And it always does, doesn’t it?
“You can’t make any promises,” she murmured, turning onto her side to face him fully. “And I don’t have any expectations. That makes us sound awful compatible just now—don’t you think?”
He swallowed, gaze seeking her eyes, her mouth, her breasts.
“I liked everything that happened the other night,” she said, meeting his eyes on the final word. “Everything except for when it stopped.”
Again, he swallowed, lips parting and looking fuller. Surely this professional gambler had a poker face to be reckoned with, but just now he was an open book. “Did you?”
She nodded.
“So did I,” he said. “More than I thought I should tell you.”
“I’m not as delicate as you think I am.” She might wind up with a broken heart at the end of this non-courtship, but she’d lived through far worse.
He edged nearer, and she thrilled when his knee nudged hers. She opened her legs, welcoming his warm, heavy thigh. The contact was more sweet than sexy, matching the caution on his handsome face. She scooted close. He cupped her cheek and studied her lips for a long moment before meeting them with his own.
Her eyes shut, and she felt his collar in her grip, the top button of his shirt, a soft tease of chest hair against her knuckles. She wanted his shirt gone, and a chance to touch the unknown planes of his body. Wanted him completely naked, and excited. Wanted him hard and hot and begging for her.
“You just fucking love to feel wanted, don’t you?”
James had laid that on her, spat those words in the midst of the fight that had her leaving him for good. Nothing stung quite like the truth. Nothing cut with so jagged an edge. She did love to feel wanted. It went beyond vanity, went someplace darker and deeper and uglier, but she hungered for that. Craved that power that no girl with her unassuming smarts or charms or looks would ever be expected to possess.
“Never give a man everything he’s after,” her grandmother had told her. “There’s far worse words for a girl to be called than ‘tease.’ Hold a little something back. Dogs are happiest when they’re hunting, so don’t get caught until it’s on your terms.”
She tried to imagine explaining this philosophy to Raina, on one of those nights back when they’d worked together. While Raina intimidated the crap out of her, she was also a bit in awe of how her old boss managed to go through the world caring so little what others thought. Saying what she liked, needing nobody. What would Raina counter her grandma’s wisdom with?
Hey, if you want to date dogs, by all means, knock yourself out. I’ll just be over here, fucking a grown-ass man.
Yeah, that sounded about right. And was probably fair. But Raina had more leverage in this world than Abilene did—looks, means, confidence, an established role in the place she called home. Playing games with guys might be deceitful and manipulative, but when it was the only tool you had . . .
Still, Abilene had no desire to play those games with Casey. There was no future for them, nothing at stake. Nothing standing in the way.
She kissed him deeper, welcomed his tongue. Imagined that he was her first boyfriend, that everything was how it should be. A do-over to fix her entire sexual history, make it all right.
She touched his face and hair, fascinated. He was so much more than good-looking to her. This was the first man—the first person—who’d held her daughter, the first face Mercy ever saw, first voice she’d heard. Maybe those things were making her project more onto this attraction than was wise, but it felt so good, she just wanted to stay lost in the rush. Never come up for air.
His hand roamed down her side, then eased up beneath her sweater to rest at the middle of her back. Through her shirt she felt the warmth of his skin—he radiated heat like no one she’d ever met. Like a permanent fever. She touched him in turn, rubbing his chest, tugging at the snaps of his shirt one by one, until she had it spread open and his blazing bare skin was under her palm. His breaths quickened and his kisses grew stilted, distracted.
“Take your sweater off, honey,” he murmured, pulling back.
She did, tugging her long-sleeved tee back down over her belly. He wrapped his arms around her, kneaded at her back, his mouth hot on her neck, beard tickling. She held his head and shut her eyes, replayed every moan and cuss he’d let her hear when they’d first messed around.
What’s changed? she had to wonder. This man panting at her throat was different. While on Monday he’d been hesitant, even a little resistant, now he felt eager and possessive. Hungry.
She drew her fingers through his hair, mesmerized. “Tell me what you need.”
“I don’t even know.” His words were all but lost against her neck. “Just you. Here.”
Her own needs, exactly. Just to feel this, in the midst of everything else that was happening. Something simple, primal, to banish the chaos for a little while.
She slid lower along his body, leveling their hips. He kissed her while she admired him, her hands taking in the curve of his back, the firm muscle of his butt, the heat of his skin beneath his shirt. Her thigh was locked around his, and when he began to move, she felt him—excited and hard behind his jeans.
For a long moment, everything was friction and heat. Then all at once, Casey stilled, pulling away enough to meet her eyes.
“The baby,” he murmured, nodding to the corner as he caught his breath.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s weird. Isn’t it?”
“Parents have been doing it for centuries. She can’t even see.” There was a blanket draped over the side of the crib to block the glow of the reading lamp. “Just try to stay quiet.” Abilene was aching to see that, actually—the strain on Casey’s face as he struggled to stifle his sounds, his excitement.
“It’ll be dinner soon. Someone could knock.”
“Christine almost never does—it’s too likely me or the baby are napping.” And precisely who was this man, suddenly so concerned with propriety?
“But when she doesn’t see either of us,” Casey said, “she might get worried.”
She sensed it was a different person’s worries that had him hesitating—his own. She’d seen this look in too many men’s eyes to mistake it. The look of a guy who didn’t always do the right thing trying desperately to figure out just how out-of-bounds things were about to get. And whatever he might say on the matter, this man was better than most. But she couldn’t bear it if he chose to be good tonight.
Bad always felt so damn much better.
“Please, don’t make this stop.” She was begging—it was in her voice, probably in her eyes as well. “It feels too nice.” Too real and easy, while reality was so uncertain.
Casey hesitated. “I guess we have a little while, still . . .”
She took that as a green light, drawing his mouth back to hers. And no matter his concerns, he was still stiff when she cupped her hand between them. He moaned against her lips, and his hips pressed him harder along her palm.
She worried he’d halt her when she went for his belt, but he didn’t. Once the buckle was freed and she was fussing with the button of his fly, he surprised her. Edged her hand away and did the job himself, then pushed his jeans low on his hips. He led her back to his cock, wrapping her fingers around him through his shorts. He made a sound, a pained little sigh, as she stroked him, then put his mouth to her neck once again, kissing roughly between hungry breaths.
“You feel good,” she whispered.
“So do you. Just tell me where I can touch you. Please. I fucking love your body.”
She blushed, hot with nerves and pleasure. “I’m not sure. I guess, wherever you like, and I’ll just tell you if it’s too much. Just . . . just through my clothes, for now.” Only one other time in her life had she felt this insecure about being naked before a man, and that had been with James. Though the circumstances—and indeed her physical flaws—couldn’t be more different.