Page 88 of Gorgeous

“We’re going to the lake tomorrow,” Cade says, wiping off the bench where I shamelessly came not once, but twice. Guess Cade and I can now say we’ve added to the jizz in this room.

“Okay,” I say, sliding my underwear back on, a sinking feeling in my stomach. He’s letting me down easily. “Sue and I have a ton of orders to fill. Soak up some sunshine for me.” That didn’t sound clingy, did it?

Cade stops wiping down the bench and gives me a funny look. “I was hoping you would come with us.”

He was? Well, color me surprised. “You mean, you don’t want to offer me a ride home?” I tease with a smile. He rolls his eyes, tossing the towel into a nearby hamper before swaggering his fine ass up to me.

“No, smartass. I don’t want to take you home. I want to take you to our lake house. It’s my birthday.”

This motherfucker. My eyebrows battle with my hairline when I look at him like I might smack him. “Your birthday?”

He’s lucky he looks ashamed. Otherwise, I think I might have kneed him in the balls.

“Cade! Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs almost boyishly. “It’s not a big deal. I would rather not celebrate it, but Anniston insists on it.”

“Well, duh. It’s your birthday, not just another Saturday,” I argue with the idiot.

“Does that mean you’ll go with me?”

The blood must still be pumping below because he must be crazy to think I would turn down going anywhere with him when he’s asked me so earnestly. I press against him, my hand cradling the back of his neck, communicating what I need. He complies. At first, it’s just a peck, a sweet kiss meant to imply that I’m a sure thing, but when he hums, like he is actually worried I may say no to him, that is when I go for it. My tongue pushes at his lips, shocking them open. My hand holds his head to mine, my free hand yanking at the elastic on his shorts so hard he grunts. I’m about to plow this man right here on the floor.

Cade takes control, grabbing my wrist and halting any further molestation of his nether regions. “Soon,” he pants against me, his forehead resting on mine.

Soon. I can do soon.

If we’re being technical, I could wait years for Cade, but I don’t want to. I know we haven’t had long since the PTSD incident which will now be referred to as the night we never speak of, but things seem different since Cade admitted what happened with his team that night. He seems lighter. Less burdened by guilt. I can’t say for sure but he seems better than before. Happier even.

“Okay,” is all I respond with while stroking up and down his back in a soothing motion.

And that is that.

Cade’s birthday is this weekend, and I’m going to bang the hell out of him thirty-three times. One for each year and one to grow on.

Something tells me he won’t mind.

The next morning we all load up in our respective vehicles, Theo bitching more than anyone else. “I don’t understand why Killer and Tim both have to ride with us. Why can’t they ride with Mason?”

Hayes, perched on his motorcycle, hollers across the driveway, “Because we couldn’t fit all your crowns in one vehicle, princess.”

“All the luggage is Anniston’s,” he argues, turning around to glare at Anniston in the passenger seat of her SUV, casually doing something on her phone like no one is yelling next to her. “I told you we didn’t have to bring half the house. Put some of that shit back so Tim can ride with Mason and Vic.”

Everyone laughs, knowing good and damn well he planned on pulling over and christening every gas station they stopped at. Anniston and Theo revel in being exhibitionists. Having Tim and Killer in the car shoots that plan to hell.

Anniston barely graces him with a look before Hayes barks out, “Get in the car, Von Bremen. It’s only an hour and a half drive.”

Theo, irritated from shit not going his way this morning, flips off Hayes, turns on his heel, and flops down in the driver seat. His window inches down slowly and he turns his head in my direction. I laugh before he even says anything. “Jameson. I will ram your ass if you drive like a chick. I’m serious. I’m not in the mood for your Sunday driving. Keep your foot on the gas.”

Breck snickers next to me, all buckled in like she should be. “I’m gonna put my foot on something else if you keep running your mouth,” I promise, only slightly joking. The asshole in the car next to me rolls his window up, cutting off anything else I would say, and revs his vehicle before speeding off, sending gravel flying up behind his tires.

“Why is he so upset this morning?” Breck asks, the mint of her breath prominent in the small cab. “I heard him and Ans in the kitchen this morning. He can’t be pent-up already.”

I eye Breck curiously. “Did you watch them?”

She scoffs. “No.” But her hands fidget in her lap, telling a different story.

“You little liar,” I tease, not offended in the slightest.

---