Lead Him Not Into Temptation (Redemption Book 2) (13 page)

“It’s not fucking okay, Casen!” she shouts, jumping up from the log, stopping me mid-pace. “I was a teenager, what was I supposed to do? I don’t have any memory of what happened. I’ve always blamed Preston because he brought me drinks and I was in his care, so I figured he and Amber were the ones who arranged it. This is something I’ve tried to forget about, to move past, and you’re asking me to jump right back into the pile of shit which was my adolescence. No thanks.”

The heat of her anger radiates off her. More than ever, I want to tuck her into my arms and never let her go. I want to make her feel safe, make her feel loved; I want to fill the void, which I now know is there.

“I just want you to feel safe,” I shout back, moving within inches of her. “I want you to know you aren’t alone.”

Silence hangs in the air, the sound of our breathing is all that is noticeable. Before she can reject me, I twist my fingers into her sweatshirt and pull her even closer. “I want you to know you’re wanted. You’re worth it.”

I’m hesitant for a moment, but when I see her eyes bounce to my lips and then to my eyes again, I take it as an invitation to proceed. With as much conviction as I can, I smash my mouth onto her lips. They are as soft as I remember, but now there are remnants of salt from her tears. She opens her mouth, allowing me to explore her more fully. I grasp onto her tightly and let myself get lost in the damaged beauty of this woman.

I lift her tiny body off the ground and her hands immediately wrap around my neck as her fingers crawl into my hair. The sensation of her hands on my body electrifies me, but my mind soon takes over and I know I can’t let it go any farther. This is the most inappropriate thing in the world to be doing after everything she told me. Letting it go past this kiss will make me no better than those other guys.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” I say, dropping her back down to the ground and stepping away. Tears begin to build in her eyes. She looks confused and rejected, and I want nothing more than to get away from that look.

I step closer once more, placing my hands on either side of her face and letting my forehead rest upon hers. “I want you, Jen. More than anything, I want you to be mine. But not like this.” I kiss her forehead and walk away toward the trail, which surrounds the campsite.

Walking away takes every bit of willpower I have, but I refuse to be some guy she would add to the list of douchebags who took advantage of her. I don’t want to be a guy she was with one random weekend. I want to be
the guy
she’s with forever.

Jen

Casen has been gone for hours, but I can still feel the tingle on my lips from his kiss. I kiss guys all the time. Wait, that sounds slutty. I’ve kissed many guys in my adult life, and never have any of them made me feel the way Casen does. A single touch from him can make every ounce of my body vibrate with anticipation.

I had hoped he would let his resolve down for just another moment to allow us to explore the flirtation we had been dancing around for months. Instead of staying put and kissing me like I wish he would have, he walked away from me, panting and restraining himself.

Henri has been my companion in the camper. The lug is starting to grow on me. I’ve been tossing and turning, but when I hear the sound of a guitar outside I’m roused from the surprisingly soft bed. I don’t find it as comfortable as it should be without Casen in it with me. I never thought I would admit to wanting a man to stay the night with me in an emotional rather than sexual capacity. Yet, here I am, yearning for Casen in any way I can get him.

I wrap myself in the same fleece blanket from our campfire chat and follow the sound of Casen’s guitar. Quickly closing the door behind me as not to let Hendrix out, I sneak down the steps in a stealth-like manner, which would rival Mission Impossible. Now wearing a grey beanie to keep warm, Casen is sitting on the same log where we had shared our most guarded secrets hours earlier. His eyes are closed, lightly gripping onto his acoustic guitar. It’s the most beautiful sight; it’s like he is the music, the guitar is an extension of his body. This man was born to do this.

It takes a moment to decipher the song he’s playing. “Moonlight Sonata” is one of the most recognizable songs, but I’ve never heard it played on the guitar. I’ve always loved the song; its melancholy rhythm always spoke to me. It had seeped into my soul, like it was written just for me. This version, while different, is mesmerizing.

I don’t want him to notice me and stop playing, so I stand as still as possible at the bottom of the stairs and listen. Closing my eyes, I let the sound envelop me, losing myself in the melody. All time is lost until I hear Casen’s voice boom over the music and my eyes slide open.

“You should be sleeping,” he says, propping his guitar against the log.

“I couldn’t. I was lonely.” I move closer to him. “That was beautiful,” I add, pointing to his instrument.

“I needed to clear my head. Sorry I disturbed you.”

“No, not at all,” I cut him off. “I needed to hear that song tonight. I just wish you would have played it for me in there,” I say suggestively, nodding in the direction of the camper. My bravery momentarily shines through as I add the last line, realizing the words may be the biggest risk of my life. I’ve never been more afraid of rejection than I am right now standing in front of Casen.

He rubs his hands up and down his face and then takes his beanie off and runs his fingers through his soft, messy hair. “Please don’t tempt me, Jen,” he whispers, focusing his eyes on the beanie he’s now weaving through his fingers. “It’s taking every bit of willpower I have not to carry you into that camper and do all the things I hoped of doing since I had my first taste of you.”

I close the distance between us and take his chin in my hand, forcing his eyes to meet mine. “I know you think being with me right now would put you in the same category as every other guy who has hurt me, used me.” I take his hand in mine, lacing our finger together. “You need to understand, though, you’re not taking anything I don’t want to give you.”

Casen delicately kisses the back of my hand and then rests my hand against his cheek. “If we take this step, there’s no going back for me. I want something real, something that is just me and you. Is that something you can give me?”

