Don't Let Me Fall

Chapter 8

Turns out 'later', in Caden's mind, means forgetting to lock the front door and so dragging me all the way back to the house as an excuse to get away. 

Our trek through the woodlands is dangerously quiet, as though any second a bomb could erupt and deafen us for life. 

I don't fail to notice the flickering muscle in his jaw as he looks back at me every five seconds, nor do I miss the way his fingers trail across my thigh as he helps me climb over a fallen tree.

"So..are you gonna talk?" I poke at him, probing for anything to break the tense silence. 

"Eventually. "he replies, his answer causing my eyes to roll backwards in frustration as yet another tree trunk blocks my path.

Hefting my leg over with an inhale of much-needed air, I look up to see him watching me struggle. His gaze roams over the awkward angle of my leg, following the circle my lips have formed before halting at my eyes. Questioning. Waiting.

God, I hated him. He knew I needed his help. 

"Well?," I started, lowering my gaze in absolute embarrassment, "Help a girl out?"

His hands are on me in no less than two seconds, supporting the entirety of my body weight as he fits his fingers around the exposed skin of my waist. 

Heat flares at his touch; a shocked, flustered gasp escapes my mouth before I can stop it. 

My feet hit the floor with a solid crunch; his chuckle is all I hear before he's letting go of me, stealing the flames away and leaving me to follow in his wake. 

 My mind was just starting to wonder how close we were to the house when he stopped, spinning towards me with an intensity in his eyes I'd never been subject to before. 

"Look, Meg," he began, exhaling my name in an agonizingly slow breath, "I need you to tell me what's going on. I need you to open up to me."

Five seconds passed before his words landed on my ears, and I was shaking my head, determined to push away his concern, "I'm fine, Caden. Really. I'm fine."

The line was so well-rehearsed, I almost believed myself. 

Unable to bear the incessant stare he had me trapped under, I walked past him, strolling straight down the path and trying to take in deep breaths to slow my pumping heart down. 

But my methodical breathing was cut short when a familiar calloused hand gripped my wrist, tugging me backwards with ease until my spine was resting against the toughened bark of a tree. 

All of a sudden, it wasn't the smell of leaves and oak and dirt that I was breathing in. 

It was him. 

Flooding my senses with a sweet, sugary taste that reminded me of the pastries he'd brought to my room all those weeks ago. 

His tongue was sliding over mine, his lips pulling and sucking until I could feel my own swelling up in response, reciprocating his obvious demand for more.

His hands were everywhere all at once - gripping my wrists behind my back, above my head, as he continued his pursuit. Trailing the skin along my forearms, hooking the waistband of my pants, slowly...ever so slowly crawling up my electric spine. 

His mouth had moved away from my own, in search of other places to explore - other spots of soft skin hidden behind my ear, down my neck, below the collarbone I knew would be marred with red spots come the morning time. 

He pulled away, eyes roving over my body with glazed desire as he whispered, "I've been wanting to do that since I walked in on you that first night."