His eyes were brimming with unshed tears. And his effort to restrain them highlighted every sharp angle on his face.
“Caine?”
“Don’t,” he rasped, his eyelids closing like he was in pain. A single tear streaked from the corner of one eye.
“I’m going to hug you,” she whispered.
“Emma,” he said, his voice like it’d been scoured with sandpaper. He dropped his head into his hands.
Slowly, she crawled so that she knelt behind him. She came in close, her thighs around his hips, her arms around his stomach, her head laying on his broad back. She felt the hard outline of the holstered gun against her belly, but she didn’t care. “I’m here now, Caine. Okay?”
He didn’t answer for a long time. And she wasn’t surprised, given how hard he worked to rein in the emotion trying to break free. She felt his effort in the clenching of his stomach muscles, in the shudders wracking through his back, in the unevenness of his breathing. In the end, Emma wasn’t at all sure whether it was better that he’d fought it back, or if it would’ve been better if he’d let it out. Whatever it was.
Finally, he threaded his fingers through hers against his chest. “Do you still want my opinion?” he asked, his voice raw.
She stroked the back of his hair, noticing up close for the first time that black tattoos filled in the two most noticeable places near his hairline where scars kept his hair from growing. “Absolutely.”
“They’re all kids, so of course they’re all worthy. The Ravens work with CASA a lot so I know they’re good people. But, the LGBTQ homeless shelter. That would be my vote.”
It was personal to him, that much was clear. And that was all she needed to know. “That’s who we’ll give to, then.”
“We?”
“Yes, Caine. We.”
He heaved a breath. “Don’t you want to know why?”
“Very much,” she said, because she wanted to know everything about this man. “But only if you want to tell me.”
He didn’t respond. There were only so many reasons an organization like that might mean so much to him. Either someone he cared about could’ve benefitted from the services they offered and maybe hadn’t had the opportunity. Or he could’ve benefitted from their services himself. And if that was true, did that mean he was bi? Or another identity altogether?
She reached out, tugged her laptop closer, and pecked all her information into the donation form with one hand while she continued embracing him with the other. “The fun part is hitting the Submit button. That’s all you.”
He peered over his shoulder at her, like he was trying to see if she was for real. She nodded, and he clicked the button. The confirmation page came up with a row of kids’ beautiful smiling faces.
“You give good presents, Emma Kerry,” he finally said. How was it that he thought he wasn’t sweet again?
She smiled where she leaned against his back. “I just like trying to make people happy.”
“What other traditions do you have?” he asked, turning toward her.
“Christmas movie marathon with copious amounts of cookies and chocolate-drizzled popcorn as snacks.”
He peered up, and Jesus he was so freaking gorgeous to her. “Got any funny Christmas movies?”
She grinned. “So many funny ones. Just you wait and see.”
And if that’s what it took to make Caine happy, it was only the beginning of what she would do.
Chapter 14
Caine couldn’t remember ever laughing so much. At the movies themselves, which ranged from funny to stupid to terrible. At how much the movies made Emma laugh. At how passionate she was in defending their humorous qualities.
sAll day, she’d kept things light and playful between them as they laid on a big makeshift bed of blankets and pillows on her living room floor. They’d never stopped touching and kissing, some part of their bodies always tangled up in the other. He’d been half hard for hours but hadn’t acted on it because this kind of closeness wasn’t something he’d ever had before, either.
To say nothing of how much he’d eaten.
Emma had just filled him up, heart, mind, and fucking soul.
And after the way he’d almost shattered this morning, he’d needed every bit of her lightness. Between the connection and the sex and the gift, he’d already been overwhelmed. And then she’d shared her tradition of giving to charities. All charities for kids in need. It made sense, of course. She was a kindergarten teacher. But then she’d pulled up that website for the LGBTQ shelter and it’d been one emotional brick more than his badly crumbling inner walls could support.
He’d looked for places like that when he’d gone on the run as a fourteen-year-old. And again before he’d found ways to use his body for food and shelter as a fifteen-year-old. And again when a pimp had tried—and failed—to pressure him with intimidation and ply him with drugs to work for him as a seventeen-year-old. But places like that shelter hadn’t existed fifteen years ago, at least not where he’d grown up in small-town Ohio. And once the wrong people knew you’d shown interest in someone of the same sex, or even if there were just rumors, they’d make sure your life was a living hell if you showed up at the shelters that did exist. Beds were scarce, after all, and not everyone who wanted one got one. They made sure you learned not to even show up. So Caine had run and hitched and done whatever he needed to survive.