” She hooked her thumb to the left. “What? Up against the spare tires?”

He made a face and huffed softly, letting her go. “Well, if you came here to torture me, go on back to the office. I’m goin’ crazy as it is.”