Chapter 17: Finding Forever: Chapter 16

Finding Forever: The HawthornesWords: 20714

Fern sighed deeply as consciousness returned in luxuriously slow stages. She was so warm. And comfortable. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so relaxed or so safe.

She opened her eyes, shocked to find the room dark. Why was it dark when she felt so refreshed, like she’d had a full night’s sleep?

She blinked into the darkness, not quite able to get her bearings. The source of all that delicious heat was all around her, but seemed concentrated at her back.

She was so unused to sharing her bed with anyone that it took her a few moments to understand that there was someone laying behind her. Someone big and hard.

Cade… of course it was Cade. There was literally no one else it could be.

Fern was so confused, not sure why he was there, why he was holding her so close. It made no sense. Not with the way things had been between them this last week.

She blinked a few times, trying to orient herself. Maybe she was still asleep. Or dreaming. Her dreams had been disturbing lately, but none of them had been this vivid. Or this pleasant and comforting.

He was snoring slightly, just a quiet soughing sound on every second inhalation. Her imagination surely wouldn’t conjure up such a random detail?

No. There was definitely no denying the reality of her situation.

Her husband was in bed with her. His hard chest was plastered against her back, his long legs entangled with hers. He had his nose buried in her neck—she could feel his warm breath wash over her sensitive skin with every soft exhalation—and his arms wrapped around her. One had woven its way under her arm, across her torso, and between her breasts, with his hand tucked into the curve of her neck. The other arm was under her, the audacious hand of which had crept beneath her T-shirt and was spread possessively over her abdomen—his warm skin on hers making her feel a little lightheaded.

And while that was a lot, it wasn’t even the most shocking thing going on right now.

No. That honor went to the fact that her behind was snugly slotted against his… well that could only be his penis really. His very large, very hard penis.

The rigid length was quite happily berthed in the shallow crevice between her butt cheeks, so closely pressed to her that she could feel the gentle, insistent throb of it.

It left her so flustered, that Fern couldn’t quite prevent a startled little yelp from squeaking past her vocal cords.

The sound woke Cade, she could tell from the way his body instantly tensed.

“You, okay?” he asked in a sexy sleep-roughened voice, subtly shifting so that his penis was no longer plastered against her.

Fern mourned the loss, regretting her panicked squawk. She hadn’t minded the press of him—of it—against her. In fact, she’d liked it. Even if it was probably just a normal reaction to sleeping snuggled up against a female body.

Happily, he hadn’t been so hasty to remove the rest of his body parts away from her. His arms remained securely wrapped around her.

He made a soft, almost distressed sound in the back of his throat and spoke again, “Fern? You didn’t answer me. Are you okay? Did you have another nightmare?”

“Another one?”

There was a long pause during which he lifted himself slightly and half turned away from her to switch on the bedside lamp—an intimate circle of warm light illuminated one side of the bed—before he surprised her by taking her in his arms again.

“You don’t remember? You had a bad dream. About Abernathy. I was trying to comfort you. I must’ve fallen asleep as well.”

“Thank you for—uhm—for caring.”

“He can’t hurt you, Fern. And he can’t hurt our—your—baby. I want you to know that.”

“I do.”

“I want you to believe that.” His tone was autocratic, as if by just commanding it, he could make it come to pass.

“I’m…” She sighed softly, her hand going up to press against his where it rested over her abdomen. “I’m trying, Cade. But it’s hard to undo years of fear and conditioning.”

His thumb was absently stroking lazy little circles over her skin and she fought hard not to shiver in reaction. She didn’t want him to withdraw the way he had earlier. After the last week of strained silence between them, she was so desperate for any warmth, she welcomed this closeness. Even if was an illusion.

She knew that both of their defenses would be up again come morning and it would be business as usual. And foolish though it may be, Fern wanted to draw out this moment of unguarded vulnerability for as long as possible. She very much doubted Cade would let her sneak in beneath his armor like this again.

With that in mind, she turned—ever so slowly as if confronting a feral beast—in his arms, until she lay facing him. They were sharing her pillow and were almost nose to nose. Their height disparity not quite so evident when they were laying down.

His gaze was soft, unfocused, his eyes still heavy with sleep, and he looked more relaxed than she’d ever seen him before.

He didn’t let her go, merely adjusted his hold, the hand which had been on her abdomen, now at rest in the dip of her waist, still on her naked skin.

