“You’re killing me, Cain Bennett! Hurry up,” she squeaks, hopping from one foot to the other.

Once we’re both safely inside the truck, I grab her by the waist and slide her across the slippery seat until we’re face to face. I gently swipe my tongue across her mouth, licking the rain from her lips. “I don’t know what you’re fussing over. I like you wet.”

My words shift the mood back where I want it, and we’re a tangle of tongues, teeth, and lips once again. It’s taking all of my willpower not to peel off each layer, unwrap the present that is Celia, and bury myself deep inside of her. But I don’t think Celia’s a pickup truck lay type of girl … well, at least not for the first go-round.

Her lips leave mine, and I grunt at the loss.

“Cain … Cain?” she whispers as she dodges my advance, much to my irritation.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Let’s go home,” she says. “I want you to take me home.”

She gives me a knowing look. At least I think I know that look. Fuck, she means what I think she means, right? My heart beating out of my chest and my dick hard enough to sculpt concrete have my mind fuzzy.

“Wait, do you mean ‘take you home’ like take … you … home?” I waggle my eyebrows and widen my eyes for emphasis, hoping she gets what I mean.

“Cain?”

“Yeah?” I ask, feeling her hand lightly graze my thigh as she moves, up, up, up and wraps her fingers around my jean-covered cock.

“Start the truck.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Say You Love Me” by Jessie Ware

Present Day

I TURN OFF the truck ignition, completely clueless as to how we actually made it to her house. My foot stayed firmly jammed onto the gas pedal as she continued to stroke me through my jeans. When the engine dies, the cab is eerily quiet, other than the constant tapping of raindrops hitting the metal roof.

Celia watches the rain through the windshield and jolts at the sound of lightning. She lays her head on my shoulder and sighs. “Grams always said thunderstorms are the heavens weeping.”

Her voice is sad, reflective. Gone is the playful girl from just moments ago. I stroke her hair and lace my fingers through hers.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think we need a good storm every once in a while. Maybe the heavens aren’t weeping—maybe storms are the angels washing it all away.”

She lifts up and meets my eyes. “Washing what away?”

“The pain.” I lick her neck before nipping her softly with my teeth. I love the way her pulse dances under my tongue. “The regret.” My lips brush over her jaw, and I run my thumb over the dampened skin. “The sorrow,” I say, before pressing my lips to hers and sucking her bottom lip. She moves to deepen the kiss, and she whimpers when I deny her. I move closer, inhaling the scent of honeysuckles and raindrops.

“Let me wash it all away, Celia.”

I’m overcome with how right this feels. Everything before this—every kiss, date, girl, all of it—was counterfeit, a cheap imitation. I run my tongue over the ridge of her earlobe.

“Yes.”

I move back to meet her eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” she whispers, sliding her hands underneath my rain-soaked shirt and dusting her fingertips across my stomach.

I can’t help but grin as I turn off the ignition and steal another kiss. “Again.”

“Yes.” She licks my upper lip. “Yes.” She whimpers as my thumb rolls over her hard nipple. “Yes, yes, yes.” She grips my cock and runs her thumb lightly over the tip.

And with that one touch, my restraint is gone. I swing open the truck door and drag her with me into the pouring rain. The splash of the raindrops nearly drowns out her giggles as I throw her over my shoulder and spank her ass. After taking entirely too much time digging through her purse for the keys and unlocking the door, I lower her to her feet and shut the door.

Silence hangs heavy in the air as we stare hungrily at each other. A roll of thunder rumbles above us. I want to live a lifetime in this moment—these precious seconds between anticipation and ecstasy. I watch Celia, clothes plastered to her tiny frame, her trembling hands curling around her neck, hunger mirrored in her eyes, and I know this is only the beginning.

“C’mere,” I say, my voice raspy with need.

She toes off her girly shoes and walks toward the hallway. She looks at me over her shoulder and smiles.

“Maybe you should follow me.” Her words are sultry and sweet at the same time … perfectly Celia.

I lose my shoes and socks at the door and unbutton my shirt when I see her sweater hit the floor. I see a furball of orange shoot across the living room and under the couch. That’s a good place for Eddie to be, because shit’s about to get R-rated up in here, if I have anything to do with it. I wouldn’t want to offend her virgin kitten eyes, old soul or not.

She turns to me when we enter her bedroom, the strap of her camisole dangling off her shoulder. Her hands curl around the bottom of her shirt, but I stop her before she pulls it over her head.

“I want to undress you.” She releases her shirt and steps back, looking me up and down. I raise my eyebrow in question and smile. “What?”

“I’ve never seen you without your shirt,” she says, licking her lips hungrily. “You’re bigger than I imagined … your chest, your arms.”

“Better to hold you with, my dear,” I say with a chuckle as I slowly pull her shirt over her head. I trace the black lace trim of her bra with the pads of my fingers and watch goose bumps erupt in my path. I tear my eyes away and smile at her. “Let’s keep up that line of thinking when I lose the jeans. Okay, Tink?”

She giggles and shakes her head at me. She traces her finger just underneath my waistband before curling her finger into my belt loop and pulling me closer. “Oh, I already know what I’m in for when you lose the jeans. Maybe I haven’t seen it, but I’ve felt it. I’m pretty sure my ass still has bruises.”

“Yeah, it does,” I say, pulling up her skirt and grabbing possessively. With one swift pull, the skirt puddles at her feet.

I slide the honeysuckle out from behind her ear. It’s damp with rain, the petals heavy with the weight. I run the wet petals down her neck, over the swell of her tits, down her belly button to the rim of her panties. Her eyes close and her tongue darts out, wetting her bottom lip. “Please,” she whispers breathlessly.

“Up on the bed, darlin’. All the way back.”

I stand at the foot of the bed and watch as she pushes back until her head hits the pillows. I toss the flower on the floor, unable to think of anything but her. She looks a little unsure of herself, her knees glued together and her hands fidgeting at her side.

“Bend your knees and open those legs for me. Wide.” She does so hesitantly, and her fingers dig into the blanket. Her eyes meet mine for approval. There’s the most delicious wet spot in the center of her pink, silk panties, and I have to unzip my jeans to relieve some of the pressure.

God, she’s fucking beautiful.

I’m on the bed in an instant, hands fisted in her hair, tongue sliding into her mouth, cock pulsing between her legs. Her body writhes against mine, meeting every stroke, thrust, and kiss with the same intensity.

“I need you, Cain,” she whispers onto my lips, and those words are the most beautiful love song I’ve ever heard.

“Where do you need me?” I travel open-mouthed kisses down the curve of her neck. I palm her beautiful tits and lick the hard nipple pushing through the fabric of her bra. Her back arches, and she moans when my teeth sink into the sensitive flesh. “Do you need me here?”