The Billionaire Boyfriend Proposal: A Kavanagh Family Novel (11 page)

I wanted to hug him, but I felt too fragile
to move. I wanted to glance at Blake's face, but I didn't dare see
how Lyle's accusations had affected him. I knew I should counter my
brother's words, maybe even deny them, but I didn't. My throat was
too raw to speak.

Lyle sniffed and wiped his nose on his
sleeve. It was the only sound for several excruciatingly long
moments. Finally, he cleared his throat. "So can I stay, Cass?"

I nodded. "Take your old room. But don't do
drugs here. I don't want anything illegal in this house."

"Fucking hell, you're doing it again."

I glared at him. "What?"

"Talking like Mom."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Everyone used to say I sounded and looked
like her. After her death, they stopped saying it. Maybe they
thought it would upset me. If only they knew I wanted people to
talk about her. I wanted to remember her. Sometimes, I found myself
forgetting how my parents looked. Was Mom's hair the same shade as
mine? Was Dad really as tall as Lyle? I was afraid of forgetting
the small details altogether.

I went to walk off to join Robbie in the
kitchen. Maybe having him around would diffuse the tension. It
would certainly stop Blake from confronting me over what Lyle said.
I wasn't ready to speak to him about it.

"Oh wait, you should be aware that Robbie's
brother has been here," I told Lyle. "He's a violent character.
Just so you know."

He nodded and headed up the stairs without so
much as a goodnight. I headed out of the room without looking in
Blake's direction. He didn't follow me.

***

A knock on my bedroom door sounded as I went
to switch off my bedside lamp. My heart tripped. Of the three men
staying on my property, my money was on it being Blake. The other
two didn't need me in a way that necessitated coming to my bedroom
at night.

At least I was prepared for the sight of him
standing there, a sexy warrior in blue denim and black T. Even so,
my heart didn't stop its little pitter pat inside my chest. If
anything, it kicked harder.

"Hey," he said in quiet, rumbling voice.
"Sorry. I know it's late, but I couldn't sleep."

"Since you're still dressed in the same
clothes you wore today, I'm guessing that's not quite the
truth."

"I sleep naked." He leaned against the
doorframe and folded his arms over his chest. "I wouldn't have
bothered getting dressed again if I thought you'd let me in wearing
nothing. Besides, I didn't want to scare Lyle."

"You think seeing you naked will scare
Lyle?"

He smiled that Cheshire Cat smile of his.
Damn, but he just got sexier. "I suppose you want to talk about
what Lyle said."

"Maybe," he hedged. "If you do."

"I don't."

"Then neither do I."

"So what is it you do want?"

He shook his head and shrugged. "I don't
know. Just…some company, I guess."

"I'm sure Robbie won't mind keeping you
company. You two seem to be getting on pretty well."

"Let me rephrase that. It's
your
company I want, Cassie." His voice rolled from his chest like
distant thunder, waking my body up completely with a rush of
tingles.

Breathe, Cass.
"Oh. Um…"

"We don't have to do anything. I'll keep my
distance. It's just that last night, I liked being with you. Waking
up beside you helped."

"Helped with what?"

"To ease me out of the nightmares."

"Oh." There is no way anyone with a heart
could not be touched by his quiet, earnest plea.

He looked down at his feet when I didn't say
anything further. "I want to tell you what causes them. About my
time in the army. Will you listen?"

I nodded. "Of course. If it helps."

"I don't know yet." He shot me a quick smile
that lacked the usual Blake Kavanagh confidence.

I stepped aside to let him in. My bedroom was
large enough to have a reading nook with a comfortable armchair in
the bay window and a small table. Blake sat there and I climbed
back into bed, tucking my legs under the covers. A strange,
otherworldly atmosphere settled around us, maybe because my body
responded to Blake's nearness but my head said not to act on
it.

I pulled my knees up and hugged them. "Did
you enlist straight after we…after you left my place that day?"

He nodded. "I'd known for some time that I
had to get away. I felt like I was being pulled in all different
directions. I'm sorry, Cass. I know that explanation is never going
to make up for my sudden disappearance, but I just want you to know
it wasn't you. It was me."