Emboldened by his lack of retreat, she threaded her bare legs through his, only now becoming aware that he appeared to be fully clothed. The expensive superfine wool of his suit trousers, slightly rough against her sensitive skin.

She lifted a hand to his face and cupped his stubbled jaw. Her thumb swept over the hard line of that jaw, dipping into the shallow cleft before swooping up to the slightly thicker patch of hair just below the full curve of his bottom lip.

And that’s when she realized that he wasn’t breathing. His wary gaze bored into her eyes, but he remained silent—unmoving and unbreathing—as he watched her.

He appeared to be waiting for something. But she wasn’t sure what. She didn’t even know what her next move would be. All she knew was that she loved the feeling of his warm skin and his bristled jaw beneath her palm. As her eyes fell to his lips, she wondered if they felt as soft and pillowy and plush as they looked.

And in his breathless silence all she could hear was her own, ragged breathing, as she ran her palm over his prickly stubble, and wondered if she dared find out.

His hand tightened on her waist and she knew he was about to stop her. But she didn’t want him to say it. Didn’t want him to put an end to her exploration and then distance himself from her again. She wanted this one selfish moment. Needed it. Craved it and⁠—

Oh…

While she was carefully thinking, considering, weighing the pros and cons, Cade made the decision for both of them.

Instead of moving away as she’d feared he would, he moved toward her, his head swooping, until those soft, pillowy, plush lips were on hers.

He finally breathed. A deep, relieved exhalation into her mouth, gifting her with air that he stole from her again a mere second later.

It was a soft, tentative exploratory touch… his lips tender and reverent as they learned hers. Fern was the breathless one now, waiting in hushed anticipation to see what he would do next.

His hand left her waist, coming up to palm her face, as he held it still, using his thumb to tilt her chin slightly, changing the angle of her head so that he could lick at the seam of her mouth. Understanding what he wanted from her, she parted her lips obediently.… She felt more than heard the hushed good girl he muttered… and thrilled at the praise. Then she gasped in gentle shock when he licked at the prominent rise at the center of her cupid’s bow, before sucking it into his mouth with a gravelly purr of satisfaction.

It was the sexiest sound she’d ever heard, and she was proud to be the cause of it. She wound her arms around his neck, burying her hands in his hair as she pulled him even closer.

He was still plucking and licking at the peak of her cupid’s bow, before gently scraping his teeth over it. The gesture sent a wave of unfamiliar erotic and exciting sensations careening through her body, which tore a ragged moan from her throat. She tilted her head back, in the hopes that he’d stop toying with her and deepen the kiss.

He complied with a harsh groan, his tongue flowing into her mouth like lava, scalding everything in its path, as it forged a path of chaotic devastation through her neural pathways. Everything she felt was confusing and new and a little frightening. But Cade’s steady, familiar presence kept her grounded, and she tightened her arms around him, terrified she’d lose herself completely if she didn’t.

He turned slightly—a minor adjustment—and he was on top of her. Fern wasn’t even sure how it happened, but her thighs were spread wide to accommodate his presence between them. The wonderful, hard length she’d felt pressed against her earlier was now throbbing eagerly against her mound.

Even through the layers of his clothing and her embarrassingly soaked panties, she could feel his heat, and she raised her knees to cradle him more fully, planting her feet on the mattress to lift her pelvis and frantically, almost wildly, rubbed the aching, hungry part of her against that deliciously throbbing part of him.

He tore his mouth from hers, and she made a soft sound of protest and lifted her head to follow him.

“Fuck, Fern… stop,” he whispered urgently, his eyes feverish as they focused on her face. “Slow down. I’m going to⁠—”

He made a soft, agonized sound that surprised her because of how helpless and vulnerable it sounded. He levered upright and tore himself away from her. Leaving her laying there, aching, throbbing, hurting… empty. Legs spread wide, T-shirt pushed up to just below her breasts, chest heaving with her excited pants.

Confused, she sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes, watching him, as he sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her, and shoulders defensively hunched.

His breathing was ragged, harsh.

He looked like a cornered wild animal. A messy swathe of black hair covering his eyes as he stared fixedly down at the floor.

“Cade?” She tentatively reached for him, placing a hand on one of his broad shoulders and was gutted when he flinched away from her.

“I just need a moment,” he muttered. “You… that⁠—”

“Did I… Did I hurt you?” she asked uncertainly.

