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She moves fast, pouncing on me and slamming her mouth against mine. “You’re a terrible host,” she punctuates between desperate kisses.
“And you're a fucking incredible one.” I laugh, taking the stairs two at a time. We have all the time in the world to look around the house. The impact of her body thumping into my chest is cathartic. Like a wave crashing against the shore, only I soak it into my skin. Swallow her whole. Cupping her face, I hold her out of reach, separating our lips as I enter our room. My eyes hold, and I can see the same relief in hers.
We came out the other side, no matter the pain.
“I know.” She smiles. “I know.” My breath shudders out as I keep my emotions in check.
“Words, Lauren.”
Soft lips sweep across mine. “I love you.”
I want to pinch myself. All those nights, lost and angry. Days where I felt helpless and full of fucking rage, and she stepped into my life like a beam of light and cut right through me. Then it became about the hours—how many until I could see her, how few before we had to part ways and keep hiding—how many until she could forgive me.
Too many hours lost waiting to get her back and not nearly enough left to love her.
But she’s here. My girl. Home.
“I love you too, pretty girl.”
THE END.
Epilogue
Lauren
“Have you seen my cream bikini, the one with the gold ties?” I call out to Cain as I pick up a towel and a pair of his shorts in search of it. He steps out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, and holds it up for me. “Koh Samui me is messy.” I grimace and cross the room to him.
“You’re messy back home.” He smirks, dipping to drop a kiss on my forehead. I pull back to disagree, but he pinches my chin lightly and lifts his brow. “No? There is foundation smudged on the carpet in several places, you leave sugar after making a drink, and if I find another hairpin, I could start selling them,” he drawls when I pout.
“Okay, I'm messy,” I concede, and his grin turns devious. He takes a step back and looks down at me, standing only in knickers, and runs a finger to trace along the seam resting against my stomach.
“Koh Samui you is fucking gorgeous.”
“Stop. We’re meeting everyone for breakfast. I can hear it being set up on the decking.” I lay a palm on his bare chest, but Cain pushes against it, challenging the resistance in my arm. My wrist folds back lightly, and he grunts under his breath, his eyes flickering with heat. “Cain,” I warn.
“You’d better be quiet then,” he counters, knocking his towel away and stepping out of the fluffy heap at his feet. “Better make sure you’re a good girl for me and let me swallow those moans.”
He’s rock hard, and I don’t mistake the way he flexes his fist to stop from reaching for me already.
“Perry will be here any second.”
“He’s learnt to knock,” Cain muses, his lips twisting to fight a wolfish grin. He steps forward, so I take another back—forward, then back until my calves brush the bed, and I'm lowering to the mattress, Cain looming over me. His finger hooks under the front of my knickers, granting him space to slide his hand in and twist it, and he moves to massage my clit, causing me to grip his arms for support. “Shush.”
“We both know I can’t be quiet,” I spit, darting a look towards the curtain-covered doors leading out onto the private decking by the pool.
“Then they’ll definitely know to knock,” he groans. He swoops down and kisses me hard and with purpose. His fingers dip between my legs and slip inside. My first moan is low and sweet, my face twisting in pleasure. “You look so good when you're aroused, pretty girl, half pain, half pleasure.” He spanks my pussy and drives two fingers back in, and my second moan slips out in a surprised cry. My stomach flutters, and I know it’s not just down to the man primed above me, hard and ready. I bite my lip and fight the urge to blurt out my little secret. He’ll be mad as hell for not telling him. Mad and madly in love.
I reach to cup his cheek, and Cain frowns, taking my hand and holding it. “What?” He’s worried. His frown line deepens, and I rock my hips, chasing the orgasm I can feel pebbling my skin from the inside out. A low thrumming ache that is rolling through me in deep, long, slow waves.
“Don’t stop.”
“You’re worried. I can tell.” He makes to move away, but I grip his hand and hold it still, riding his fingers.
“After, please,” I beg him to continue, and he does until I'm wordlessly crying out and holding him to my chest.
“Lauren, what's wrong?”
“Nothing, it—”