So went every break-up line ever. I'd used it
myself on the one and only guy I'd tried to seriously date in the
last eight years. I gave Blake a nod to go on. I wanted this
conversation to play out on his terms. Whether it hurt me or not,
whether it explained anything or not, it was up to him. So far, I
was underwhelmed.

He stretched his long legs out and rubbed his
temple. "I spent a couple years here in the States at various
training facilities, did one tour in the Middle East before
deciding to aim for Special Forces. I qualified."

"You were a Green Beret?"

He nodded, but the rubbing of his temples
became more intense. "I've been deployed to Afghanistan and
Iraq."

"That must have been hot, hard work."

"It was. If I never see another desert again,
I won't mind. The winds would whip up the sand into your eyes, nose
and throat so that you felt like you were breathing it. But that
was a minor discomfort compared to the warfare."

I leaned forward. I wanted to reach across
the space and touch his hand to comfort him, but he was too far
away and I wasn't sure I should. He seemed to lose himself in the
story, as if he were back there, remembering.

"I won't go into the details," he said. "But
let's just say I saw many good men die. Good friends, almost as
close to me as my own brothers. One even died in my arms. Seeing
the life drain out of someone you like and respect…seeing his eyes
become vacant…" He cleared his throat.

"Oh, Blake." Tears stung my eyes and tingled
my nose. "It's no wonder you have nightmares."

He merely shrugged. We stayed like that,
neither speaking, for a few moments. He seemed to be lost in
thought and I was too choked to speak clearly.

"Do you regret signing up?" I asked
eventually.

He looked up sharply, as if my question
surprised him. The shine in his eyes rocked me. Seeing Blake
stripped of his defenses was painful. "I regret leaving you,
Cassie. I regret the way we parted."

I swallowed heavily.

"But as to regretting joining up…I don't
know. I made some great friends and had some happy experiences too.
I saved some lives. I don't regret that. But I couldn't save them
all and that I do regret."

"You can't blame yourself for your friends'
deaths. That's war, Blake. You just can't save everyone."

"I know. But knowing that doesn't stop me
wishing that I could."

Is that why he wanted to save Robbie from a
life on the street? Was he trying to save just one more soul?

"Being in the armed forces has changed me,
and I'm not sure it's for the good. Part of me wishes I could go
back to the days when we used to steal a kiss behind my parents'
boatshed." The ache in his voice echoed through me. "Life was
simpler then. Happier. Innocent."

"Yeah," I managed to whisper through my tight
throat. I remembered those days too. I'd been sixteen when we first
started dating, Blake eighteen. Everyone thought I was too young
for him, but we were in love and didn't listen. We would sneak off
when no one was looking and sit on the riverbank. Hidden from both
houses, we could cuddle and kiss and explore to our hearts content.
My first sexual experience had been with Blake in the boatshed.
He'd been a kind teacher, a gentleman who cherished me. We never
said the words 'I love you' but I wanted to, and wanted to hear
them in return. By the time I worked up the courage, it was too
late.

Our relationship began to fragment after
Wendy's death. My anger at Reece got in the way, and then there was
Gran's death to cope with and Lyle's rages. The truth of it was, I
wasn't coping. But I never told Blake that. I never told him I
needed his strength and level-headed advice. Looking back, I guess
I was too afraid of driving him away with my problems.

In the end, I drove him away anyway, forcing
him to choose between me and Reece. We'd fought about it on the
front porch. Or rather, I'd shouted and cried while he listened and
tried to reason with me. The next day I learned he'd left. He
hadn't even told his family where he was going.

The Kavanaghs blamed me for a long time for
driving him away. Ellen accused me of knowing where Blake had gone
at first, but somebody must have convinced her that I didn't
because she stopped coming around to my house and badgering me for
news of him. It must have been hard on her, not knowing how he
fared while her eldest son's life also began spiraling out of
control. Reece took to the billionaire's lifestyle with an
intensity that would destroy the health of a lesser man. That had
been my fault too, according to Ellen, because I had never stopped
blaming him for Wendy's death.

