You'll Think of Me by Wendi Zwaduk Page B

each surge into her tight channel, emotions chipped at the ice surrounding his heart. Between thrusts, he dipped his index finger into the liquid heat of her pussy and teased the pink rosette of her anus with her natural lube.
    She whimpered and thrust into him. “Oh, God! Cade. It feels so good. Yes.” Grinding down on his fingers, she clawed his hip with her other hand. She panted, pumping her hips against his. “I can’t breathe, but I don’t want you to stop.”
    Cade suckled her neck, leaving another mark. His heart surged within his chest. She reacted to his every touch, his every caress—like she’d been made for him. “Come with me, Melly. Go over the ragged edge into oblivion with me. You’re mine.”
    Her inner walls milked him of his seed. Tears pricked his eyes. He could get lost in the beauty of her arousal. The flush of her cheeks and her kiss-swollen lips. The way she gave him a second chance despite their rocky history.
    When he grabbed her hips harder, Melanie shuddered and writhed. Cade relaxed his grip, fearful his overenthusiastic lovemaking might hurt her. “You’re mine.”
    “Oh, my God.” She screamed and came apart in his arms.
    The warmth of her love washed over him and curled around them like a chenille blanket. She made his tattered heart feel light again and his damned knees weak. His blood pressure spiked and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. Cade followed her a few dizzying seconds later. “Fuck, yes!”
    As Melanie slumped against the knobby cloth seat, she gasped for breath. “I love you, Cade.”
    He froze. She loved him. Holy fuck. Sure, he loved her, but was it enough? Rhett’s words played in his mind. Scars don’t matter when someone loves you. Give Melanie her credit and level with her. Although he wanted to, he kept his desires quiet. Love didn’t matter if he couldn’t deal on his own.
    To hell with the demons.

Chapter Ten
     
     
     
    Melanie spent the next night with Cade, curled around him in an attempt to regain normalcy in her life. Tracker chose to snuggle down in the box of tissues tucked into the bookcase headboard of Cade’s bed. So the cat preferred unconventional sleeping arrangements. Who was she to complain?
    When Cade had left that morning, she’d pulled the covers over her head and blotted out the world. The sound of rustling plastic in the hallway tore her from sleep. She jerked awake and sat up, raking her fingers through her tangled hair.
    As she yanked the covers up to her chin, she glanced around the navy walls and sparsely furnished room. Nothing. Even the cat lay still. But then she heard the thump of footsteps down the hallway.
    An oval mirror above the dresser caught her reflection. Her hair hung in wild curls, drawing attention to the pallor of her face. Melanie ran her fingers through her tresses and sighed. She wasn’t going to win any beauty pageants in her present condition. At least she was still alive.
    As Tracker stood, stretched, then curled back up in his tissue box, Melanie’s heartbeat slowed. No need to freak. She was home.
    Safe.
    She breathed in the scent of Cade’s deodorant and favourite cologne lingering in the room. I’ll protect you. Her heart beat faster as his words penetrated her mind. The feel of his hands still tingled on her body, the taste of his kiss remained on her tongue and the warmth of his desire shrouded her mind. And to think she walked away?
    Someone knocked at the wooden door. “Mels, are you in there?”
    Rhett. Go figure.
    She looked down at her clothing….or rather, the lack of it. She wore only a lacy white camisole and matching boy shorts. Thank God she’d shut the door after her last run to the bathroom. She scooted off the bed. “Just a minute!” Not seeing anything to cover up with, she opened the door a crack. “Give me a sec to find a robe.”
    As she shut the door, Rhett chuckled from the hallway. “He doesn’t have a robe. Hell, I’m shocked he has pyjamas. Let me in. It’s not