Page 75 of Moving Forward

“You’re bleeding through your bandage,” he tells me.

“Huh?” My voice sounds dreamy.

He runs the pad of his thumb over my forehead. “You’re bleeding,” he repeats. “Why don’t you go find something in my dresser to wear tonight, and I’ll get something to stop the bleeding.”

I pretty much blanked out after he said the words “wear” and “tonight.” I raise my eyebrows. “I’m staying, then?”

“Of course, you are,” he answers gruffly. He gets to his feet. “I’m not going to let you out of my sight now that I’ve got you.” His gaze travels from me to his bed. “Only sleep, nothing else. For now at least.”

For now at least. The sentence sends tingles of anticipation and nervousness through my belly. “And you promise you’re okay with this?”

“Yes. Meet me in the bathroom when you’re dressed.”

His dresser is tucked right beside his bed. When I open a drawer, I’m not surprised to find that his shirts are sorted according to color, earth tones on one side and the rest of the colors ranging from white to black on the other. I remove a black shirt, careful not to mess up his system. I understand wanting to control a chaotic life, so I’ll do whatever I can to make that easier on him.

I quickly get changed and discard my clothes into a neat little pile beside the bed, then I tiptoe to his bathroom. Cain has a lunch bag that doubles as a first aid kit, the contents spread out on the countertop. He’s staring a hole through a tube of antiseptic ointment. He nods his head and sets it back on the counter beside a packet of gauze. Next he picks up tape, checking its label too.

I squeeze past him and lift myself up onto the counter. “What are you doing?”

He sets the tape down. “Making sure none of this is expired.”

“You don’t use it a lot?”

He shrugs. “No use. I never give anything any time to heal.”

He’s trying to push my limits, to gauge just how much of him I can take. What he doesn’t realize is I’ll take everything as long as it’s the real him.

He places his hands on the insides of my knees and all thoughts wash away. He nudges them apart and fills in the gap with his body. I squeak and turn impossibly red as his erection brushes my thigh, which only makes him smirk. Obviously this is as easy as cake for him.

I shift and lock my thighs on either side of his hips, so we’re pressed flush against each other. His body shudders and it takes all the control in the world not to reply with a moan.

He peels back my bandage with fumbling fingers. “If you’re trying to prove a point, I get it.”

I give him a coy smile.

“Stop messing with my head.” He applies the antiseptic ointment and adds the gauze. His fingers trace down my temples when he’s done smoothing out the tape. They continue their journey until he’s gripping my waist, leaving goose bumps in their wake. “I liked seeing you in my sweater. But this . . .” He plays with the hem of his shirt, which hits me mid-thigh. “This is better.”

“Now who’s messing with who?” I ask unevenly.

He chuckles, tilting his head to kiss the underside of my jaw. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

“You keep doing this.”

He travels down my chin and up the other side. “Doing what?”

I ball my hands into fists and set them on my thighs. “Saying one thing and doing another. It’s very confusing.”

He places his hands over my fists and leans away from me. “I’ll stop then.”

“Cain,” I say quietly, on the verge of begging him to continue.

“Now who doesn’t mean what they say? So what if I can barely contain myself when I’m around you? That doesn’t mean I won’t. Like I said, we’re moving at your pace.” He gives me a cocky smile. While I know that smile is reserved for me now, I can’t help wondering how many girls dropped their panties for it. “I’m just reminding you I’m ready.”

He pushes away from the counter and heads back out into the boat’s main room. I slump, resting the back of my head against the mirror. There’s no doubt about it, my body is ready.

“You joining me, Peaches?”

I huff and jump off the counter. “Joining you for what?” I ask hesitantly.

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