C.A.K.E novel Chapter 6

Casper hugs Arden's half-conscious body closer to his, as he carries her through the museum past the concerned stares of guards and other patrons. He's moving with as much urgency as his latent desire will allow.

He's in no rush to put her down. Her wavy hair bounces with every step, as he tries to keep her head tucked against his chest. She hasn't said another word since she folded like an accordion next to the sculpture.

His primary concern is to get her some help, but that doesn't stop the biological responses triggered by her stunning beauty. He looks down at her hooded eyes and her berry lips. Her mouth is parted like she's about to whisper something, or anticipating a kiss—his kiss.

From this vantage point, he also has a premium view of the cleavage bursting at the small ivory buttons of her cardigan. Distracted by her trembling flesh, he stumbles but manages to right himself.

He adjusts Arden's weight in his arms, firming his grip on her curves. With one hand resting on her ribcage just below the crest of her right breast, and the other somewhere along her upper thigh, he thanks the man upstairs. Casper doesn't know what he did to deserve it, but he damn sure ain't complaining. His fingers sink into her soft skin, enjoying the blessing of her anatomy even through her clothes.

One last set of stairs separates them from the entrance and his car. Each step brings him closer to the realization that in a moment, he'll have to let go of one of God's angels. Now that he's held her, releasing her might as well be a death sentence. So he makes the most of it.

He curls his hands around her, smiling when he detects the bounce of her breast against his palm. Hmm ... minimal padding. That's all her. In his satisfaction, a reflex takes over and he squeezes the roundness in his large hand.

Arden stirs against him. “Casper?”

“Yes,” he asks, ready to do whatever that beautiful voice requests.

“Your hand is on my breast.” She tilts her head back and her eyes shoot open.

There's indignation in her tone, but those pretty brown eyes are telling a different story. They don't mind his roaming fingers, seeming to welcome the touch.

Casper apologizes but doesn't move his hand. The longing in her expression reflects the near ravenous hunger brewing in him. If they weren't in public, he'd do something about it.

He steps through the glass doors of the museum, and onto the sidewalk. Casper, slow to relinquish his front-row seat at Arden's coming out party, sets her down on a nearby bench. He keeps a protective hold on her. One hand stays tucked across her waist, while the other pushes stubborn strands of hair out of her face.

“Are you okay?” Casper strokes her cheek.

“Yes, I'm fine.” She shifts her head away from his gentle hand.

Undeterred, he takes her sweaty palm in his. “You wanna tell me what happened back there?”

“It's Alabama. Heatstroke is going around.” Arden shrugs.

“I'm serious. Are you all right?”

Arden looks at him, her eyes laced with a complicated cocktail of anxiety and longing.

“Just heat exhaustion.” She tries a smile and an uneasy laugh. “I'm fine.”

Her breathing has yet to return to normal, and worry still wrinkles her brow. She's not fine. And no amount of her hollow reassurance is going to convince him otherwise.

Casper hooks an arm behind her back, and the other underneath her knees. “I'm taking you to the emergency room.”

She grabs his arm, preventing him from lifting her. “That's not necessary. Really.”

“Then I'm taking you home.”

He produces keys from the pocket of his slacks and taps a button. The doors of a cherry Bentley Continental GT unlatch with a polished click.

“I can drive myself,” she insists.

A breeze has the audacity to brush past them, without imparting a hint of cooling comfort. The rude gust of air blows Arden's soft hair into her face again.

Casper slips his hand into its depths and smooths it back until his fingers are resting at the nape of her neck. He exerts gentle pressure on her head, making her maintain eye contact with him.

“Emergency room, or my car. Take your pick.”

She dips her head. “Casper—.”

Before she can finish voicing her objection, he reiterates his position.

“The doctor ...” He points to the sleek machine. “Or the Bentley.”

Casper uses his thumb to lift her chin. A smirk and a small sigh accompany her acquiescence. He nods along with her as she states her decision.

“The Bentley.”

He takes her hand and opens the passenger door for her. Dirty things run through his mind, as he watches her settle into the seat and pull her long legs in one at a time. He shuts her door and takes his time getting into the driver's seat.

Casper takes a second to adjust the evidence of how strung out he is over Arden. Slipping into the car, he asks her address.

“1100 5th Avenue South,” she says.

Arden clears her throat and plays with her wedding ring. She stares out of the window, angling her body toward the door.

Casper doesn't mind that she's turning away from him. Her position allows him an easy peek at her thighs and generous backside. She can ignore him all she wants if this is the reward.

As he navigates the streets of Birmingham, he steals glances at Arden. When he looks her way to check his blind spot, he finds her eyes are on him. She turns her head, and he smiles to himself. He makes what seems like two turns, and they're pulling up to her building.

Arden leans forward in her seat and reaches for the door handle. “I can manage from here, Casper.”

Casper doesn't hear a word Arden says, because he's already out of the car. He passes his keys to the valet and helps her from the quiet interior of his Bentley. She declines his offer to carry her inside. He insists on keeping an arm around her waist, just in case. Just in case she falters and needs his helpful hands to catch her.

The lobby is empty when they enter, even the concierge is absent. He feels Arden's body relax against his arm. She pushes the elevator button and tries once more to convince him that she will be fine on her own.

Casper won't hear of it. Her little episode scared him, and now that part of him that likes to swoop in and save the day has been awakened. She's not going to get rid of him anytime soon. Inside the elevator, Arden punches in the passcode to the penthouse.

After a swift ascent, the doors open onto the long hallway that leads to the Stones' front door. Edison bulbs come alive one by one with their every step.

Abstract portraits of Arden and Elliott are suspended along the walls. Warhol-style selfies of a redheaded girl and boy catch Casper's eye.

Arden unlocks the door to the condo, and steps over the threshold. Keeping her eyes on her feet, she holds the door open and ushers him inside the spacious apartment.

“Come in.” She heads for the kitchen, prepared to play hostess. “Would you like something to drink?”

Casper shakes his head and guides her over to the couch. He makes her sit, while he searches the kitchen cabinets for a glass and pours her some water. He hands the cool drink to her and takes a seat on the coffee table across from her.

“So this is where the amazing Arden Stone lays her head?”

“Yes, this is our home.” She rests the ice-cold glass against her cheek and peeks at him through lowered lashes.

She said "our." But Casper doesn't care that he's poaching Eli's wife on his home turf. Some risks are just worth taking. He surveys the room. Bright colors dance on the walls and furniture. It's almost a carbon copy of the bakery.

“It looks like you.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“That was supposed to be a compliment.”

She nods and takes another sip of her water. “Right.”

“Feeling any better?”

“I'm all right now.”

Casper feels Ardi's forehead with the back of his hand. Then he puts two fingers to her neck, just underneath the curve of her jawbone.

As he checks the beating of her heart, he consults his watch. Arden licks her lips, making him lose count. They lock eyes for a moment before she averts her gaze.

“Do that often?”

“Do what?” she asks, still refusing to look at him.

“Scare the shit outta people.”

Arden sort of giggles, and sets her glass down on the end table. “I try not to make a habit of it.”

She keeps her head turned, choosing to stare out of the large windows rather than look at him. Her profile, lit from the sun, has him mesmerized.

The cute turn-up of her nose, coupled with her strong cheekbones and the flare of her soft lips-everything about her. She's beautiful from any angle. Casper smiles at the thought of waking up next to her sun-drenched face every morning.

He slides his hands underneath her bottom and pulls her toward him until they're close enough to breathe for each other.

“What else don't you make a habit of?”