He laughed. The sound was soft, tormented and utterly devoid of humor.

“No, Fern, you just took me by surprise is all.” Despite the aggressive way he’d flinched away from her, his voice was soft, almost gentle. “I need a moment to compose myself, okay?”

“Okay.” She hated how meek she sounded and drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. She rested her chin on top of her knees and watched his tense broad back pensively.

“I liked the way you kissed me,” she offered tentatively and his head whipped around, the movement so fast and unexpected it shook her. His sharp, brooding eyes pinned her to the spot, but unlike Cade, Fern didn’t flinch away. She kept her gaze steady. She was finding that she was made of sterner stuff than she’d ever known.

“Did you?” His eyes took on a predatory gleam and now his upper body swiveled toward her as well. He planted his palm on the mattress, as he leaned toward her… and Fern wondered if he was trying to intimidate her into backing away and recanting her statement.

Well, if that was what he wanted he was out of luck.

“Yes. I thought you did too? Why did you stop?”

The corner of his lip lifted in an oh-so wicked lopsided smile.

“Because, temptress”—ooh she liked the sound of that old-fashioned word very, very much—“you nearly made me come in my pants.”

She lifted her head, her mouth falling open as she stared at him in wonder. He was now fully turned toward her and had repositioned himself until he was crouched, on all fours, on the mattress in front of her.

He prowled—it was literally the only word applicable for the predatory movement—toward her. She uncurled her body from its defensive ball, straightening her legs, as he crept up their length, his hands and knees planted on either side of them.

He didn’t stop until his face was an inch away from hers, at which point he lifted his hands and knelt in front of her. Knees planted on either side of her hips as he straddled her lap. He lowered himself slowly, showing off the impressive strength of his solid thighs by hovering his butt just above her lap.

His broad chest was in her face and he cupped her jaw almost roughly to tilt her head up. The angle gave her a crick in the neck, but she wasn’t about to complain. She found that she kind of liked his uncompromising bossiness in certain situations.

“Do you want to finish what we started?” His voice was so gruff she felt it like a physical scrape over her beaded nipples and down there, where she still clenched and spasmed after the loss of his heat and hardness.

She kept her eyes trained on his, needing him to know that she meant this. That she wanted it.

“Yes.”

“But Fern… This can’t mean anything. We’re scratching an itch. We both want it. It’s just sex. It’s convenient. But it can get complicated. If you have any uh… any feelings for me. We shouldn’t do this.”

“As you pointed out the other day, we don’t know each other,” she whispered, trying to keep that ever-present sting of rejection from her voice as she laid out what were—after all—the facts. “How can I have feelings for a man I barely know?”

He watched her for a moment longer before nodding—seemingly satisfied with her reply.

“Hell with it, at this point, I’m too horny to fucking care. Just remember that this doesn’t mean anything and we’ll be fine. Now… unbutton my shirt,” he said, his authoritative voice sent a thrill down her spine and she hastened to obey.

Her fingers shook slightly as she worked from top to bottom. She fumbled the job quite badly but he was patient, his hands combing through her hair while she revealed his taut, beautiful skin with excruciating slowness. It didn’t help that she was taking outrageous liberties while she was doing it. Her fingers and mouth, petting and stroking and kissing—even biting—every inch of smooth skin she bared.

She moaned when she reached the last button, and pushed the two halves of his shirt apart to stare in wonder at the treasure she’d just uncovered. A hard, broad chest, roughened with a silky black hair over magnificently sculpted pecs. The hair narrowed to a trail that ribboned down his torso between those washboard abs and disappeared into the waistband of his pants.

He shrugged out of the hopelessly wrinkled shirt and tossed it aside, before pushing himself up on his knees until his crotch was in her face. Fern swallowed, and licked her lips, as she stared at the intimidating bulge straining at the fly of his navy-blue trousers.

He placed a hand at the top of her head, and another below her chin and once again tilted her head back to meet his eyes. She had to lean back a bit to see past the jutting swell of his groin.

“Handle with care, princess,” he warned. “My cock isn’t in the mood for any of the touchy feely shit you just did with my chest and abs.”

She moaned and licked her lips at the thought of uncovering the length that—before now—she’d only held and stroked but never actually seen.

He tightened his grip slightly on her jaw, not enough to hurt her—she trusted that he would never physically harm her—but just enough to draw her attention away from his crotch.

