Up to Me (4 page)

I start to sit up, but Cash stops me.  He leans up on one elbow and pulls my hair away from my face and neck, bending to press his lips against the soft skin beneath my ear.

“Let me.”

I do my best to relax when I feel his hand go to the knotted belt at my waist.  He works it loose with his nimble fingers and then slowly pulls one end until it falls away. 

Next, I feel his skin brush mine at my chest.  He runs his hand along the inside of the lapel of the robe, opening it and pulling it away from my body all the way to my hip. 

As light as the lavender scent emanating from my pores, Cash reaches up and eases the plush material over the ball of my shoulder, gently pressing his lips to the skin there.  “You smell so good.”

Ever so slightly, his hips tip into mine.  Desire gushes low into my belly when I feel his hardness press against me.

He drags his fingers along the skin of my arm, pushing the robe away as he goes.  I bend my elbow and pull my arm free of the sleeve.  Cash reaches down to push the rest of it off my legs.

“Turn toward me.”

Excitement humming along my nerve ends, I do as he asks and I turn onto my back and then continue rolling until I’m facing him.  I’m so close, if I puckered my lips just right, I could kiss his chin. 

In the dimly lit room, I can see his eyes sparkle like black diamonds.  The light from the living room spills softly through the door and illuminates half his face, leaving the other half in deep shadow. 

I can hear his breathing. I can feel the heat pouring from his body.  I know he’s as excited as I am, that he wants this just as much as I do, and yet he’s willing to hold off.  Just for me.

But what if I don’t want him to?  What if, despite the never ending doubts and misgivings and horrors of the day, I want him?  Is that enough?  For now?  Would that be so bad?

It is in a way. In another way, it’s not.  But the fact of the matter is, right now I need Cash.  I need him to hold me, to kiss me, to touch me. I need him inside me, filling me up with his presence and his security.  Tomorrow will bring new worries.  I can think more then.

Just as slowly, Cash runs his fingers up over my collarbone and pushes the material off my other shoulder.  It hangs on the tip of my breast and I see his eyes drop to my chest.  I suck in a breath and hold it.  His gaze burns like a physical touch.

Deliberately, he raises his hand to the center of my chest and runs the backs of his fingers over my nipple, freeing the robe and exposing my flesh to his hungry eyes.  Again, he doesn’t move for several seconds.  Again, neither do I.  When his eyes flicker up to mine, they’re full of all sorts of things, but most apparent is resolve. He won’t let himself give in.  Not tonight.  It’s that important to him.  Why, I don’t know.  Maybe
I’m
that important to him. I can only hope.

Leaning slightly forward, Cash pushes the robe off me, toward my back, running his hand over my butt and then up to the side of my thigh.  When I’m lying in front of him, as naked as he is, he lets his eyes wander over me. 

I see them close just before he rolls onto his back and raises his arm to loop over my head. He pulls me onto his chest.  I let my hand skate over the hard muscles of his stomach and drape my knee over his thigh.

I can’t hear him breathing. I wonder if he’s holding his breath.  I don’t know, but I can hear his heart slamming against his ribs.  He’s fighting me, fighting us, fighting
this.

I think for a second of teasing him a little, of changing his mind, but respect for what he’s doing rears up and stops me.  I don’t want to make more out of his consideration than what it is, but that still leaves me with the question: what does it mean?

Cash’s lips graze my hair just before he croaks, “Go to sleep, baby. You’re safe.  I promise.”

On some level, I must believe him.  So I sleep.

********

Something shifts at my back.  It’s smooth and warm, and it takes me less than a second to realize it’s Cash.  He’s behind me.  And he’s naked.

His hips flex, pressing his erection into the crease of my butt.  Without thought to consequence, I arch my back and push into him.

I hear him suck in a breath and my stomach flutters in response.

He’s awake.

Please don’t let this be a dream.

One big hand skates over my hip and onto my stomach then up to cup my breast.  With his fingertips, he teases the nipple until it aches for him, for his mouth.  Reaching up, I place my hand over his, squeezing his fingers.  He kneads my sensitive flesh until my pulse steps up to a quicker beat.

I feel his lips at the curve of my neck. Then his tongue. It sneaks out to wet a circle on my skin then he nips it with his teeth.  Chills break out down my chest and back, and my belly tightens in anticipation. 

I want this to happen. I need this to happen.  So I go with it.  I encourage it.  I throw myself into it.

