Caine suddenly leaned into me, clearly forgetting where we were and that we had an audience. “I saw you weren’t doing much to dissuade him.”
I looked pointedly over my shoulder, silently reminding him where we were.
He pulled back, his jaw clenched as he stared forward again.
I edged close enough to him so he would hear me without anyone else overhearing. “I wasn’t encouraging him, and honestly this whole possessive bullshit is pissing me off.”
Caine threw me a cutting look, but I refused to be intimidated. “I’m not the only one who gets jealous,” he reminded me.
“No, you’re not. And do you know why we’re acting like crazy people? Because you’re not willing to give the whole ‘friends’ part of our deal a real shot. There is uncertainty between us because you keep throwing up this wall.” I looked over my shoulder again, double-checking that no one was near us. My gaze returned to meet his. No more games. No more tactics. Honesty. It was all I had left. “This isn’t just sex, Caine. This is an affair.” I held my hand up to stop his coming protest. “I’m not suggesting permanency. I’m suggesting that you admit that there’s a difference in what we’re doing here. We aren’t two people who just have sex now and then. There are feelings here whether we want to admit it or not. I’m not asking for forever. I’m asking you to stop pushing me away. I’m asking you to be real with me for however long this lasts.”
His eyes blazed. “And if I don’t?”
My knees trembled. “Then I think we should end it.”
He exhaled and looked away again.
Time to be even braver. “I don’t want to end it. I don’t think you do either.”
“And what makes you think that?” he drawled lazily, and I almost believed his indifference.
Almost.
“We’re not done with each other.”
After a few seconds Caine looked at me again and I saw the heat and longing in his eyes. “No, we’re not.” We held each other’s gaze for a few moments and that burn of desire started to pool low in my belly. “So, what exactly do you suggest, Lexie?”
I smiled slowly. “Spend the day with me.”
He blinked in surprise. “Spend the day with you?”
“Anywhere I choose. Spend the day with me and just be my friend for a few hours. Afterward I promise to bang your brains out.” I grinned.
Caine considered my suggestion and then chuckled before looking back out at the game. “Deal.”
CHAPTER 18
My toes sank into the sand and a gentle breeze from the ocean cooled my cheeks against the hot summer sun.
“Was this what you had in mind?” Caine broke the silence, throwing me a small smile.
I returned that smile. “Maybe.”
True to his word, Caine had given me Sunday. All of Sunday. To be friends. To hang out. I’d chosen Good Harbor Beach in Rockport as our hangout destination. Although Caine was surprised by my choice, I think he was secretly pleased. He owned a dark blue Vanquish Volante that he only drove around the city when he didn’t need his company driver, which wasn’t often. Good Harbor was a little over an hour away, which gave him the excuse to stretch the Aston Martin’s sleek lines.
I had to admit it was fun riding shotgun.
When we’d arrived Caine had parked near the beach, oblivious of the men and women who were drooling over his car as we got out of it. He was too intent on me. I think he was trying to understand what I really wanted from him.
Standing on the beach, his shoes and socks dangling from one hand while his other arm rested lightly around my waist, he said, “Why Good Harbor?”
I shivered at the question, feeling the breeze cool my body even more as it slid across my arms. “I like it here. The only vacation I ever remember taking when it was just Mom and me was here.” I looked out at the water, pain slicing through me at the memories. It was funny, but for once I welcomed that pain over the frustrated anguish that wrecked me when I remembered my life with my mother in my adult years. “Back then my whole world revolved around her.” I glanced up at him, wondering how he’d react if I mentioned my father. Deciding today was a day for pushing all limits, I stepped into the quagmire that was our shared history. “My father visited on my birthday every year and he stayed a few days. I thought there was no one quite like him, and my mum helped create that idea. She filled my head with all these romantic notions about him. He was like a fairy-tale character, a relief from real life. My mom … well, she was the real deal. My entire happiness depended on her.
“We didn’t have a lot, but it didn’t matter because she made me feel safe and loved. We had more than we should have, though.”
“Your father?” Caine deduced.
I looked up at him, searching his face for a reaction to our conversation. He seemed contemplative, not agitated like I’d half expected him to be. “Yes. He gave my mom money.”
“And Good Harbor? Your mother lived in Connecticut. I find it more than coincidental that your only vacation with her was in Good Harbor … near your father.”
I smirked unhappily. “She grew up in Boston, so this place was familiar to her, but … yeah, my father showed up toward the end of our vacation. Before he turned up, my mom and I spent every day on the beach.” I smiled. “It was heaven. We goofed around and just hung out. My mom never spoke to me like I was a little kid, you know. She had actual conversations with me.
“Her parents died when she was a baby and her aunt raised her in Boston. She told me this story about when she was a little girl. One summer her aunt took her to Good Harbor. My mom told me that her aunt had to take her home from the beach and she refused to go back. When I asked why, she said that there was a little boy there and he kept jabbing this stick into an injured seagull. My mom got really upset and so her aunt asked the little boy why he was tormenting the bird. And he said that a seagull had swooped down and taken his last piece of fried dough the day before. He’d found this injured one and decided it just might be the offending seagull. So while it was hurt, he was exacting his little-boy vengeance. My mom said to the little boy that he should forgive and let the poor creature alone, and his answer was to jab at it even harder. My mom burst into tears and her aunt took her away. Mom refused to go back to the beach.
“I don’t even know why she told me that story … but I remember it sticking with me for a while.” I blinked back the burn of tears. “Now I can’t seem to get it out of my head.”