Page 35

CHAPTER 34

BABY, I’M A GIVER

WILDER

I t’s been a damn good day.

Dusk is slipping away to evening as we stand in front of a carnival booth where I’m a couple of throws away from winning Cricket the gigantic stuffed toy I promised her. She’s watching raptly, hinged over the counter separating me from the ratty clowns lined up on platforms behind the unamused carny, and despite acting weird since the last event, Cass is on the other side smiling. She’s seen this trick before—I must have won her a hundred fire hazards just like it in high school. I wonder absently if she kept them.

Her eyes are smoldering coals and have been since the kiss.

She changed her mind. She changed her fucking mind, and all it took was that kiss and her words to keep me buzzing for hours. We haven’t had a chance to talk about anything, but we’ve been walking around the carnival, unable to keep our hands off each other. This is the longest I’ve gone without touching her, and my fingertips ache from the loss.

I knock over a clown, and Cricket yells, “Good job, Daddy! One more!”

I wink down at her and throw, knocking the last of the bozos off its stand.

Cricket goes nuts, her eyes wild and smile bordering on hysteria. She can’t even talk, she’s giggling so hard, and Cass helps her pick out her prize. Cricket’s exhausted, hence the punchiness I figure, and Paul and Patty look tired in the other direction.

When Cricket has her arms looped around the neon orange poodle and has shown it to all million of us, Patty smooths her hair.

“Well, I think it might be time for us to go.”

Cricket whines. “Why? I’m hungry though! We didn’t ride all the rides! I’m not even tired!”

Paul makes a noise. “I don’t know about that, kiddo.”

I can see a tantrum brewing and squat in front of her. “Heya, bug—it’s getting late, and y’all have an hour in the car to get home.”

“But I’m hungry!”

One side of my lips rises. “You’ve had two pretzel dogs, half a funnel cake, and an ice cream cone. I don’t think you’re hungry.”

“But we didn’t ride all the?—”

“We rode everything you’re tall enough to go on. Listen, I know you don’t want to go, but you did it all. And we’re going soon too, so you won’t miss anything.”

She’s pouting, but she doesn’t argue. “Promise?”

“Promise. C’mere. Ten second hug.” I reach for her, pulling her into my arms. This is made difficult by the stuffed poodle, but we manage.

I hug her until she sighs, softens, and eventually pulls away. Her eyes are a little glassy, and she yawns.

I try not to look smug at my rightness when I stand and say goodbye to Patty and Paul, then Cricket once more. Then Dad and Cass’s mom and aunts, all the real grown-ups done for the day. Our friends are hanging nearby and offer their farewells, and for a second, I watch my daughter leave with a twist in my chest.

A long, deep sigh unwinds it a little.

When I turn, everyone has started to head back toward the food trucks except for Cass. God, she’s gorgeous, her hair long and loose and spilling over her shoulders. She’s wearing a little yellow cardigan over a brown dress with tiny red flowers all over it. Her tights are dark brown, and the toes of her oxblood combat boots are turned into each other. The look on her face tells me everything I need to know.

I pull her into me for a kiss, but it’s too brief—Jessa calls us from ahead, and we follow them down the wide aisle of carnival games. Cass and I barely separate—her arm slips around my waist under my Jacket, and when she hooks her thumb in my belt loop, her fingertips brush my skin, so cold I hiss.

“Jesus, Cass—you’re freezing.” I’ve already stepped away to shrug out of my jacket.

“But then you’ll be cold,” she argues, but I’ve already wrapped her up.

“I’ll live.”

My jacket is huge on her—unbidden, a vision of Cass overwhelms me, just like this at sixteen, drowning in my letter jacket. I catch myself smiling as I free her hair from the collar so the copper curls can fall down her back. And then she’s under my arm again as we hurry to catch up. Our stride is made awkward when I curl my arm so I can kiss her crown, and both her arms circle my waist, her cheek pressed to my chest.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I say and veer toward the parking lot.

But she laughs and pushes us in the other direction. “It’s Remy’s birthday. We’ve gotta go to The Horseshoe after this.”

I groan. “But you changed your mind. All plans are null and void.”

“Not this one.”

I lower my head to say quietly, “We’re going home where I can fuck you like I want to.” I veer us toward the parking lot again, and for a second, I think she’s going to let me.

Sadly, I’m not so lucky—she remembers herself and turns us back to the carnival.

“Not yet.”