Both Blake and I had moved on since those
carefree, innocent days. We'd experienced things we couldn't
forget. Our attitudes had shifted, our responsibilities increased,
and a hell of a lot of water had flowed under the bridge that used
to connect us. In short,
we
had changed. There was no going
back now.

"Pining for the past is never a good idea," I
said. "We should always move forward. Or at least try."

"I am trying." His gaze locked with mine.
"But I also want to capture that innocent, free feeling from when
we were younger, Cass. Before all that other crap got in the
way."

My heart dove to my stomach. It wasn't me he
wanted, it was the feeling that being with me had given him that he
craved. A memory.

But memories couldn't be recaptured. They
were experienced once and no attempt at recreating them ever
worked. It was time for Blake to make new memories, start
afresh.

He should leave again. Leave Roxburg
completely perhaps, but certainly leave me. I was his past. Now he
needed to find his future.

Yet I couldn't tell him that. I lay down and
rolled over. I closed my eyes, but the tears flowed out anyway. I
cried silently until there was nothing left, and must have fallen
asleep. Next thing I knew it was dark. The bed depressed behind me
and I felt him climb in.

I stopped breathing. I should tell him to get
out, to go back to his own room, but I didn't. I pretended to sleep
on and waited without breathing, wanting him to touch me yet afraid
of the feelings that would bring forth. I couldn't stop myself from
making love to him again if he initiated it. I was just too
weak.

He didn't touch me. I lay there, every inch
of my skin taut with the agony of anticipation. When it became
clear he wasn't going to initiate anything, I warred between
starting it myself and taking the wiser course and keeping some
distance. I listened to his breathing and listed the pros and cons
of the options in my head. In the end, it was no contest. To hell
with wise. The con list may have been longer, but there was one
very important factor in the calculations. We'd made love last
night and gotten through this day as friends. We could do it
again.

I rolled over and raised my hand to the dark
shape of him beside me. But his breathing suddenly changed. It
became ragged, shallow, and he whispered something I couldn't quite
hear. Not only was he asleep, he was having a nightmare.

"Blake," I said softly. "Blake, wake up."

He stirred. I placed my hand into his open
palm and he closed his fingers around mine. His grip wasn't
bruising, but it was strong, as if he were anchoring himself.
"Cassie?"

"Yes, Blake. It's me."

He let me go, but I didn't want to sever the
contact yet. Some part of me thought he needed to feel the warmth
and life of another human being, so I placed my hand against his
cheek. His skin was warm and soft above his stubble.

He drew in a shuddery breath. "Thank
you."

His whisper melted me completely. He needed
me at that moment. He needed to touch and hold and feel alive. I
wanted to help him.

I sidled closer and pressed my knees against
his, my hand on his hip. He was naked. I traced the scar with my
thumb and he sighed, a deep, relaxing sigh that came from his
core.

He kissed my throat, his lips a feather-light
caress against my skin. I captured his face and tilted it so I
could kiss his mouth. It was a sweet, gentle kiss, filled with
hints of longing and sorrow and loss. It made my heart ache for
him, for us, for what might have been.

This was it. This was the last time we would
be together so intimately. It was as if we both knew it and wanted
to cherish it. Wanted to make the most beautiful memory ever.

He helped me out of my pajamas and covered my
body with his own. I felt so small and delicate beneath him, but he
kept his weight off me, protecting me. His kisses lingered on my
lips, my eyelids, my collar bone. His hands roamed over my hip, my
thigh and in between us until I was panting and burning up from
within. Without withdrawing his finger from my heat, he slipped his
long length into me. We set a slow, sensual rhythm, our gazes
locked as intently on each other as our bodies. There was none of
the frenzy of last night, but it was more passionate than anything
I'd ever felt before.

His deft fingers lifted me high up before
allowing me blissful, glorious release. I dug my fingers into his
shoulder and rode it out in a haze of pleasure that turned my brain
and body to mush. My orgasm seemed to trigger his and as I crested
the wave, he came too, into me. We'd forgotten to use
protection.