Reaching behind me, I grab his hip and pull him into me, grinding my butt against him.  I hear him groan as his hand leaves my breast to travel back down my stomach to the juncture of my thighs.  I spread them the tiniest bit to allow him to touch me.  And he does.  He slides one long finger between my folds, pausing only briefly to flutter over the nub at the top before slipping inside me.

“Mmm, what’s this?” he says, pulling his finger out and then thrusting it in farther.  My nails bite into his hip and he flexes against me again. He’s even harder.  And bigger. If that’s possible.

“Were you dreaming about me?” he whispers in my ear.  “It sure feels like you were.”  He rubs me with his palm and penetrates me with his fingers.  “Were you dreaming of me touching you like this?  Or were you dreaming of me doing more?”

I say nothing. I can’t think past what he’s doing to me, past what I
want
him to do to me.  Over and over and over again.

“I think you were.  I think you want this, but you’re afraid.  But not tonight.  Don’t be afraid tonight.  Just let me have you.  Let me show you how good we are together.”

Gently, Cash moves from behind me. I start to roll onto my back, but he stops me.  “No,” he says flatly.  When I start to speak, he cuts me off.  “Shhh,” he murmurs, rolling me onto my stomach.  “Onto your knees.”  I hesitate only for a second, but it’s long enough.  “Do it,” he orders softly. “I promise you’ll like it.”

I come up onto my hands and knees.  I feel Cash’s warm body at the backs of my legs and my butt as he moves in closer to me.  His warm hands find my hips.  His fingertips dig in and he pulls me back into him, his hardness pressing against me.  A shiver of pure lust trembles through me. 

Pushing gently, he urges me forward.  I crawl toward the headboard until I’m hovering over my pillow.  “Reach out with your hands.”

I do it, curling my fingers around the top of the wooden headboard.  Slowly, Cash bends over me until I can feel his chest against my back.  He breathes into my ear, “Spread your legs.”  When I do, one of his hands moves between them from behind me.  He puts his thumb inside me as his fingertips play with the slippery skin between my folds.  If I were standing, I would collapse. I feel his touch all the way in my knees.  I can’t stop the moan that leaves my lips in a rush.

“You like that?”  His tongue flicks my earlobe.

“Yes,” I say with what little breath I have.

He moves my hair aside and kisses the back of my neck, then the center of my back. I feel his warmth moving away as his lips make a trail down to my lower back and over my butt. 

The bed moves as he shifts behind me.  I feel his head slip between my legs and press into the pillow between them.  I look down just as he looks up and, in the low light, I see his black eyes sparkle.  The fire in them is enough to make me flush all over.

He never takes his eyes off mine as he, from the back, winds his hands around the tops of my legs and pulls me down onto his mouth.

The first touch of his tongue is like lightning.  Heat gushes through my core and lands in a puddle against his lips as they move over me.

“Ride me,” he growls, his voice thick with desire.  As if to encourage me, he thrusts his tongue deep inside me.

With his hands on my legs, he urges me into motion.  In and out, his tongue moves within me.  Back and forth I move on his tongue, rocking on my knees, sliding over his face.  His lips and face stimulate all parts of me at once and it’s nearly more than I can bear.

My breath comes in quick bursts.  My fingernails dig into the wood of the headboard.  My hips rise and fall over his mouth.  My pulse races out of control. 

Faster and harder I grind against him.  When I hear his moan, it flips open the floodgates of pleasure and my world flies apart on the tip of his tongue.

He holds me to him as I close my eyes and give in to the spasms that wrack my body.  Before the contractions fade into blissful nothingness, I feel Cash move.  Within seconds I feel him behind me.  I feel his fingers probing me, gliding in and out of me.  And then I feel something bigger.

His first quick thrust takes my breath.  With a groan, he pulls out and slams into me again, renewing my orgasm.

Wave after wave, I feel my body squeezing tightly around him.  I’m so full, so very, very full.  I feel him everywhere, like he’s penetrating all the way into my chest.  Over and over, he withdraws his length and then drives it back into me, seating himself more deeply each time.

“Take it all, baby,” he says through gritted teeth.  The words are so hungry, so erotic I cry out.

His rhythm increases and so does his breathing.  I know what’s coming.  I know
he’s
coming. 

His body stiffens and he growls with the first pulse of his climax.  He pounds into me in short strokes as he leans forward and twists one hand into my hair and buries his teeth in the skin of my shoulder. It doesn’t hurt, doesn’t break the skin; it only enhances the pleasure that’s already flooding my body.

And just like that, I’m exploding all over again.  Coming apart.  Wrapped in Cash’s arms.  Holding him within my body.

