Page 6 of You're All I Need

And just like that, the light, easy banter dies a hard, painful death. Hearing that word—thatnickname—causes my heart to drop to my stomach and bile to rise in my throat. It’s not just the use of that nickname either, but I hear it differently. Like nails on a chalkboard, it’s another voice calling me that name, not Caden, and it pisses me off immensely that it causes such a reaction with me still, even a year later.

“What? What’d I say?” he asks, the lightness he was carrying now replaced with a look of concern.

I force a grin and wave my hand, trying to downplay the reaction he clearly saw written on my face. “It was nothing, don’t worry about it,” I insist. “I’ll see you around, Caden.”

Just before the door closes, I hear, “I’m sorry, Adrienne. For whatever I said.”

The door shuts, cutting off any further communication and ending that particular conversation. Relief washes through me as I quickly walk to my townhouse and unlock the door. I slip inside, ignoring the urge to turn around and acknowledge him. It’s better just to keep my focus on what’s ahead of me, which right now, is a hot shower and my bed.

But even then, after crawling beneath my bedspread and burrowing into my pillow, I can still hear his voice.“Addi, you’re being ridiculous.” “Addi, why don’t you go to the gym more often? You’ve put on a few pounds.” “Addi, I’m sorry I missed your birthday dinner. I had to work late.”

A shiver sweeps through me, and not in a good way.

It wasn’t that long ago I thought I was in love. I wanted the whole forever package, tied together with a big red bow. But life doesn’t always work out the way you plan.

Sometimes, it’s better.

And right now, my life is definitely that. I live on my own, paying my bills and making decisions for myself. I’m doing what I enjoy for a living. Do I want to be a bartender for the rest of my life? Nope. But it provides me with the cash I need and the flexibility I crave. So until I actually figure out what I want to do with my life, I’ll continue on my current path.

As my nana said, I’ll keep doing me.

Speaking of “doing,” my mind shifts over to Caden. I’m certain he knows his way around the bedroom. That man screams sex. Everything from his gorgeous, rugged appearance to his cocky grin and his large hands. And believe me, I know what they say about men with large hands.

It’s true.

Large hands equal large cocks.

The problem is whether or not they know how to use it.

I’ve seen both sides of the spectrum. The thruster, who thinks fast and hard is the only way to go, and yes, while it can work, it’s not the only way to go. You need hip rolls, clit grinding, and your hands have to be willing to join the party. If you’re just going to thrust hard for three or four minutes, chances are the woman is going to be faking an orgasm just to end it.

Been there, done that.

Don’t recommend.

Then you have the other guys, who know how to use what God gave them. The ones who go over and above and add in oral. The ones who can dish it out just as good as they take, leaving you hot, sweaty, and completely spent at the end of your time together. The ones who know their way around a woman’s body and know all the right buttons to push.

Something tells me Caden is all about the attention to detail.

He’s a button pusher.

The thing about Caden is, we’re more alike than he probably realizes. I’ve heard all the rumors, the wild stories of his sexcapades. He doesn’t do relationships. Ever. He wants fun, and at the end of the night, is going to walk away, leaving both parties immensely satisfied.

Well, he’s not the only one.

I love sex. I’m not going to be shy or beat around the bush about it.But I’m not looking for a relationship. Happily ever after is a farce, a dream to sell greeting cards and engagement rings. Don’t get me wrong, it can work for some people, but for most, it’s a fantasy. I’ve fallen victim to the scheme myself in a past life, which is why I won’t touch a relationship with a ten-foot pole.

I know Caden would be more than willing to jump into bed with me, and that’s not entirely out of the question. He’s hot—super hot, really—and he oozes more sex appeal than any otherman I’ve ever known. He screams good time, and I’m certain it would be just that. But I’m enjoying the hell out of this back-and-forth banter we always seem to engage in. It’s like foreplay, and all I want to do is prolong the game. Not that I’m looking at flirting and sex as a game, but there’s something about that man that causes goosebumps to erupt across my skin every time he’s near.

Flipping to my side, I wiggle to get comfortable. There’s a heated flush kissing my skin, and I know why it’s there. It’s not the fact I haven’t had sex since I moved here. It’s the idea of having Caden in my bed. I can practically feel his large hands caressing my body, first in a light, teasing manner, before his rough, callused hands turn a little more insistent.

My own hand slides down to the V of my legs, where I seem to ache a little bit more now I’ve been thinking about Caden. My body is a live wire, electricity and desire racing through me. I slip my fingers through my wetness, zeroing in on my clit. I know how to get myself off, and with the help of gorgeous Caden front and center in my mind, it doesn’t take long at all. I imagine it’s his hand between my legs, and my release hits hard after only a couple of minutes.

I cry out, my body shaking as I ride the waves of pleasure. I lie here, letting my heart rate return to normal, still picturing the one man I can’t seem to get out of my mind all of a sudden. He’s there, like a tattoo on my brain, and the wild part is, I’m thinking about him in ways I’ve never even experienced. It’s all fantasy.

Maybe a reality someday, but today isn’t the day.

After getting up and cleaning up, I climb back into bed and get comfortable again. I turn on the television and find some trashy reality show with rich housewives arguing and fighting over trivial bullshit. It’s the background noise I crave. Back when I lived in Cincinnati, I wasn’t allowed to have the TV on. Sullivan needed pure quiet, which was difficult to get used to.

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