Page 37 of Cade

I felt rather on the spot at his statement, but for the first time in my life, it felt like a weight had been taken off my shoulders at the same time.

The truth for once felt... freeing. Dawson was right.

I’d gone after assholes because I thought it was what I deserved, and that truth helped me see the recognition in Weston’s eyes.

He thought he deserved them too, but it was clear to me as he fought to give in to his obvious desire, that maybe he deserved more too.

He’d just never asked for it.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

At that moment, the waiter decided to bring our cheeseburgers, and Weston pulled his hand back, leaving mine alone.

The strange air of vulnerability had broken, as Weston shook his head, dispelling all thoughts and confessions for the moment in favor of sweet, sticky barbecue sauce and bacon grease.

I watched as he bit into his burger, his eyes practically rolling back in his head.

“Oh fuck, Cade...” he moaned, making my cock throb.

I want to hear him say those words about me...

I cleared my throat. “Uh...”

“This is the best burger I think I’ve ever had,” he said as some barbecue sauce dripped down his chin.

I smirked before picking up my own and diving in. The salty sweetness on my tongue was divine, and I was pretty hungry.

“You ain’t kidding,” I said with a light laugh as I took another bite, practically devouring my burger in a matter of seconds.

The rest of the lunch was like that. The two of us completely annihilating our sandwiches, laughing, talking about stupid shit.

Like weird food combinations, movie recommendations. What the secret ingredient was in Sandra’s homemade pralines.

Weston insisted it was espresso powder, but I didn’t believe him.

By the time the check had come, I was a little shocked. Though it had been an hour, it felt like time had just flown by way too fast.

I liked talking to him.

Hell, I liked him.

I knew it was crazy after one lunch to think you knew someone, but I was starting to know Weston Rhodes.

Not the Weston that I’d seen in articles on the Internet, or the one who swiveled around sexily in his egg chair at Rhodes Enterprises.

But the one who knew all the words to Don’t Go Breaking My Heart, understood my Star Wars reference, apparently had an obsession with buffalo chicken dip, and who fought me tooth and nail to pay the bill.

“At least let me pitch in,” I whined.

Weston shook his head. “Absolutely not. I owe you.”

I watched him sign the check and hand it off hastily. I sighed, my shoulders relaxing as I arose from my chair.

“Well, since you insisted. Thank you. But you should let me return the favor... sometime,” I said as Weston came behind me, setting his hand against the small of my back. He gently touched me, pushing me toward the doors. I walked slowly, never moving to remove his hand. I liked how it felt, warm against my shirt.

Calming, soothing.

When we exited Bernard’s the sun warmed my air-conditioned blood.

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