“Understand, Fern?”

“Y-yes?”

“What do you understand?” Amusement was laced through the words.

“I can take it out?” Her voice shook with excitement.

“Yes and…?”

“I can touch it?” Now she sounded hopeful.

There was long silence and she lifted her eyes, again, afraid she’d misinterpreted.

“Do you want to touch it?”

“Oh, yes,” she breathed.

“What else do you want to do with it?” His voice sounded only mildly curious, but she could hear the faint tremor in it, and knew he wasn’t as unaffected as he sounded.

“Kiss it?”

“Yes and…?” Now he sounded breathless.

She nodded, before drawing her top lip into her mouth and staring up at him without bothering to disguise her hunger before continuing, “Lick it… suck it.”

His hips gave an involuntary jerk toward her, and her mouth ran dry.

“Fucken hell,” he breathed, his voice an awed whisper. “Where the fuck did you come from, little temptress? Uh… take it out. None of that other stuff. Not this time.”

His hand at her jaw had softened and was stroking her face with tender affection.

“Let’s not run before we can crawl, aye?”

She nodded, not sure what he meant, but eager to please.

Her hands went to his waistband, the backs of her fingers brushing against his abdomen, causing the muscles to leap and spasm in response to her touch. She tightened and leaped and spasmed in sympathy, her already sodden panties flooding with even more moisture.

He groaned, the sound was tortured and she jerked her hands away, afraid that she’d hurt him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he hissed, his voice taut with need. “Get back to work.”

Despite her need and desire to obey, she tucked her hands beneath her hips and glared at him.

“Not if you’re going to be so rude about it.”

He managed a taut smile of appreciation despite the strain around his eyes.

“I’m so fucking sorry for snapping at you, Fern,” he said, his voice emerging between harsh pants. “Now would you please be so kind as to unzip my goddamn pants and take out my cock? Please?”

“Weeeell…” she said, drawing out the word—not entirely sure where this playful, confident impertinence was coming from.

“Fern.” Her name was a primal growl that—not gonna lie—thrilled her to death and added even more wetness to the flood already pooling in her panties.

“Since you ask so nicely,” she said primly bringing her hands back up and going to work, careful not to touch too much skin this time.

She finally had the two buttons undone and—one hand planted on his hard thigh, while the other clasped the tab of his zipper—gingerly dragged the straining metal tab down. He groaned in relief as some of the pressure on his stiff shaft eased and Fern stared at the black boxer briefs that were the only remaining obstacle between her and his-his… cock.

Just thinking the word gave her an illicit thrill and she licked her lips when she realized that he had his own wetness to contend with. Not as much as her, but enough to be noticeable against the black cotton fabric of his briefs. Right where the round tip of his length was pressed, a spot of sticky looking moisture that grew even as she watched.

She tucked her fingers into the elastic waistband of the briefs and—throat suddenly parched with anticipation—peeled them down over that thick, solid pillar of flesh and it seemed to leap out at her, actually catching her on her cheek.

The hot heft of it startled her and she jerked her head back and squealed in surprise, then giggled at her own silly reaction.

“You okay?” Cade asked, voice thick with desire and a bit of amusement.

“Yes, I didn’t expect it to just spring out at me like that.” She swallowed, leaned forward, and nuzzled her cheek along the veined, blistering hot length, turning her face slightly so that her lips grazed it just as she reached the smooth, slick tip.

She was usually so shy, but in this she was bold, and even though she wasn’t sure how or why she was so emboldened, she didn’t care. She felt sexy, excited, eager… and when he groaned, the sound gravelly and harsh and brimming with appreciation, she was happy not to question her unexpected confidence anymore.

Her tongue flicked out… just the tip of it, stroking over just the tip of him and he did that involuntary jerking motion with his hips again. Pushing his hardness toward her, even while he told her, no.

Confused by the contradictory messages, she decided to follow her own counsel and placed both hands around his girth. They could barely close around him and even side-by-side they didn’t quite cover his entire length.

“So big,” she marveled, tightening her grasp slightly while she took another experimental lick at his saltiness. He thrust into her tight grasp and moaned.

“Fuck. No. Stop, lass.”

Again, with the contradictions. This time she listened to what he was saying and released her grip. His beautiful, big penis slapped against his abdomen, looking lewd and angry as it arched out of the open fly of his oh-so proper business trousers.