Chapter 25: Finding Forever: Chapter 24

“I have something for you,” Cade stated one evening a week later. Fern was curled up on the sofa, exchanging texts with Iris, who was rapidly becoming a really good friend. The woman had been disappointed when Fern had left before they could meet for lunch, but they’d been sending each other hilarious—sometimes off-color—texts and voice notes every day since they’d met. Once her awe of having a bestselling author as a friend had worn off—Fern had found herself excited and grateful about the blossoming friendship. The last friend she’d had such an instant connection with had been Margot.

She peered up from her phone to find Cade looming above her, hands in his pockets as he watched her intently.

“You’re home,” she said with a surprised blink. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I gathered as much,” he said. “You were too busy sending giggling voice notes to your friend. And what exactly is a penis fly trap?”

Fern’s eyes widened and she squeaked in horror and dropped her phone to cover her face with her hands.

“You heard that?”

“I did.” She felt the seat depress next to her as he sat down and she lifted her face from her hands, cheeks flaming, to meet his eyes.

“What else did you hear?”

“Enough to intrigue me. I didn’t take you for a gossip, Fern. Who are you even gossiping about? I didn’t think you and Iris had any friends or acquaintances in common.”

Fern’s gaze widened and this time her hand went to her mouth as she tried to stifle her giggle.

“We weren’t gossiping.”

“Then who is this woman to whom you were referring as a penis fly trap? The one who regularly gets her—what was that term? Hoohoo?—yes, her hoohoo vajacialed. Also… what the fuck is a vajacial?”

This time the laughter she’d been fighting to hold in finally escaped through the cage of her fingers and pealed out in horrified delight.

He sat quietly, while she quite literally clutched her stomach and rolled with laughter. When her amusement eventually faded into quiet chuckles, she looked up at him through a haze of tears, and found him staring at her with an arrested expression on his face. His eyes were oddly gently, his lips curved into a small, bemused smile, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of her, but found that he liked what he saw nonetheless.

She wiped at her eyes with the heels of her hands.

“That funny, huh?” he murmured, reaching over to swipe a thumb over a few stray tears that she’d missed. His touch lingered, his thumb sweeping toward the corner of her lip, before his hand stilled, palm still cupped over her cheek.

She smiled at him, her own hand going up to cover his as she leaned into his gentle touch.

“We were discussing the villain in her new story. Iris is a bit stuck and frustrated as a result. I was tossing out a few blatantly ridiculous character ideas in an effort to tease her out of her funk. We definitely weren’t speaking about a real person.”

She laughed again—nervously this time—self-conscious beneath that almost possessive stare.

“That’s nice of you. You’re a good friend.” She fought hard to keep from glowing at his faint praise. Cade’s approval still meant too much to her. And she needed to stop hoarding his compliments the way survivalists hoarded resources in preparation of the inevitable zombie apocalypse.

She dropped her hand from his and after a breathless, lingering moment, his touch retreated from her face and his hand lowered.

“You said you have something for me?” she reminded him, keeping her tone cool, interested.

Friendly.

“Yes. Right,” he said, smoothing his face into indifference again. But Fern was starting to recognize his tells. Despite the fact that it was his default resting face, Fern believed that Cade was rarely—if ever—indifferent.

Right at that moment, for instance, she could see lines of strain around his eyes, his lips had thinned, and—yes, there it was—the shallow furrow between his brows, indicating that he was troubled.

He dipped a hand into his suit jacket pocket, and produced a slender, rectangular box. He held the velvet, dark blue, jeweler’s box in his open palm and extended it toward her.

Fern stared at the closed box in confusion.

He was giving her jewelry?

Why?

“What’s this?” she asked, hearing the distrust and suspicion in her voice but helpless to do anything about it. Especially since those were her two overriding emotions right now.

“Take it,” he urged, thrusting the box closer.

She shook her head stubbornly and tucked her hands under her thighs in a move that she’d be the first to admit, was more than a little childish.

“I don’t want, jewelry, Cade. You’ve already given me too much.”

“It’s not—” he began, then bit off the words and rolled his eyes. “Fuck’s sake, why is nothing ever easy with you?”

