Page 72 of Crossed

This is all that it can ever be. I’m with Parker now, and I need tostaywith him to make sure Quinten and I are safe.

And Cade doesn’t belong to me. And after what he’s said, I’m not sure I’d want him to.

But I’ll take this moment, just for me.

My thighs tense as I slide my hand back down to my clit, starting a slow, torturous circle, enough to ramp me up and keep me just beneath my peak.

His head cranes to the side, and I think maybe he’s checking his surroundings before his attention is back on me, his arm moving to the front of his pants.

My stomach flips when he unbuckles his belt.

My breathing stutters when he pulls down the zipper.

Wetness leaks from me, making a mess on the insides of my thighs when Cade pulls out his hard cock and glides his gloved hand slowly up the length. The dim, yellow streetlight hits him just enough to let me see his movement without allowing me to take in any details, and I ache to get a better look.

I want to watch the vein on the underside of his shaft thicken and pulse as he works himself up and down. I need to see the moment his balls tighten and draw up inside him, making him grow even harder, signaling he’s about to come. I want to take in the way his head tilts back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows around the blinding pleasure.

My fingers dip back inside me with urgency, and I lock my eyes on the speed of his arm, matching his rhythm. It might be my own hand making the motions, but it’sCadewho’s going to make me come. It’sCade’sname slipping off my lips as I explode into a thousand pieces.

Cade. Cade. Cade.

The filthiness of him creeping outside my window when he should be at the church, of himtouchinghimself while he watches me, is too much, and my muscles coil tight, white heat growing like an inferno between my legs and bursting through my limbs. My mouth parts on a silent gasp, and I throw my head back, slamming my eyelids closed as I grind my pulsing clit into my palm harshly, dragging out the orgasm.

When I open my eyes, sated and spent, he’s gone.

I lie in bed the next morning for a long time, trying like hell to come to terms with what happened the night before and with what my life will be like going forward. I search for the guilt or the disgust at knowing I had a man peering in my windows, but all I feel is a sense of security that wasn’t there the night before. Like I’m in control for the first time. Iknowsomething about Father Cade, something that he can’t barter or steal back.

Everyone already thinks the worst of me, but if people were to find out about him…

My momentary feeling of power is doused quickly when I realize that Idoactually have something to lose now. If Parker finds out, then he’ll no doubt abandon me, leaving me to fight against a potential murder charge on my own and leaving Quinten without someone who can care for him.

Which is why I’ve decided that ignoring it entirely is best. I’ll see Cade again at some point, most likely sooner rather than later, and I’ll just have to pretend that nothing is different. That he’s nothing and no one. Just bland paper on the wall, blending in with the scenery.

The rest of the week moves by slowly. I put off telling Quinten about my upcoming nuptials, and I meet two more times with my new lawyer, Jason. I watch the news every single day, like I can’t wait for Andrew’s murder to drop, but it’s still silence.

I don’t know why I’m surprised. Jason told me the authorities were keeping it quiet, not wanting to cause upheaval in the area.

And then at night, I sit and I wait, my insides tense with anticipation to see if Cade will show.

He always does.

Watching me like it’s his God- given right to do so.

And now it’s Sunday, and a town car’s just picked me up, right after I’ve set Quinten up with Dalia for the morning and dressed in a muted green long-sleeve dress. It’s a little tight around my middle and a little low on the top, but it’s the most modest outfit I have that’s appropriate enough to be seen in church.

Parker made it very clear he expected me there this morning, and while I thought about bringing Quinten along, I can’t imagine he’d do well in a long service where he’s expected to conform to what everyone else is doing.

Sliding into the car, I beam at Parker, part of me worried he’ll be able to look at me andseewhat’s been happening late at night for the past week straight.

“Hello,fiancé,” I say, trying to lay it on thick.

He leans across the seats and presses a chaste kiss to my cheek before pulling back, his eyes scanning my outfit as he slips the phone that he’s always on back in his pocket.

“We’ll need to get you a new wardrobe.”

I rear back. “I’m sorry, what?”

He waves his hand up and down my form. “This is too risqué. You’ll be lucky if they let you step foot in the cathedral, looking like a done-up whore. That was your mother’s job, not my wife’s.”