Page 95 of Cadence
And it fucking guts me, because in a different world, one where the band wasn’t on the line, where things I’m keeping from her weren’t between us, growing bigger every day, this might’ve be different. And as she stares at me, she has no clue that I need to end…this.
Not that there’s anythingtoend. It’s just been touches and tension and sex in shadows.
Just need.
So why doesn’t it feel like that’s all this is?
“Paige, I—”
She shakes her head, rushing forward and pressing the book to my chest, her hand firm against it.
“It was perfect,” she says, almost a whisper. “Every line, every word, every heartbreaking beat of it.”
My heart pounds harder as I hold my hand over hers, right over the pages, over the song, over everything I can’t say out loud.
Tell her.
But I can’t, not when she’s so open and unguarded, standing in front of me like she sees something in me no one else does. The words get stuck in my throat, and I let the notebook fall from between us, keeping her hand on my chest.
I move carefully, my free hand tracing her neck, her jaw, committing each curve of her to memory like I won’t get another chance.
Because I won’t, and it kills me.
I want to say all the things clawing at me, to let her know everything. But I don’t get to want her and protect her and the band. Not at the same time.
Leaning in and taking my time, I don’t kiss her like before, her lips parting beneath mine, soft and warm and real. She tastes like quiet and comfort and the kind of heartbreak that won’t leave a mark until later, when it’s too late to stop.
Paige loops her arms around my neck, gently closing the gap, her lips like silk against mine, her tongue a gentle brush as it slides into my mouth. I walk her backward slowly until the backs of her knees brush the edge of the bed, and she sinks down onto it without a word.
There’s no fighting this time. No teasing, no rushing, just the two of us and the truth we’ve been pretending not to see.
My hands find the hem of her shirt, guiding it up slowly, inch by inch, to reveal the skin I got to touch in the dark. But tonight, under the light, it feels different.
It’s like I’m saying goodbye with every drag of my fingers, like I’m trying to take something with me before I lose it, each kiss an apology I don’t know how to voice. And maybe if I worship her body like she deserves, she’ll forgive me for what I’m about to do.
Silently, I toss the shirt to the floor and kneel between her legs, pressing a kiss to the inside of each thigh, travelling up to her hips, to the dip of her belly, each one of my touches making her sink back into the mattress. My fingers skate up her sides,needing to touch her with every part of me as my clothed body blankets hers.
She looks at me, blue eyes shining with something that cuts like a knife to my heart. Because I’m a coward. A sick, twisted man, taking what he wants one last time when she has no idea what it really means.
Her fingers smooth under my shirt, over my ribs, mapping me as she pulls me back down for a kiss that has the power to bring me to ruin.
These are the moments cruel love songs are carved from. Heartache and deceit disguised as tenderness, pain and regret for ever letting someone in.
She deserves more than this.
More than me.
And still, I kiss her again, like maybe, just maybe, if I give her all of me now, maybe she’ll never realize that while she was letting me in, I was already walking away.
Chapter Forty
Paige
“Sobeautiful,”hemutters,almost to himself, trailing his hand down between my breasts, the warm metal of the ring on his thumb like molten lava on my sensitive skin as he creates a path to my stomach. His eyes never waver, a man entranced, watching his fingers dip into the waistband of my shorts, the other hand tapping gently on my hip. “Lift.”
I move instantly, obsessed with the way he’s looking at me as he drags the shorts down my calves and over my ankles, letting them join the same fate as my shirt. I’m naked and exposed while he sits there, fully dressed, eyes like two black pools of desire, devouring me whole.
Like before, he’s back to exploring, taking his time, touching every part of me. It’s torture, a slow and painful buildup as his fingers tease my pussy, his mouth sucking one nipple and thenthe other, never quite giving me what I want. I feel everything, the heat of his stare, the burn of his touch, each sinful lap of his tongue.