“I’ve waited like you asked,” I warn, “but you’ve used up all my patience, Cassidy. I don’t think I have even a sliver of control left.”

“Good. You can take it out on me later,” she says with a wicked smirk, letting me go to grab my hand and pull me into the line of the Ferris wheel behind our friends. The ones who know the truth about us are ogling, but I don’t give a good goddamn.

She’s smiling up at me as she drapes her arms over my shoulders, her body against mine a special sort of heaven.

“You changed your mind,” I say again in wonder.

“I changed my mind,” she echoes.

“What about our sticky, messy lives?”

“They’ll always be sticky and messy, and ours are already knotted together. Plus, everybody thinks we’re married, but I haven’t been able to reap the benefits.”

My cock twitches at the combination of her words, the look she’s giving me, and the rasp in her voice. “What about it being too soon?”

She shrugs. “The kick drum is gone.”

My heart drums in its place. “Gone-gone?”

“ Gone. You can thank Jessa. She asked me if I miss Davis, and I realized I don’t. Not at all. I don’t think I ever did. I was upset because he lied and humiliated and hurt me, not because I missed him.”

“You mean I could have asked you this months ago and saved us all this waiting?”

She chuckles. “I know, I was mad too. She’s known this whole time! Asshole.” With a sigh, she says, “I’m so fucking tired of pretending I don’t want to be with you. The only thing I’m afraid of is hurting you.”

“I know the risk, and I don’t fucking care.”

She laughs, but I kiss her to make sure she knows exactly how much I don’t give a single fuck if it all goes down in flames.

“Jesus guys, get a room already. You’re holding up the line,” Remy yells, looking at us like we have seven heads between us. But when he gets into the seat next to Jessa, he winks, a spark of approval behind his eyes.

Ahead of us, we watch Molly approach the next compartment. Behind her, Carlin and Tate rush to join her, but Greyson’s meat hooks shoot out to grab them by the scruff. He only manages to get ahold of Tate—Carlin sneaks in behind her. Somehow, she missed the whole thing.

The funniest part is that the next bucket is for Grey and Tate. Greyson practically throws Tate in—a feat considering Tate’s six four—then closes the lap bar and opts out of the ride, sending Tate off to sulk on the Ferris wheel alone.

I let Cass go when we reach the attendant, digging in my pocket for a couple of tickets. When I hand them over to the bored carny, he opens the flimsy door and all but shoves us into the uncovered carriage, Cass first.

The carriage swings as the wheel takes off, and soon the sounds of the fair are far away. We’re nearly to the top when the wheel stops to let more people on. A sharp gust of wind sends a shudder down my spine, but I’m on fire when I look at her. She’s lost inside my jacket, and in that moment, she’s the girl I loved so long ago, the girl I’ve always loved, the girl I’ve been waiting on to come back to me.

Cass is cut out of the twilight sky, her skin colored in the blues and reds and purples of the neon lights of the Ferris wheel. The lights behind throw a violet blue halo around her, and the lights in front of her highlight her face in golden strokes. The breeze licks at her hair, drawing strands away and across her face in ribbons.

I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.

I’ve never wanted anything so much.

All I can do is wish on every star that I get to keep her this time.

“You’re cold,” she says, scooting across the bench and nearly into my lap. I curl around her, hungry for her warmth. “Here, put your arms under the jacket.” She leans up enough that I can slide my arms around her waist. She pulls my massive coat tight and leans back, her head resting in the curve of my shoulder. But my hands are busy, my mind laser focused on the softness of her body, cataloging every detail. The dip of her belly button, the gentle swell beneath. The length of her thigh, the rasp of my calluses against her tights.

She’s pressing her back into me, breath shallow as the wind whips around us. My hands and her body are concealed by my jacket, and when I realize that, I lower my lips to her neck. I nibble my way up to her ear, my hand busy skating up and down her thighs.

“Hands are still cold,” I mumble against her skin, slipping my hand beneath the skirt of her dress. She mewls as my fingertips skim the crease at her hip, then down her clenched thigh far enough to cup the inside just above her knee. I nudge the seam where they meet.

“Wider,” I say. On command, she spreads her legs, her back arching in a silent plea.

I answer her with the trail of my fingertips up to her heat, and when I reach that sacred place, I cup her, curling my fingers so they can taste her slick pussy, feeling the shape of her with longing.