He snapped the box open in quick, impatient movements, and yanked out whatever was in it before tossing the box carelessly aside.

He held it up in front of her face, a long, dangling object clasped between his thumb and index finger.

A delicate bracelet, brushed platinum, in the same diamond encrusted twisted design as her wedding and engagement rings. With a narrow inch long oval face, engraved with a caduceus and clear block letters.

Fern Hawthorne – Peanut Allergy.

“Oh.” Shock quite literally stole her breath away. Although, why she was shocked she did not know. He’d told her he was going to do this. But that had been weeks ago and the memory had been pretty much eclipsed by everything else that had happened between them that same night.

She took it from him and turned it over in her hands, taking in the finer details.

“It’s beautiful, thank you.”

“I’ll feel better knowing you’re wearing it,” he informed her, the gruffness in his voice betraying his discomfort.

She nodded and attempted to put it on her left wrist, fumbling with the clasp.

“Please… allow me.” He gently moved her hand aside and made quick work out of fastening the clasp, before turning her wrist to look at the bracelet.

Fern wasn’t checking out the bracelet though, she was watching him and she caught the brief flare of relief in his eyes as he ran his thumb over the face of the bracelet.

He smiled, the slightest lift of his lips and—seemingly without thought—brought her hand to his mouth to drop a kiss on her knuckles.

“Much better,” he muttered, voice teeming with satisfaction.

There was a brief, tense silence, during which he continued to hold her hand.

“Will you⁠—”

“What did y⁠—”

They spoke simultaneously and then laughed awkwardly.

“You first,” he invited graciously.

He lowered her hand back to her lap with exquisite tenderness and put some distance between them. He angled his body toward hers—giving her his undivided attention—and extended an arm along the back of the sofa while resting his left ankle on his right knee.

The hand on the back of the sofa was perilously close to her shoulder, and Fern was hyperaware of the fact that she was wearing a spaghetti strap top, which left her shoulders and back mostly bare.

“I-I was going to ask if you’d be available to join me for my meeting with Cyrus Bradford”—her attorney—“tomorrow afternoon. He says he has news,” she said, discomfited by the hoarse tone in her voice, fearing that it revealed too much of her inner tension.

His eyes sparked in interest and he raised his brows before asking in a speculative voice, “What news?”

“Well, if I knew that, I’d have led with it, wouldn’t I?” She rolled her eyes, unable to keep the acerbic note from her voice, and he rewarded her with a rusty chuckle.

“So scathing, Fern. Granted it was a dumb question, but I’ve had a long day and I’m not quite firing on all cylinders.” She was immediately contrite when he stifled a yawn. She knew he’d been putting in a lot of extra hours while rearranging his life and schedule thanks to their semi-permanent move to Cape Town.

She quickly stifled that brief flare of guilt as she reminded herself that he’d chosen to join her here. So, this was an inconvenience of his own making.

The silence stretched on for a beat too long while Cade clearly waited for an apology that was not forthcoming.

He grinned then. An unexpected, full on—teeth and all, dimples a-blinking—proper grin. And she was mesmerized by its astonishing beauty.

“Well done, sweetheart,” he murmured in what sounded like sincere admiration “Not too long ago you would have allowed me to goad you into apologizing.”

His words took a second to sink in, but when they did all the warm pleasure she felt at his smile faded and her brows slammed together in irritation.

“I’ve done nothing to apologize for.”

“You haven’t,” he agreed and that easy assent annoyed her even further.

“So, can you join me tomorrow or not?” She flung the question down like a gauntlet.

“Just let me know when and I’ll have Mitch shuffle some stuff around to accommodate it.”

She nearly said something about not wanting to inconvenience him, but bit back the words. He was watching her face closely and clearly knew her better than she realized because he chuckled quietly, before saying almost to himself, “Good girl.”

Aah, hell.

Those two words, in that helplessly admiring voice, were her undoing. She backslid and allowed herself to bask—for only the very briefest of moments—in the warmth of his approval.

“What were you going to ask me earlier?” she queried.

“Just wanted to know what you did today.”

