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“By all means, let’s watch it then,” he said in resignation. “We can talk later.”

They watched the movie as tension swirled around them, keeping their senses heightened. Finally, Cade moved from her, walking to the built-in bar at the side of the room. He poured himself a drink, mixed another for Marly, then returned to his seat. Marly had shifted back a little, her legs tucked beside her on the couch as her head lay against the back of the couch.

“Here.” Cade handed her the glass, watching as she tasted it, then sipped comfortably.

The mix of soda, gin and whisky would go down smooth, and he hoped it would help to calm her nerves. She was riding on nerves and arousal, fighting both with her inexperienced fears. He had to calm those fears. If he didn’t, he knew she would never come willingly to his arms again. And he was dying for her. He remembered the tight, hot clasp of her vagina as though it had been seconds rather than hours ago that he had thrust into it. The slick, wet heat, the torturous grip on the sensitized flesh of his erection was more pleasure than he had ever known with another woman.

The movie was finally over. As the credits rolled he checked her glass, thankful it was empty. Taking it, he set it with her wine glass on the table beside him. Narrowing his eyes, he watched as the next movie came on. He wasn’t going to make it through the night, he thought miserably. He was so hard, so horny he could barely stand it.

“Why did you call me a whore in the barn, Cade?” Her voice was thoughtful, her question shocking. Cade’s cock jerked at the remembrance of her hot mouth wrapped around it.

He turned to her, angling his body into the corner of the couch so he could watch her expression.

“Frustration. Wanting you so badly it was tearing me apart with guilt, Marly.” He shook his head at his own ignorance that day. “You pushed me too far, and I reacted out of anger.”

“Why did you stop fighting it?” She raised her eyes to his, her head tilting as she studied him. “You gave in too easy.”

He watched her, a shadow of pain and anger in his eyes.

“There’s so much you don’t know,” he said, his voice so gentle, yet so filled with bitterness it brought tears to her eyes. “So many things I can’t tell you, Marly. I wanted to protect you. That was all. Just protect you.”

“From what, Cade?” Confusion whirled inside her brain. “What would be so bad that you have to protect me from it?”

He laid his head back on the couch, staring at the ceiling in silence as she watched him. He was so strong, so broad. He exuded quiet confidence and power. He made her feel soft, feminine, aroused.

/> “I love you,” he whispered, resignation filling his voice. “You don’t know how much.”

Marly’s heart sped up, pounding furiously in her breast.

“How do you love me?” She had to know. Had to know it was the same.

“I love you so much, I want to give you everything I am, Marly. Every part of me. Even the monster I’ve fought to keep hidden.” He looked down at her, somber, sad. “Does that frighten you, baby?”

She licked her lips nervously. She could tell it was supposed to.

“No.” She shook her head warily. “I want all of you, Cade. Everything.”

“The stories you heard about me sexually,” he said darkly. “How bad did they get?”

Marly swallowed, fighting past the sudden tightening in her throat as the buzz of distant conversations filtered through her head.

“Bad,” she finally whispered, then bit her lip as his eyes darkened.

“Tell me how bad, Marly. The worse thing you’ve ever heard. How bad was it? What was it?”

She had to fight for her breath.

“You, Brock and Cade.” She could barely push the words past her lips.

His hand tangled in her hair as he shifted, facing her now on the couch, his eyes staring down at her. There was no shock in his expression. Marly saw acceptance, and she felt the tremble that suddenly wracked his body. “You don’t do that.”

He broke eye contact, his gaze going to her shoulder as his hands slowly smoothed over her arms. Bleak. His eyes went so dark, shadows and pain churning in the stormy depths until she thought she would scream out at the torment reflected there

“Something happened to us, Marly. A long time ago.” He laid his finger on her lips as she began to ask what. “Please, God, don’t ask me, just listen to me. What happened doesn’t matter. Brock and Sam won’t tell you either. Suffice to say, it was bad enough that it scarred us. Made us different, Marly.” His eyes begged her to understand the impossible.

“Different? That goes beyond different, Cade,” she whispered, feeling the calloused tip of his finger against her lips.

He took a deep, harsh breath.


Tags: Lora Leigh Men of August Erotic