Page 38 of Mine To Keep (Southern Wedding)

My breathing now comes in spurts. “Come with me.” He doesn’t even give me a choice or a chance to say anything. He slides his hand into mine, my fingers holding on to his. He walks over to the other side of the room, going down a long hallway that has closed doors. The only sound I can hear is my heart beating and the soft clicking of my heels. He tries to open one door and finds it locked before moving to another door, which is also locked. “Fuck,” he mumbles before moving to the last door, and it’s open. He pulls me through the door, and I get a glimpse of the room, showing it’s a small meeting room. The lights are dim, and I see chairs set up and then nothing else because Caine stands in front of me, blocking my view. He closes the little distance between us, pushing me with my back against the wall. My hands come up to his chest, and I can feel his heart beating just as fast as mine. “Grace.” He murmurs my name in a whisper. “Fuck.” He licks his lips, and that’s the last thing I see or hear because he closes the rest of the space and his lips are on mine. The sound of my purse falling onto the floor is drowned out by the sound of our kissing.

Unlike the last time, I’m dying for his kiss. Dying to feel his lips on mine again. Dying for his tongue to fight with mine. Dying for him to consume me. His tongue slides into my mouth and it’s almost as if I forgot how good it was, or I tried to talk myself out of telling myself how good it was. I taste the tartness of the whiskey on his lips as my hands move slowly up his chest to his neck before his hands go to the side of my ribs. My back arches, hoping he moves his hands and cups my tits. I fight with his tongue, going around and around, never wanting this kiss to end.

He lets go of my lips, moving down to my neck, sucking in, then biting, then kissing. “You drive me insane.”

My eyes try to flutter open to talk to him, but with his mouth on me, all I can do is take in the feeling of him. “You drive me more insane,” I mumble as my heart tries to come out of my chest. His lips find mine again, and for the second time, I want to jump him like a monkey. I want him to pick me up and slide into me. I want him like I’ve never wanted another person in my whole life. He lets go of my lips once more, going to the other side of my neck. “I can’t get enough of you,” he declares as he pushes deeper into me, making his cock rub over my stomach. My pussy aches for his touch, wanting him to duck his legs down just a touch so he can rub it against me.

I want to say all I do is think about him. I want to say I can’t get enough of him. I want to say to take me home. Instead, I nip his jaw with my teeth, my eyes opening to stare into his bright blue ones. The eyes that haunt me during the day and then chase me all night long in my dreams. “I need you so bad,” I admit, pulling him to me to bite his lower lip. “So fucking bad.” I slide my lips onto his, my tongue slipping into his mouth as we swallow each other’s moans.

The sound of voices coming closer makes us both jump apart as if you just tossed ice water on us. But not too far, his hands never leave my hips, he grips them in his hands, making me not move. His eyes never leave mine as we hear someone right outside the door. “I think we went too far,” I hear a woman say. “It’s probably the other side.”

“We should get back,” I finally urge.

“They are probably looking for you.” He steps away from me, his hands falling off my hips.

My own hands flopping down beside me, I’m about to bend over and get my purse, but he beats me to it, holding it out for me. “Thank you,” I say, our fingers brushing each other. A shiver goes up my spine from just his fingers touching me.

“I’ll see you in there,” he states, and I nod, about to turn and walk out, but instead, I walk to him. I wipe his lips of my shiny lip gloss, which only makes him bend down again to kiss my lips.

I laugh. “I just cleaned your lips.”

He takes one more kiss from me. “If you don’t leave now, we aren’t going back in there and then we’ll be asked all sorts of questions.” Just the image of leaving with him sets my cheeks on fire. “That look isn’t helping,” he groans.

I get on my tippy-toes and kiss his neck, feeling how erratic his heart is beating. “See you out there,” I say before turning and walking out of the room. I close the door behind me, walking as fast as I can away from it before doing what I really want to do. Ask him to take me home.

eighteen

Caine

“Wasn’t last night an amazing success,” my mother declares from the other side of the table. “We should do this yearly.”

I groan at the same time Nash does. “No,” he quickly denies, “immediately no, Mom.”

The three of us sit at the table outside while my father pushes Meadow in the swing. They came over shortly after eleven this morning, and my mother prepared us all lunch, which we demolished not long ago. The only things on the table now are a couple of pieces of fruit. “We are not doing this yearly.” I reject the idea. Last night was good, but we can’t be doing this yearly. “I think maybe every five years.”

“Every five years,” my mother huffs. “Ernie,” she calls my father, “what do you think about doing a gala every single year?”

His head snaps toward us as he stops pushing Meadow. “Hillary.” All he does is say her name.

“What?” she says. “Was last night not a success?”

“Yes,” he confirms, turning back to Meadow, “but it was a success because maybe it’s our first one. Like beginner’s luck.” I roll my lips, trying not to laugh as I look over at Nash, who has his arms folded on the table’s edge and his head is looking down while his body shakes from laughing. “If we do it every year, people will be bored of it.” My mother leans back in the chair, thinking about what he is saying. “Think about all the events we go to during the year and all the times you tell me how boring they are and how annoyed you are with them.”

“Yes.” She swings her leg that crosses over her knee. “But this is different, I know how not to make it boring.”

“You didn’t even do anything for this one except foot the bill,” I remind her, leaning forward and plucking a grape from the bowl and popping it into my mouth. “Grace did all of that.”

“I thought it was a group effort.” My mother sits up straight.

“It was supposed to be, but her cousin Sofia was the event planner, and…” I trail off when Nash talks.

“It was supposed to be, but Caine pissed her off, so she was like ‘I’ll do it myself.’” Nash talks in a robot voice, then leans forward, grabbing a piece of pineapple.

“What do you mean, Caine pissed her off?” my father questions, walking up the two steps to the porch where the table is, somehow puffing out of breath.

“I was not pissing her off.” I try to defend myself as my father pulls out his chair and grabs a bottle of water.

“He was trying not to piss her off and failing miserably.” Nash leans back in his chair, one arm propped on the armrest, the other tapping the table.

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