“The usual. Oh, and I finished my late entrance application to UCT,” she told him. Her days were pretty samey at the moment. She did some yoga, read every bit of literature she could find on occupational therapy, swam a few laps. The pool wasn’t very big, but since walking up and down the steep hill alone had been strictly forbidden—and pretty much ruled out by her own pregnant body—by Cade, it was the best she could do for exercise. She tried to keep busy, but honestly, when Cade wasn’t around, she often found herself bored and frustrated. She felt like she was stuck in a holding pattern, waiting for her real life to finally begin.

She’d applied to several local universities, aiming for a late acceptance to do a part time course in occupational therapy over the next few years. She hoped that because it was part time, her chance of acceptance would be higher. But she wasn’t too optimistic.

“That’s good news,” Cade said, his voice admiring. “If you need help with… with the uh baby, I’d be willing to uhm step up. And babysit. And stuff.”

The stuttered offer was so tentative that Fern wasn’t entirely sure how to take it.

He still found it so hard to even say the word baby that it was hard for her to believe that the offer was sincere.

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” she replied, her voice colder and curter than she’d intended. She felt immediate regret when his expression shuttered and he retreated. His emotional retreat palpable enough to leave Fern with an irrational ache of loneliness as a result.

“Right, of course,” he said, voice so bitter the words practically curdled as they left his mouth. The smile that had been flirting on the edges of his lips, along with the warm light in his eyes had both faded completely and he was quite determinedly not meeting her gaze.

He seemed almost… well, he seemed hurt and Fern fiddled restlessly with her new bracelet as she watched him closely. It was the first real indication he’d ever shown that he may want to take an interest in the baby and she’d thoughtlessly rejected the tentative overture.

It had been a knee jerk, defensive response.

“I know I can manage, Cade,” she said again, gentling her tone, and then offered, absolutely terrified of being shot down, “But, if you want to spend time with the baby while I’m busy studying, I wouldn’t mind.”

His eyes jerked up to meet hers, his face going slack with an interesting mix of terror, panic, and relief.

“I don’t really know much about babies,” he muttered, panic adding a high note to his voice.

“Neither do I, but I’m confident I’ll learn as I go along.”

“Are you? How… how can you be so sure.”

“I’m not,” she confessed with a grin, allowing her own fear and uncertainty to show. “But I live in hope.”

Some of the warmth crept back into his eyes and he allowed the smallest of smiles to settle on his lips.

“I’m certain you’ll be a wonderful mother, Fern,” he offered, his low voice intense.

Fern swallowed painfully, not entirely sure how to respond to the absolute certainty she heard in his voice.

“We should get changed,” she told him brusquely, keen to shatter the intimacy of the moment and change the subject.

The soft warmth in his gaze gradually dissipated and he stared at her in confusion.

“Get changed? For what?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Didn’t Mitch remind you? Your father arrived today. We have that welcome dinner at Beth and Gideon’s, remember?”

“Fuck,” he intoned in a low voice and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s tonight?”

“That’s an hour from now,” she clarified.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed.

“Right. I’d better get to it then.” The loose relaxation of just a moment ago had all but disappeared to be replaced with obvious reluctance and tension.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I’m not… great with family events.”

“You were fine at the last one,” she pointed out. Although, come to think of it, he had kept himself slightly separate from his siblings that afternoon. And then there had been all that strange awkwardness over his name.

She nibbled on her top lip—considering the wisdom of opening up that particular can of worms again— and his gaze sharpened on her mouth with the intensity of a hawk homing in on a rabbit. The probing stare unsettled her so much that she said the first thing that popped into her brain, which—unfortunately—happened to be the subject she’d seconds ago decided not to broach.

“Does this have anything to do with the Niall slash Cade thing?”

His jaw tightened and she braced herself.

Ugh, here we go again.

“There is no Niall slash Cade thing.” His tone was a lot milder than she’d been expecting.

She chewed the inside of her cheek.

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

“I don’t believe you, though.” Aargh, why did her mouth randomly decide to just spew out things without her permission like that? It was really annoying.

“I can’t control what you choose to believe,” he said with a careless shrug. “Just please—for the love of God—do not bring it up in front of my father tonight.”

She was going to let it go, honestly she was, but that comment only fueled her curiosity further.

