“You still hope for the best. I know.” She felt that way with her nana. Every time she saw her, she went in hoping that this would be the time Nana would smile when she saw Kylie. Would feel real love and affection for her. Would view her as a grandchild and someone to love and not just an unhappy burden that cost money and a reminder of everything she’d lost. She knew how devastating it was to get your hopes up, only to have them dashed over and over again. “You can’t be blamed for having hope, Cade.” Her fingers brushed through his soft, soft hair. “You can be sad you want more for her than she wants for herself, but you can’t get angry that you hope she’ll change. The day we stop hoping is the day we stop caring, I think.”
He lifted his head from her shoulder and gazed into her eyes. “You sound as if you’re speaking from experience.”
“Maybe I am.” She tried to give a halfhearted little shrug. He didn’t need to know about her personal sob story. Not tonight. So it was time for a distraction. “Does this mean I can have my panties back now?”
His eyes gleamed with that wicked edge she’d seen in the janitor’s closet earlier that night. “Not a damn chance.”
FOURTEEN
Kylie existed in a state of anticipation as the limo pulled up to the same hotel as the one she’d escaped from this morning. She’d left him hanging midsex over twelve hours ago . . . and she suspected it wasn’t going to happen again.
And honestly? She wasn’t sure she wanted it to happen again.
Their interlude in the janitor’s closet had pretty much proven to her that all Cade needed to do was snap his fingers and her panties would practically melt off of her, legs springing open in eagerness for him. She wanted him more than anyone she’d ever dated in her life. It wasn’t just because the sex was great—and it was fabulous. It was that Cade made her feel . . . well, beautiful. He never looked at her with that strangely questioning look that the limo driver had given her. He never made her feel like she was the ugly one in the relationship. He always made her feel desirable and perfect at his side.
Of course, that was what made this off-and-on relationship with him difficult. Because the more she tried to push him away, the more she wanted. The more she craved.
His arms were still around her when the limo stopped, though they hadn’t spoken in several minutes. He was probably tired, she told herself. She knew she was. Her head hadn’t stopped throbbing all day, and she’d been drinking water by the gallon in an effort to wash away her hangover. The weight of her new wedding ring was still heavy on her finger, and she couldn’t resist twisting it occasionally, as if to remind herself that yes, it existed, and yes, she was married to Cade, however drunkenly spontaneous the ceremony had been.
She didn’t recall the wedding. Okay, there might have been flashes of memory that included flowers and a drive-through wedding chapel and Elvis, but that was about it. Overall, the canvas was a big blank. It probably was for him, too.
And she felt a twinge at realizing that he’d drunk-hooked-up with her twice now. It seemed like every hookup they had was buoyed by alcohol, except for the interlude in the closet from earlier. And that had been fueled by anger.
What did that mean for tonight?
Kylie kept the doubts in her head as the driver opened the limo door on her side. She got out and waited for Cade, her big purse clutched to her shoulder.
Cade got out a moment after her, and pressed a wad of cash into the driver’s hand. “Thank you, sir. We need you back here at . . .” He looked at Kylie. “What time does the tour bus pull out?”
“Ten.”
“All right. We need you back here at eight thirty,” he instructed the driver, then looked again at Kylie. “It’ll give you time to pack up your hotel room and still be on schedule to leave with the others.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, and was a little pleased when Cade’s arm went around her waist possessively. He began to steer her into the hotel.
They were silent as they went up to Cade’s suite, and she wondered which Cade he’d be in bed tonight—the ruthless man he was in the closet earlier? Or the laughing, smiling man he normally was?
But when the door shut behind them, he took Kylie’s purse from her arm and set it down on a nearby chair, then moved toward her and cupped her face.
And he began to kiss her. Softly. Sweetly. Tenderly.
It threw Kylie for a loop, and made her ache deep inside. Made her want things she couldn’t have.
“Please,” he murmured between kisses. “Let’s not argue over whether or not I get to hold you tonight. Let me just love you, Kylie. Let me touch you and lose myself in you. I need that tonight.”