Page 48 of Worthy

Maddox

Pleasure. That’s all I feel right now. Cade’s lips are just as soft against mine as they were the first time, and it feels so good I can barely breathe. Barely think. If he wasn’t sturdy enough to help me stay upright, I’m sure my knees would’ve given out by now.

He’s kissing me like he’s trying to commit my taste to memory. Touching me like he’s not sure he believes I’m real. For a brief moment I panic that this is too intimate too soon—things could never be meaningless between us, but they aren’t supposed to be meaningfuleither—then my body takes over, and I moan my consent.

That sound seems to bring him back to the present, and he pulls away.

“Shit. Sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” Despite the distance between our lips, his hands still linger on my face.

“I kissed you.” I glance down to where my hand is still fisted in his shirt.

“I…” His gaze flits between my hand and my face, dazed. “Wait, you want this? Me?”

I nod slowly, never taking my eyes from his.

“Oh, thank fuck.” His relief makes me chuckle, but it’s quickly cut off when he presses his lips to mine. Though I feel the tension in his limbs, taste his desperation, he handles me gently, his full, soft lips caressing. Savoring. Claiming. It’s a stark contrast from the crazed desire I was expecting, but if anything, it endears him to me even more.

Cade’s keeping his word, treating me as someone he’s privileged to kiss rather than someone he can get off with. It makes me feel respected and desired as opposed to merely coveted for my looks alone, and to me, that’s the sexiest affirmation I could receive.

***

The rest of the hike is comical. We’re both too high with lust to do much besides look at each other and grin, like we’re smitten teenagers on a first date. And for Cade, who’s never really dated, much less dated a guy, this might actually be his first.

That thought makes me unreasonably happy. To think, he may never have experienced the shortness of breath, the racing heartbeat, when the accidental brush of a hand evolves into clasped fingers, the way ours are now. He may never have felt the butterflies that accompany such an innocent but sensual touch. The selfish part of me hopes that’s true, so I can be his first. So he’ll remember me fondly after the summer ends, long after we’ve parted ways.

When we get back to the car, Cade comes around to my side to open my door, but before I get in, he presses up against me, pinning me between it and his body.

″I don’t want this day to be over.” He brushes his lips over mine.

″Me, either.” I gasp for air.

″I want to take you to dinner, but I don’t want to see anyone besides you tonight.” He plays with a strand of my hair, making me grateful I keep it to my shoulders.

″Not ready to ruin your playboy rep?” I waggle my eyebrows.

″It’s not that.” He shakes his head, an almost pained look on his face. “It’s that it won’t be just us anymore. This town is too curious to leave us be, and I want you all to myself.”

If we were anywhere else, I’d find this weird, a lame excuse to keep me as some sort of dirty secret. Given the quirks of a small town, I think I know what he’s saying.

″What are you asking?” My whisper comes out husky, making his eyes flare with desire.

″Come home with me? We could order dinner and just hang out.”

″What if I cook? It’s probably my turn, since you made dinner the last time we ate together.” I do my damndest to look at his eyes and not his mouth, so I’m not tempted to capture it again.

″Frozen pizzas count as making you dinner?” He seems amused by the idea. “All I did was turn on the oven.”

″You still fed me. Now, it’s my turn to feed you.” I let my fingers slide from his chest to his stomach, and it’s only after I see the mischievous smile on his lips that I realize the alternate interpretation of my words. But instead of being embarrassed by it, I’m intrigued.Turned on.

We stop by Cade’s long enough for him to shower and change, then head back to my house so I can cook dinner. I get out all the ingredients for spaghetti with meat sauce and a side salad, then set a pot of water to boil while I brown the meat.

I’ve never been so grateful for my mother’s cooking lessons in my life.

″What can I do?” Cade asks.

″Chop vegetables for the salad?” I hand him a cutting board.

Cade gets to work dicing peppers and tomatoes while I stir the sauce. We work together silently for a few minutes before he abruptly stills. “I forgot to get wine.”

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