“Why not?” she asked, then dramatically squeezed her eyes shut and—with her palms up and in a breathless, pleading voice—added, “Please-don’t-be-cross-with-me-I’m-just-trying-to-understand-you-better.”

Nothing.

Just a drawn-out silence that had her opening one eye tentatively to search his face.

He was staring at her in amusement, that soft, warm glow back in his eyes.

“You’re trying to understand me better?” he repeated, he sounded… odd and his voice wobbled on question. Maybe that’s what was odd, the wholly out of character uncertainty she could hear in his deep, velvety voice.

She opened her other eye and dropped her hands and smiled at him, hoping he could see her sincerity in that smile.

“Of course, I am, Cade,” she replied softly.

“But why?”

“When you’re shipwrecked on a deserted island with only one other person, it’s in your best interests to get to understand each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Don’t you agree? How else will we know how to allocate which task to whom?”

“I’m just used to doing all the tasks.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Cade,” she scoffed with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I could weave a mean thatch roof from palm fronds. I bet you’d do a terrible job and our roof would leak.”

He smiled again, another stunner, and without warning cupped his hand around the side of her neck, his thumb moved to tilt her chin upwards.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he told her in an urgent undertone, the smile disappearing to be replaced by a brooding intensity that sucked the air out of the room and made it impossible for her to breathe.

She wet her lips with her tongue and his smoldering gaze dropped to her mouth.

“It drives me fucking insane when you do that.” His voice was a low rasp that sent a delicious shiver down her spine and instantly tightened her nipples and clit into hard, throbbing knots of sensation.

She moaned, the sound husky with desire and it was all the permission he needed.

He claimed her mouth without another word. She sighed—the sound loaded with utter contentment—and her lips melted beneath the scorching heat of his.

He now had her face cupped in the palms of both hands, as he continued to voraciously eat her mouth. His skillful tongue thrusting and parrying with hers, setting her senses on fire. It was all-consuming but she was right there with him, coming alive in his arms, arching toward him, her arms winding around his neck, as she plastered her chest to his, wanting more, needing everything.

He tugged her toward him and she went eagerly and enthusiastically. She straddled his lap, knees sinking into the sofa on either side of his thighs, and settled herself against the hard bulge straining against the seam of his dark trousers.

He was wearing a suit, while she was in thin cotton shorts and a pretty powdery blue camisole. Her bras were all getting too tight and she rarely wore one at home anymore, so when he finally relinquished her mouth to peel the top up it was to reveal her bare breasts to his heavy-lidded gaze.

She actually felt his penis—no…his cock, she like that word better, just thinking it made her feel all hot and bothered—jerk between her legs at his first sight of her boobs. They’d gone from b-cups to c-cups and her nipples had darkened and stood out in stark contrast against her pale skin.

“Christ,” he whispered in reverence, looking a little dazed as he stared at her chest. “They’re different. But still so fucking beautiful. I’ve noticed, of course, but never really dreamed…”

His voice tapered off and he ran his index finger down the swell of one breast toward the upward tilt of her straining nipple. He had a small frown of concentration on his face as he intently followed the movement of his finger. Fern waited in breathless anticipation for his touch, but he got sidetracked by the ruched edge of her dusky pink areola, tracing the circular seam with painstaking slowness.

He swallowed audibly, then licked his lips…

“Your nipples, Jesus, they’re the size of cherries. So, fucking ripe and tempting. Spectacular. I’m going to have to taste them,” he said, urgency in his voice, he swallowed again. “My mouth is actually watering at the mere thought of it.”

“Please,” she begged, wrapping a palm around the back of his head and exerting some pressure. “Please… Cade, I want that. Please taste them. I think I’ll go out of my mind if you don’t.”

She was barely aware that she was greedily rubbing her clit—also highly sensitized thanks to her advancing pregnancy—against his hard shaft.

Cade made a deep, satisfied rumbling noise in his chest that sent pinpricks of delicious sensation to her nipples and her clit, and engulfed her nipple—areole and all—with the searing heat of his mouth.

She cried out and wrapped her arms around his head, elbows digging into his shoulders as she writhed against him in an agony of ecstasy. He wasn’t gentle, his mouth taking deep pulls on her nipple, with his teeth intentionally grazing the tender skin and adding an extra layer of excitement to the experience.