“I admit I’ve never had that before. Honestly, I had never met a man I wanted for longer than a night. You’re different, Casen. With you, I wouldn’t want anything less than everything.”

I drop my hand from his and wrap the oversized blanket around both of us. All reservations he has fade from his face, and a smile, which clenches my heart, replaces the apprehension. As soon as I smile back, Casen stands and lifts me in the air to carry me back to the camper. There are no more words, just his lips on mine. I wrap my legs around his strong core and hold on to this gorgeous man.

He moves quickly as if he’s afraid if he takes too much time one of us might change our mind. As soon as we’re inside the camper and in the bedroom, we break apart only long enough to chase Henri out of the room. Casen sprawls me out on top of the fluffy duvet, taking a second to stare down at me. Only in a Broncos T-shirt and panties, I would think I would feel self-conscience about Casen perusing my body with his eyes like this, but I don’t. I feel beautiful. No more hiding, no more avoiding my past. I thought he would run when he found out, but he knows my secret and still wants me.

Casen slides out of his shoes and crawls up the bed, eventually caging me in with his solid arms. “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?” he murmurs as he hovers over me.

I reach up, placing my hands on both sides of his face. “Show me,” I whisper.

He offers no verbal response, only actions. His lips, his hands travel every inch, conquering and devouring my body…my heart…my soul.

I hastily strip off his clothes like a child with a present on Christmas morning, rushed and frenzied. He complies with my feverish demands, but once he’s undressed he grasps my wrists and places them above my head.

“Shh,” he says, burying his face into my neck. “I’m not going anywhere.” He licks and kisses down my neck while his hands move slowly under my shirt. After sliding it over my head, he begins making his way to my panties. Landing soft kisses along the waistband, his hands slowly slip the thin fabric down my legs, provoking a wave of chills across my body.

I’ve never made love. The slow, tender, passionate act is not something I’ve had and I look to Casen for direction. Rough, fast, and lacking all emotion other than lust is what I’m used to. I typically dominate and take what I want. To submit to Casen, to open my Pandora’s Box of emotions is frightening.

I try to calm my nerves as he kisses his way up my body, but when his mouth crashes down once again on mine any leftover fears dwindle. I wrap my legs around his strong body and allow him to melt into me. As the passion of the moment reaches a fevered pitch, my feelings for Casen overwhelm me. His arms feel like my safe haven; I’ve not only discovered my own heart, but I’ve found a home within his.

The sun has started to peek through the small camper windows, and the cool morning air is beginning to filter into the room. Now under the covers, our limbs completely tangled together, we’ve been shifting in and out of sleep for the last few hours. Snuggling and spooning are new to me, but in Casen’s arms, I could lay in this camper forever. I’m sure food can be delivered to us; of course the girls would understand my new life of hibernation.

“Hey you,” Casen says as he kisses my temple.

I simply reply with a smile and cord my fingers with his.

“You know I’m not going to be able to let you go, right? I’m in this for the long haul. Me and you, sparkplug, remember?” His voice is almost pleading, a fear of rejection similar to mine laced in his tone.

“Just me and you,” I reassure him. We lie in a comfortable silence, wrapped in each other’s arms until I rise up on my elbow and ask him the question I’ve wanted the answer to since he first called me the most annoying nickname ever given.

“I have to ask. Why in the hell do you call me sparkplug?” I inquire, lightly scratching my nails along his chest.

“Sometimes I shorten it to sparky,” he replies nonchalantly.

“Exactly. Instead of something sweet like baby or kitten, nope, I get Clark Griswold’s pet name. Other than that usage, every other Jack Russell Terrier in the United States is named Sparky, so I’m not exactly seeing it as a term of endearment.”

“I honestly never thought about that,” he chuckles, wobbling my elbow, which is resting on his chest.

“Well, those are things you have to consider,” I add sarcastically.

Casen rolls onto his side, forcing me to slide off him. A mischievous smile lights up his face. “All right, can I explain?”

I nod, signaling him to continue.

“Jen, you have to understand, you are the feistiest, most stubborn, headstrong woman I’ve ever met. You don’t take shit from anyone, especially me, and yet you are one of the most loyal people I’ve ever come across. I adore you for all those qualities.”

“What does that have to do with—” I begin to ask, but he covers my mouth with two of his fingers, cutting me off.

“Do you know what a sparkplug is?” he asks.

“I know it belongs in a car, but other than that, no.” He gives me a look of disappointment. “Don’t give me that look, Casen Thompson. I’m not the type of girl who rebuilds engines; I have a triple A card for a reason.”

“Never once did you strike me as the type to wield a wrench,” he mocks.

“Ha ha. This better be one hell of an explanation,” I warn teasingly.

“Wait a minute, what’s wrong with the Griswolds?” he teases. I playfully push his shoulder, causing him to laugh.

“You’re such an asshole,” I tell him as I try to hide my own smile.

“I certainly am, but it’s what you like about me. Now hush and let me finish.”

I settle back against the pillows and wait for whatever imaginative creation Casen has concocted for my terrible nickname. I always thought he was poking fun at me when he used it.

“I enjoy cars, not the new pieces of shit made of plastic, but the classics, cars with soul. You know I treat Nelly like my own child. That pickup was nothing more than a rusted out shell of a vehicle when I bought it, and it took years to restore. There is something really cool about finding something which has been abandoned, something which was thrown away and making it shine again.”