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“Say you’ll come back to London with me?”
Chapter37
Lauren
“Say you’ll come back to London with me?” Cain’s deep voice fans across the back of my neck, a teasing lilt disguising the desperation glowing from his eyes I witnessed just moments ago. He steps away and moves towards the industrial-style fridge. The physical distance only reinforces the bombshell he dropped when I arrived. He’s going to leave. After all his efforts to close that distance between us, to break company policy and put us both at risk, he’s taking a step back. Physically and mentally. Opening up the void to allow me to make the decision. This isn’t a game of push and pull. There is a defined line that I’ve drawn, and he is crossing over to the other side and ensuring I do the work to pull us back in.
For all his reassurance, for the grandeur of his gesture, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m about to let the best thing walk away from me.
I’ve known too much betrayal in the last few months, and rather than follow my gut instinct where this man was concerned, I allowed my fears and past traumas to manifest into punishment. I’m punishing us both. He hurt me, and I can't shy away from that. I don't think I will ever agree with how he decided to leave, but I understand why. I understand, and I accept we can’t change it. It’s a kind of pain I would accept to protect him, and I’ve spent many nights trawling through my thoughts and feelings to realise that his leaving hurt him too.
I’ve been so lost in my own pain that I didn't take the time to see that he is suffering greatly. He looks worn out, scared, and it’s the same fear I saw in his eyes at the hospital. He’s scared to lose me in a different way.
No one’s ever looked at me that way, either. No man has loved me so passionately. So utterly devoted to my safety. My heart weeps for the hurt I've caused him—for pushing him away when he really did have my best interests at heart, even if it broke him to leave.
I watch his broad back as he fills out the fridge door and the slow, controlled breaths he takes, and I know I don’t want another moment without him—another day apart. I don’t want to roll over in my childhood bed, aching for the comfort of his arms or the solid wall of his chest to radiate heat into my back as he whispers gruffly in my ear. I want to come home from work and walk into a home that has him in it. To consider him when I'm out grocery shopping. I want the little things that no one cares about. The little moments that evoke those deep fuzzy feelings I only ever felt with Cain. I want to hear a stranger mention a word in passing and find myself drawn to a memory of this man because no matter who I’m with or where I am; he is always in the back of my mind. I wantthat.I want to be loved so irrevocably that he is willing to stab another knife into his own being to save it from happening to me.
“Okay,” I say, rolling my lips as his back goes still, and he slowly slides a glass bottle back on the shelf before turning slowly to look at me.
“Okay?” His eyes bore into mine—asking more questions than his rough voice ever could. The fridge door clunks shut softly, and Cain makes a move towards me, then stops, waiting, needing clarification that I am, in fact, asking to go home with him.
I nod.
“Words, Lauren,” he growls. Sucking in a small breath, I stare at his profile and feel the shift in him. That undeniable rush of dominance he exudes when he is determined to get his own way, the subtle lift of his chin, and the hard gleam in his eyes that refuses to accept anything less than what he desires. Me. His hand flexes, and I drop my gaze there, but he rams his hand in one pocket, and I can’t help but ogle him and how sexy he looks in his suit.
“Oh, pretty girl, lift those eyes before I lose control.” His voice wavers, and I lift my gaze and pin it to his as he grits his jaw tight enough to crack teeth. “Words. No noise. Just you and me. Say it.”
“I want to come home, Cain,” my voice trembles. Stored emotion overcomes me, and I lick my lips and swallow to stop from crying. Cain is at my front in record speed, tilting my face.
“Why are you crying?” He smoothes a tear into my skin, dragging his thumb down until he is running it along the plumb bow of my lip. I cup his hand, holding it still, and give him a watery smile. “Give me your pinky,” he says, holding his own up in front of my face. I twist my hand so my finger is twined around his, and he grips our digits together tightly. His wide gaze is genuine and centred on me. “I’m breaking our promise. It’s the only one I plan to break. We’re making a new one,” he delivers in a clipped and thoughtful manner.
“A new one?”
His lips quip at the edges, and he steps in to push me back into the kitchen island. “I love you. I promise to say it to you every day, even on the days when we drive each other insane and we want to throttle each other.”
“Even when you’re being a prick?” I bite into my lower lip to suppress a smirk.
“That's when you like me the most, pretty girl.” He flattens our thighs, and I feel the true meaning behind his words—his cock stabbing into my stomach signifies how much he likes that about me.
“I do.” I hum as he pulls our fingers up to his lips and dots a little kiss on my pinky. “I’m sorry,” I finally say, quietly and with complete conviction. I’m sorry for being so hard on him and degrading his character when I know he is better than Martin and Henrik—than Royce. He would never hurt me like they have.
“Lauren, we both fucked up. We hurt each other to protect ourselves. I’m glad I learned the lesson this early on. Never again,” he vows and leans in to run his lips along mine. “You’re my girl.”
“You have a new home,” I murmur into his mouth as he pecks my lips. I read that Carson Court had been returned to him. The penthouse isn’t where he will be taking me. It will be like when I arrived in London months ago—foreign and all very new to me.
“We, pretty girl.Wehave a new home. It’s waiting for you.”
My lip trembles, and I nod. “I wish you’d have let me be there to support you, to be able to celebrate your win with you.” Emotion clogs my throat.
“You did support me, but I never celebrated, Lauren. I’ve been clearing the path for you to come back. Let me take you home, and we can celebrate together.”
“I missed you,” I whisper as his hands cup my face and he kisses me sweetly. “Are we celebrating now?” I moan as he tilts my face away and runs his mouth along my jawline until he is nipping at the sensitive spot below my ear and sending a shockwave of shivers down my spine.
“We’re celebrating,” he confirms, delivering an open-mouthed kiss to my exposed neck. His teeth graze the skin, then sink in enough that I jolt and slam my palms to his chest, yelping softly. “I missed that sound.” He chuckles, licking the sensitive spot until the angry throb is calmed.
“Ouch,” I grumble, but my eyes are glowing with humour, and he soaks it up like a man starved, grinning wolfishly. “What happened to lunch?” I pout, knowing he has no intention of feeding me in the next hour.
He twists, pecks my lips, and then lowers to the floor on his knees and runs his hands up under the maxi dress I’m wearing until it’s bunched around my waist so he can access my knickers and pull them down. He chews his lip, then drops his gaze to the apex of my thighs and smirks. “You smell fucking incredible, Lauren.” Growling, he slides a palm between my legs so it is splayed over my bottom, and he can nudge me forward. I can feel the tickle of his breathing fanning over me.