“You’re so fucking wet, your tights are ruined.” My voice is rough, but my mouth waters as I stroke her. “I want this in my mouth.” I squeeze. “Later,” I say half to myself. “Later this is mine. Just wait.”

She makes an unintelligible sound, shifting against my hand, her flesh clenching against my fingertips as the Ferris wheel turns again, picking up speed.

Her clit is swollen when I find it and stroke, the ground coming closer as we whoosh past the line and back up into the night. She tries to turn, cups my aching cock, but I grab her wrist and draw it back under my coat, locking it to her waist.

My other hand, is happily occupied with her pussy, tracing the swollen shapes and peaks, constrained by her tights.

“ Ah ah ah, ” I say against her ear. “You’ve given enough, Cass. Now it’s my turn.” I cup her pussy again and squeeze. She wriggles against me, though she’s controlled in an attempt to be discreet. But like I said—I’m out of patience. Roughly, I reach for the band of her tights and push my hand inside, tucking my face into her neck to stifle a groan when I have her bare, hot flesh in my hand.

Around we spin in a flash of neon lights as my fingertips tease, slipping into her to slick my skin. The bud of her clit is swollen and fat, and all I want is the feel of it on my tongue.

Later.

Now she needs release, and so with the flats of my fingers, I slide up to her hood and give her the pressure her body needs. Firmly, steadily speeding, I circle, her clit stroked by my fingertips with each motion. Little gasps, and then her lips purse, face turning toward my chest to hide. And when she comes, the groan deep in her throat is the filthiest sound I’ve ever heard. My cock aches as I cup her again with gentle pressure, resting my fingers in that sweet dip so I can feel her pussy pulse and imagine I’m inside her.

Later.

With a long exhale, I nuzzle her neck as she comes down, my hand still buried between her legs, never warmer.

She sags against my chest for a second, then laughs, shifting to tilt her sated face up to mine. And I kiss her smiling lips until they’re soft and sighing. Somehow her arms are around my neck and her legs are slung over my thighs, taking up all the room between my lap and the useless bar.

Her lips are together, quirked on one side when she smiles up at me. “You’ve made a mess of my tights.”

“Don’t worry—I’ll get you out of them later.”

Cheeks flushed, she giggles, and I feel like the king of the fucking world. “Maybe we should just go home.”

“That’s what I’m fucking sayin’,” I note.

“Orrrr I could suck your dick in the truck.”

I tip my head back and groan at the moon as said dick is so hard, the zipper of my jeans threatens to do damage.

Another giggle somehow pumps another pint of blood to my cock. “I’ve been thinking about it since that night you jerked off on the couch.”

“Which one?” I joke, not joking.

“The first one. I watched you,” she admits, her eyes dropping to my Henley collar that she pretends to adjust.

“I know.” Her mouth pops open, and I laugh. “Don’t look so surprised. You know I was hoping you were. I imagined you were. And then I heard you. Do you know how hard it was not to be smug?”

She drops her forehead to my chest and groans. “That is so embarrassing.”

I shrug. “I thought it was fucking hot. Tell me your hand was in your pussy when I came.”

Another groan, and I’m laughing again.

“God, I wanna fuck you,” I say, lifting her chin so I can kiss her. Her lips part, and my tongue sweeps against hers in a dance that’s second nature, built in my dreams. Our bodies inch closer until there’s no air between us, our hands roaming and squeezing and remembering and awakening.

“Good gravy,” Remy says in that cavalier way he has about him. “Break it up—there are children present.”

We separate with a pop and some drunken blinking as we realize the ride is over before righting ourselves and exiting the bucket. However pornographic our kissing might have been, I’m absolutely certain no one saw a thing when we were fooling around—even if I wasn’t angled to obscure her with my body, my coat is huge on her and was closed the whole time. The kissing must have involved more tongue than I realized, because one woman in line is literally holding her hands over her son’s eyes like in a movie, and another old lady is shaking her head at us with narrowed eyes.

“It’s all right, folks,” I promise, grabbing Cass’s left hand to point at her ring finger. “We’re married.”

Everyone laughs, and Cass is at my side again, her face flaming red, though she’s laughing too. Remy’s arms are folded across his chest, and he’s shaking his head with a tilted smile. I smirk at him, wink, and pull her a little closer. At the motion, she threads her arms around my middle and his eyes follow the whole thing.

“Come on, birthday boy,” I say, clapping his shoulder when I pass. “It’s time to get you drunk.”