The Summer He Came Home (Bad Boys of Crystal Lake 1)

They moved together, a sensual shuffle of fluid limbs, straining muscles, and a constant need that was a physical ache. The music was hypnotic: sex and candy rolled into one hell of an erotic number. Cain’s mouth slid down her neck, and the world fell away. In her mind there was no one but him.

His lips skated across hers, and he whispered hoarsely, “Let’s get out of here.”

Suddenly Maggie froze as Bradley Hayes’s words echoed in her mind. What the hell was she doing? Could her heart afford for her to be so selfish?

“What are we doing, Cain?” She stopped dancing, and the two of them stared at each other while all around them bodies moved and slid and touched in the near dark. She licked her lips nervously.

Cain’s hands crept up to cradle her cheeks, his eyes intense and passion filled as he gazed down at her. “What are you afraid of, Maggie?”

“Nothing.” Everything.

“Are you sure?”

She glanced up at him and her heart lurched. His dark eyes studied her intently. She saw his hunger, his desire, his need…for her. In that moment she made a decision. One she prayed she wouldn’t regret. Maggie leaned into his hands as her own crept up, and she threaded her fingers through his.

“I’m not sure about anything,” she whispered.

He bent low until his forehead touched hers. “You can be sure of one thing.”

“What’s that?” His hands were on her ass now, and he held her tight to his hips, his erection resting against her belly.

“You can be sure that I’m going to make you whimper and beg for”—he ground his groin against her, and the ache between the folds of her sex intensified—“this.” He was breathing hard now. “You ready?”

She was so not ready for any of this, but the devil who sat on one of her shoulders took over, and her fear was silenced.

Maggie nodded, and the two of them turned and left without saying good-bye to anyone.

Chapter 24

Cain shifted beside Maggie and didn’t take his eyes from her. He cradled her close, enjoying the warmth of her body and the feel of her in his arms. She was relaxed, had been thoroughly loved more than once, but still a soft frown settled between her eyebrows.

Like the previous night, she’d tossed and turned, mumbled things he couldn’t understand. He knew she was holding back the part of her that was scared, and even though he wanted her to let him in, he was afraid to push. She needed to come around on her own. She needed to learn to trust him with her secrets.

He sure as hell didn’t like it, and every time he thought of the bastard who’d dared to touch her, he was filled with impotent rage. What he wouldn’t give for a chance at this guy’s ass.

He’d been sleeping at her house ever since Jack’s Hut, and that was a few weeks ago. Hell, after that first night together there was no way he was going to sleep anywhere else. They’d fallen into a kind of relationship he couldn’t define—one based on the physical, but there was an ease to the way they reacted to each other. They spent every minute together that they could, and he was more than a little embarrassed to admit that he’d become that guy—the one that sneaked out of her house under cover of night. Like a damn criminal.

Shit, if the guys in the band could see him now. He’d been reduced to skulking around like some horny teenager afraid to get caught with his pants down.

Maggie sighed and nestled deeper into his arms as he pushed back the hair at her temple. He didn’t care. It was worth it.

The window was open, and he inhaled the fresh, cool air that blew in on the breeze. The smell of fresh-cut grass still lingered. Mowing the lawn was a chore he’d been more than happy to do and one that had pissed off Luke Jansen something fierce. Especially when he tossed the shit his dog left behind back onto Luke’s lawn.

He stretched and settled against her softness, content and happy. The sun was making its way upward, and early-morning gray illuminated Maggie’s bedroom.

The clock beside her bed glowed 5:30, and he knew it was time for him to leave. While Michael was an early riser, usually up before seven, this morning Cain was headed to Detroit, and if he wanted to beat traffic, he needed to be on the road by six. Dax Jones, his bass guitarist in BlackRock, had agreed to participate in the fundraiser on July Fourth. His flight from the United Kingdom was due to arrive this morning.

“You’re awake,” Maggie murmured against him. Her arms crept across his chest. Sleep clung to her eyes, their blue depths mysterious and sexy as she looked up at him. “I don’t want you t

o leave.”

He kissed her nose and shifted once more. “Trust me. The last thing I want to do is get out of this bed, but Michael will be up soon, and I’ve got to get my ass in gear and head to the airport.” The silky skin beneath her eyes was smudged, light bruises that signaled either a lack of sleep or something else entirely. “Are you okay? You didn’t sleep well last night.”

She glanced away, and unease slid through him as he continued to study her. She picked at the blanket, her elegant fingers nervous. Something was up.

“I’m fine, I just…”

“Just what?”