Four Seconds to Lose

painfully. I don’t know how to answer, so I settle on, “Yes. I’m glad I’m here, too,” because there’s nothing more true than that.

That naturally furrowed brow creases further. “Did what happened last night bother you? Look . . .” I see the muscles in his jaw tense as he breaks eye contact, his gaze searching the water in front of us. “I know I can be really intense sometimes. And impatient. And maybe letting that happen out on a pier was less than ideal for you.” Dark eyes flash to me. “Sometimes I’m less inhibited, when I’m not thinking straight.” A hand lifts to play with a strand of my hair. “Maybe we should dial things back.”

What? I feel the scowl form on my face. No! Slow things down? When that damn clock keeps ticking away? No! No! No!

He goes on, seemingly unaware of my internal panic. “I warned you that I don’t know how to do this. Still —”

Cain’s words die with a hiss the second I peel down the front of his trunks and grasp him tightly. He was already hard. “I have no desire to slow things down,” I say evenly, holding his gaze as I begin stroking him.

He locks a steely gaze on me and I start to think I might have gone too far. But I don’t stop. “Thank fucking God,” he finally mutters, reaching down to pull my hand away from him with a chuckle. “But I don’t think Storm will appreciate that in here.” After a pause, he adds with mock seriousness, “Besides, I thought you preferred privacy.”

“And I thought you didn’t like wasting time,” I throw back and then shrug. “Maybe that was payback for the spectacle you made of me on the pier.”

A raised brow is the only warning I get before my body is being moved, sliding off Cain’s lap to land on the built-in seat, my back to the others and Cain’s body between my legs, his knees bent and propping my thighs up, a wicked grin on his face. “You want a spectacle?” His eyes drift down over my vulnerable frame, easily visible beneath the water now that the jets have shut off. Heated eyes come back to weigh down on me, ideas circulating within them that I can’t decipher but that make my body open up to him with anticipation. “You think I deserve payback? How about payback for the last three weeks?”

I snort. “What, are you going to pole dance on your stage for me tonight?” A visual slams into my mind and, despite how unbelievably masculine and striking Cain is, I can’t help but burst out laughing.

Water starts splashing my face. “Stop!” I hold my hands up in defense, trying to protect myself through my continued fit of laughter. “All my makeup will streak!”

“Good,” he throws back, his smile turning tender, his voice turning unbearably soft. “Then I’d get to see the real Charlie.”

My laughter cuts off abruptly as I break from his eye contact. Oh, Cain . . . the deception is so much deeper than eyeliner and tinted contacts.

“Charlie?”

I struggle for a deep breath as I look up at him, risking a whispered question. “What if you don’t like what you see?”

There’s a long pause, where his serious eyes explore mine and I know he’s searching for some truth, some reason for my fear, and then his hand slides behind my neck. “I don’t care what you’ve done, Charlie. You should know that. Whatever you’ve been involved in to get by is in the past. Whatever your parents may have done. You’re safe here and you can start fresh. Your slate is clean with me.”

I believe him. If only it truly were in the past.

He closes his mouth over mine in a devastating kiss, wrenching the breath right out of my lungs.

From somewhere behind us, far away from this euphoric cloud I’m sinking into quickly, I hear Ben’s voice suddenly boom. “When the fuck did that happen?”

* * *

“To my lovely husband-to-be.” Storm stands with glass of milk raised as sparklers dance over the cake on the table in front of me. “I’m so proud of you for chasing your dreams and for choosing a noble path catching scumbags, even when the path of luxury is easier and more appealing. Congratulations on becoming Special Agent Dan Ryder!”

Everyone lets out a cheer, including me, though I’m betting mine is the only one laced with gut-wrenching shame.

I wave away a slice of cake and quietly excuse myself to use the bathroom, grabbing my things on the way, in order to change. Nate and Ginger went ahead to open the bar but Cain held me back, so I’m basically at his mercy. Not that I’m complaining about that, though I’d rather be at his mercy elsewhere.

“Charlie?” Speak of the devil . . . I turn back to find Cain following me inside the house, his eyes on my ass before snapping back to my face. I don’t know if he’s just stealing those looks now or if he always was and made more of an effort to be covert about it. “What are you doing?”

“Just getting changed. Why?”

As he reaches me, I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. One hand lifts to settle on my shoulder, his thumb rubbing over it soothingly. “You were playing with your fingertips.”

What? My face must say it all, because he smirks. “When you’re nervous, you play with your fingertips. Not dramatically, but . . . I’ve noticed.” A serious frown passes over his features. “What made you nervous?”

Damn perceptive man. “Nothing. I’m just not looking forward to a night of serving drinks.” Trying to play off his worry, I joke, “I’m tired. Someone kept me up all night.”

After a long pause, a smile creeps along his lips. He lets his eyes rake over my body. “That’s too bad. I was hoping you’d let me keep you up tonight, but . . .”

I rest my hand on my hips and school my face to seriousness. Meanwhile, excitement crawls along my skin like a quickly spreading flame. Another whole night with Cain. Just the idea is enough to weaken my knees. “Are you teasing me?”

His mouth twists with thought before he shrugs. “It’s a nice change from the usual, wouldn’t you agree?”

“What about the bar? Will Ginger be okay without me there?”

His eyes roll in response. I know it was as stupid question. Ginger was doing just fine before I got there. They probably don’t even need three bartenders. As if to prove a point, he dips his head, his breath leaving a trail along the curve of my neck before he presses his mouth against my ear and whispers, “Do you really care?”

“No.” Oh God. I sound all breathless and needy. Clearing my throat to force some composure into my voice, I add, “What will my boss say?” It’s too easy to slip into this playful role with Cain.

Gripping my bare waist tightly, Cain settles a mock frown on me. “I’ve heard he can be quite the asshole sometimes.”

I let a moment of silence slip, but then it becomes too much. “Okay.” I hear the surrender in my own voice. Just like that, my need for money, what my future looks like, my various dilemmas . . . all are inconsequential next to time with Cain, yet again.

He removes his hands from my body and takes several intentional steps backward, until his back hits a nearby wall, as he attempts a discreet adjustment of himself. “You should get changed so we can get out of here. Now.”

And I smile. I know for a fact, by the gentle nudges and hugs, that Cain has been at least semi-hard since the pool. Maybe even since I walked into Dan’s den. Now, he’s struggling to control himself. I probably shouldn’t enjoy it as much as I do. But I am enjoying it. Immensely. It’s an instant adrenaline rush.

Maybe I’m an adrenaline junkie.

On playful impulse, I turn and swagger into the bathroom, making sure to sway my hips because I know Cain is watching. Sure enough, a glance over my shoulder confirms his eyes cast downward, his lips parted slightly.

He remains still, his body rigid, as I make my way into the open bathroom. “Did you need anything else?” I reach back to pull the strings, releasing my bikini top from my body. His eyes widen a second before I toss the