He had her other breast squeezed in his hand, and after a few more thirsty tugs, he switched to the other bullet-hard knot.

Fern was sobbing now, desperate for more, but also not certain she wanted this exquisite torture to stop.

In the end, the decision was taken from her.

In one swift and unexpected move, he changed their positions and Fern found herself sitting on the sofa with her legs spread, and her husband kneeling on the floor between them.

Before she knew it, he had her shorts—with their convenient drawstring waist—off and tossed aside, with her thighs flung over his shoulders and his face buried between her legs.

And that was when she felt his tongue…

It didn’t take long. A few flicks of his tongue, a hard suckle on her clit, a couple of fingers and she was there. Screaming, coming apart at the seams, while he continued to lick and finger her.

When she came back to herself, it was to find her husband watching her in smug satisfaction. She was stark naked, slumped halfway down the sofa, thighs still splayed, nipples still hard, and sopping wet between her legs. She was a mess, she knew it, and yet, Cade was staring at her like she was the most desirable woman on the face of the earth. Fist tightly wrapped around his cock, as he stroked himself in long, leisurely pulls, palm twisting over the plump glans in a fascinating motion.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth and pushed herself upright.

“Let me,” she implored, and he sat down on the sofa beside her. Her rapt gaze remained glued on the column of flesh, thrusting up at her from his open zipper. It was so big and bossy looking. Well, it was a part of Cade, it was bound to be demanding. This part of him absolutely fascinated her and she was eager to get reacquainted with it.

He picked up her hand and thrust it between her legs.

“Get it good and wet with your cum, sweetheart,” he instructed and she obediently lubricated her hand with her own sticky wetness, hissing a bit at how sensitive she still was down there.

She wrapped her thoroughly coated hand around the throbbing column, loving the familiar feel of it and enjoying how it was too big for her hand. She gave it a little squeeze and he lifted his butt and hips in an involuntary motion. His head dropped onto the back of the sofa and he groaned at the first touch.

“Look at you,” he marveled with a gasp, slitted gaze angled down at her as she worked her hand up and down his shaft. “Perfect and pretty and prim. Sitting on the sofa, stark naked with my cock in your hand. I’ve never seen you look more beautiful.”

She beamed at him and rewarded him for the praise by tightening her grip and increasing her pace.

“Fuck, yes,” he whispered. “Yes, beautiful girl, just like that. I fucking love it, you’re so good. You make me so hard. With your gorgeous tits, and your big, puffy nipples. Make me come, Fern.”

Cade was surprised when Fern got off the couch and knelt between his thighs, lubricating her other hand as well, and wrapping it around the base of his cock, beneath her other fist. She stroked him with enthusiasm and much better technique than the first few times she’d done this. She watched his dick eagerly, obviously enjoying the sight of it in her hands as much as he did. She licked her lips and he jerked in response, which startled her into tightening her fists even more… to the point of pain almost.

And it nearly blew the top of his head off. He cried out, the sound involuntary and it brought her bright, curious gaze up to his.

“You like that?” she asked and then tightened her grip again. He moaned helplessly and she bit her lip, and then gave him the most mischievous little grin. Nose scrunched, and her eyes all squinty and sparkly, that shallow dimple twinkling in and out existence like a firefly’s glow on a summer’s evening.

Not only beautiful, but cute too.

“Uh huh,” he grunted. “I like it a lot.”

“I’m happy,” she told him with a happy smile. “I like making you feel good.”

She tightened her grip again, then released, and repeated the process, while moving her hands up and down in the stroking motion. It almost imitated the way her pussy would clutch and spasm around his cock and it felt amazing.

She lifted her attention from his penis to his eyes. He stared back at her, his gaze bouncing between her flushed face and her small, pretty hands wrapped around his cock. Her wedding rings gleamed in the light, catching his eye with every movement of her hand.

His wife.

Beautiful, glowing, pregnant…

That thought made him groan again, the sound guttural, and—when her hands tightened once more—he cried out in agony and painted her gorgeous tits and dark, swollen nipples, with his thick cum.