Within my heart.

Within my soul.

CHAPTER SIX- Cash

Sundays are big visiting days at prisons.  It’s always sad to see the number of families sitting at the separated tables.  Kids talking to fathers they barely know.  Wives talking to husbands they barely see.  Lives lived in a way that’s barely human.  In a place like this, it’s easy to see that all mistakes, large and small, have consequences.  The larger the mistake, the heftier the consequence. I just hope nothing I’ve done or have to do in the immediate future land me in here. I think I’d rather be dead. 

On autopilot, I go through the familiar motions of getting in to visit my father.  I’m sitting behind the glass, my hands folded on the table in front of me, when they bring him in.  Although I’m not aware of wearing any particularly telling expression, something I’m doing alerts my father. 

He gets right to the point the instant he picks up the black phone on the wall.  “What happened?”

I meet his concerned eyes, eyes just a shade or two lighter than mine, and I shake my head once, casually reaching up to tap my right ear with my fingertip.  He watches me intently for several long seconds.  I know he’s processing it all and that contingency plans are being formulated as we speak.  Or don’t speak, as it were.

Finally, he nods.  Just once, a short, curt bob of his head.  He understands. I can see it in his eyes.

“Nothing happened.  It’s just been a long weekend.  Work’s been busy.”

The conversation drifts to mundane topics, nothing that would be totally out of the ordinary for one of my visits.  We catch up on people and events and daily real life things, nothing worthy of any extra attention.  I’m hoping it’s just enough to lull any listeners into a lazy state of boredom. 

Finally, Dad steers the conversation back to the most important thing.  But, crafty guy that he is, he does it in such a way that it doesn’t seem obvious.  At least I
hope
it doesn’t.

“So how’d that fishing trip go?  Catch anything?”

I don’t fish.  Nash did, but I never have.  Dad knows that.  And that’s how I know that we’re not really talking about fishing. 

“Nah, it was a no-go. Ended up spending the weekend hiding out.  You know, to work.”

He nods slowly, meaningfully. I know he picked up on my use of the term “hiding out.”

“It can be dangerous.  To work too much.”

“Yeah, I know it can be,” I say, nodding for emphasis.  Still he watches me closely.  It’s like we’re carrying on a much deeper conversation without saying a word.

“Gonna have to hand over some of the important duties to someone else I think.”  I hope he understands what I’m really going to have to hand over. 

“Sometimes you have to do what you have to do, Cash.  Things don’t always turn out like we want.  Or like we plan.  Sometimes, you just have to go with it and do what you think is best.  It’s all about surviving this life.”

“I feel like my hands are tied.”

He nods again.  “Well, giving up everything can have a whole different set of consequences.  Do you have a Plan B?”

I shake my head, raising my hand helplessly.  “No, but I’m open for suggestions.  I’ve still got time.  Just not much.  The club’s in trouble.”  He scratches his chin, still watching me.  “Anything you can think of that might help?  Anything
else
I can do?”

“You’re so damned stubborn,” he murmurs. “You had to go all in, didn’t you?  With that club.  And risk someday going down with the ship.” 

Before Dad got arrested, he didn’t want me to have the books, didn’t want me involved. I convinced him that not only would they provide us with some leverage, but that they would also keep me safe.  As long as Dad’s employers knew the books were…somewhere, they could never risk making a move until they confirmed who had them or where they were.

Only now they’ve confirmed the who.

“That’s what I’m trying to avoid.  Thought you might have some advice.  You’re a pretty smart old man, after all.”  I say this with a grin, a loving one.  And Dad recognizes it. I see it in his eyes, all the affection I have for him reflected there.

“You need help at the club.”

“I’m open to it.  Any suggestions?”

“Here’s what you do.  Take out two ads in the paper.”

“Does anyone still use an actual newspaper?” I tease.

“Some people do,” he says with a casual shrug.  In this case, “some people” must be pretty important people.  “But there’s an online place you can advertise, too.  Don’t put the second ad in there.  Only the first one.  You might get a quicker response from it.”

He goes on to tell me exactly where to place the ads and how to word them.   I make notes in the crappy burner phone I’m carrying.

“You should hear something in a few days.  At the latest.  Maybe getting some help around there will free you up a little more.”

“Yeah.  This is really becoming a problem for some of my employees, too.”

He knows that Olivia bartends for me.

“Well, this might be the answer then.  Sometimes it takes drastic measures.”

“I’m desperate.  At this point, I’d be willing to try pretty much anything.”

