"Do you care about a lot of people?"
"I can count on one hand how many people I truly care about."
"And who are those people?"
"My mother. Your father, of course. Mindy, your mom. My sister, Loralei…" He paused, eyes sparkling as he looked down at me. "And you."
I was relieved when he didn't say Kelly's name. More than relieved actually. Apparently I was more important to him than she was. Or maybe he didn't love her. Still a good sign to me.
It was then I realized how close our faces were, how hard I was pressed against his solid body. My arm was still on his lap, my hand close to his groin. He looked down at where my hand was, like he'd noticed too, but didn’t want to mention it.
I squeezed the hem of his shirt, my head still tilted up. I should have moved away, but I couldn't. That drink was chasing away all of my inhibitions, making me want to attempt something bold.
"I'm glad to know you care about me," I whispered. I leaned in more, until our lips were a hairsbreadth away. His eyes were on my mouth, his grip tightening on my waist, probably without even realizing it. My pulse skittered, but I leaned in more, until his lips created a feathery-light sensation on top of mine.
"Kandy," he warned.
"What?"
"No." A solid command that couldn’t be mistaken.
I never liked being told no, though. Maybe he was right about the whole brat thing. I could act like a spoiled little girl when I wanted to. I liked things to go my way, and sometimes that made me pesky and infuriating.
I slid my hand down, running it over the bulge in his pants anyway. I moved it over the denim, shifting it back up gradually. I felt him getting harder, his breaths unsteady now, body tensing.
"Kandy," he said, but this time it wasn't a warning. It was a plea.
"Should I stop?" I asked, my voice so low I could hardly hear it myself.
He didn't answer—only stared down at me with intense, hungry, smoky eyes. I kept moving my hand up and down on his groin, pressing in more and more, making sure my breasts were completely pushed against him.
"You know damn well you should stop," he mumbled on my mouth, but I felt his grip get even tighter around me, like he was saying one thing, but thinking the complete opposite.
I pressed my hand down again, getting a better feel of the thick, hard ridge resting on the inside of his thigh.
I couldn't help myself. I couldn't stop. I couldn't believe this was happening, and I refused to pass this chance up.
Quinton Cane was hard for me, and I wanted him. Bad.
10
KANDY
Without giving it much thought, I pressed my lips on his, and climbed on top of his lap, deepening the kiss. His lips were soft and smooth, just like I’d imagined they would be.
His body tensed up again, and a guttural groan filled the back of his throat. He was straining in his jeans, rock solid.
He broke the kiss, pressing a hand against my shoulder to push me back. He frowned at me, eyes hard and intense as he tore himself away. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he snapped through a raspy voice.
"Nothing is wrong with me.” I smashed my lips together, focused on his mouth, wanting another illicit taste.
"Fuck," he cursed. He watched me longer. "Why are you doing this to me, Kandy?"
"What am I doing?" I whispered.
"You're making me want you."
"You want me?"
"Yes, I fucking want you, and I hate that I'm even admitting it."
My heart caught speed, and I climbed off his lap to sit beside him again, but fisted his shirt in my hands. "Cane, please. Don’t treat me like a kid tonight, okay?"
His head shook, his self-control slowly but surely slipping away. I slid closer to him, running my hand over the hard rock in his pants like I did before. His eyes fell down and locked on my mouth. I kept rubbing him, feeling his cock twitch through the jean and beneath my palm. Our lips moved closer. I wanted him so bad I couldn't think straight.
Grabbing my face between his fingers, he tilted my chin, looking me all over with a searing-hot gaze. He exhaled raggedly, the tip of his nose running down my jawline and then back up, over my cheek and then the arch of my nose. He sighed and groaned, bringing his mouth down, closer to mine.
He paused, hesitated, hardly breathing.
I wasn't breathing either. Not much. How could I? Cane—my Cane—was touching me the way I’d always wanted him to. I didn’t want to make any sudden moves, fearing he would stop if I did.
Just when I thought he would pull away, he brought my face closer to his, fulfilling the ache. He crushed my lips with his and pressed his body to mine.