He nods again, but says nothing.  In his eyes, I see regret. Deep, painful regret and sorrow. Although he doesn’t have the details, he knows that things are starting to go sideways.  Coming to a head. And not in a good way, not in
our
way.  Having to hand over the books was never part of the plan, never a consideration.  After all this time, I never thought…well, I just never thought.  And not thinking has cost me.  And it might
keep
costing me.

Unless I can figure out something else.  Maybe the ads and whoever they’re signaling will be all the answer I need.  I hope so. 

********

As soon as I get back to my bike, I check my phone.  Signal is lost completely inside the prison.  Olivia knew I’d be unreachable for those few minutes.  She seemed fine with it, much more so than me.  I rushed through the visit as much as I dared so I could get back out into the wired world.  Now I’ve got four bars and no messages, which is a good thing.  I guess.  No emergencies.  No reason to worry. 

But I wouldn’t have minded finding a text or a message from her anyway, reason or not.  Just to let me know she’s okay.  Or maybe that she missed me. 

After a few seconds of internal debate, I give in to the urge and push the button to dial Olivia’s temporary cell phone number. It’s not that I have anything particular to say.  I suppose it’s just that, despite the fact that I’ve only been gone a couple hours, I want to make sure she’s okay.  Just check in. It’s the polite, considerate thing to do.  That’s all.  Nothing more.

Just keep telling yourself that, buddy.

I roll my eyes at that voice in my head.  He’s a smart ass.

“Hello?” comes the sleepy response.

“Did I wake you?”

“That’s okay. I was just being lazy, but I need to get up.  Where are you?”

“I’m still at the prison.  I’m getting ready to leave.  Just thought I’d check in.”

“Really?” There’s a smile in her voice.  And a hint of something else.  Pleasure, maybe?  It seems like she’s happy that I’m checking in with her.

“Does that surprise you?”

She pauses.  “Maybe.”

“Why?”

Another pause.  “I don’t know.  I guess I just keep expecting you to…”

She trails off, but I have no problem finishing her thought.  She still thinks I’m one of her typical bad boy mistakes.  Vaguely, I wonder if I’ll ever be able to do enough or say enough or show her enough that I’m not like that.  At least not in the ways that count.  Or will she always compare me to them? If she does, she’ll always find similarities.  But will she see the differences?  And will they be enough?

Sometimes it sounds like a battle I can’t win. After living the lives of two separate people for all these years, after having to pretend to be things I’m not for all these years, what I really want is someone who sees the
real
me and accepts it.  All of it.  The good, the bad and the ugly. 

But, that can’t be my primary concern at the moment.  There are too many more important things to worry about.  Like keeping everyone alive and safe and unharmed.  Even people I don’t particularly care for, like Marissa.  I couldn’t live with something like her death on my conscience.  Or even her being hurt.  I already feel like shit about this whole mess and nothing has really happened.  Just the thought of it escalating and, God forbid, ending badly gives me a little insight into what Dad must feel.  Every single day.  He has the death of two loved ones on his hands, not to mention whatever else he’s done during his employment with the Russian mafia.

Olivia clears her throat and brings me back to the present.  “How’d it go?”

“I’ll tell you all about it when I get there.  Do you need anything as I come through town?”

“Ummm, not that I can think of.  With what you brought last night, I think I’m all set.”

“Good.  Okay, I’ll see you in a little while for lunch then.  We can order something up to the room.”

Immediately, my thoughts go to the dining room table in the hotel room, to pushing aside china and crystal glasses and heavy silverwear, to tearing that damned robe off her and easing my body into hers.

I bite my lip when I feel blood flow divert away from all my vital, thinking organs in favor of the fun ones.  I’ve gotta stop thinking about shit like that.  I can’t very well ride back to Atlanta, on a motorcycle, with a huge hard-on.  At least not comfortably.

“Mmmm, that sounds good.”  Part of what makes me bite my lip harder is what she said; it’s like she knew exactly what I was thinking.  But most of the reason is the
way
she said it.  She’s got the sexiest voice when she talks low like that.  It’s got a hoarseness to it, like a rumble that I can feel vibrate through me. Wakes my dick up every time.  And he didn’t need any help today!

“All right then.  See you soon.”  I hang up.  I know it probably seemed abrupt to her, but it was either that or take a few extra minutes to walk off a boner before traveling back to the city.  And I hate leaving her alone for one second longer than I have to.  I’m pretty sure she’s safe, but I’m not
certain. 
And as long as I can’t be
certain,
I won’t be taking any unnecessary chances.