Casey stepped close, rested a hand on the baby’s back, and leaned in to kiss Abilene. On the lips, not the cheek. She watched him disappear down the hall with a broad grin overtaking those same lips, and the smell of him lingering about her.
Mine, she thought, with a bolt of ferocity she’d forgotten she could feel for anyone other than Mercy. That man was too many things—reliable and mysterious and goofy and a little dangerous; cute one minute, then handsome, then so sexy it made her pulse spike. Loyal and wild, and just a touch sketchy.
A hundred mismatched things, she thought.
And mine. If only in my dreams.
Chapter 17
Upstairs, Abilene laid the dozing baby in her crib, changed into her pajama bottoms and a tee, and settled under the covers, waiting. Perhaps twenty minutes later she heard steps, then water running in the bathroom. She’d left the door ajar, and Casey slipped inside. Finding her awake, his expression changed from pensive to soft in a breath. He smiled faintly and came to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Anything?” she asked.
“Not a lot. It was the same guy Miah chased, though. He recognized his build and his jacket, from the tape. At least that narrows it down to one confirmed white male creeper, and not a whole team of them. After last year’s casino drama, this town needs another criminal conspiracy like it needs a drought.”
“You get a drink into Miah?”
He shook his head. “He went out to talk with the deputies and his workers.”
“Should we be worried? For tonight, I mean?”
“I don’t think so. Guy’s a coward, and those shots were probably designed to scare Jason off, not to actually hit him.”
“That’s something, I suppose.”
“I’m with Miah—a burglar seems like the most obvious explanation.”
“And not a very good burglar,” Abilene wagered. “He’s been caught twice now.”
“Say the word and we’ll get you and Mercy out of here.”
She considered it. “To where?”
“My place, maybe.”
His place . . . There was an appeal to that, a dangerous one. He’d begun feeling like more than a friend and boss these past few days, more than a lover, even. Her growing attachment made it unwise, and beyond that, she didn’t want to uproot the baby any more than necessary, or give James any reason to doubt the stability of his daughter’s situation.
“Let’s wait and see what the Sheriff’s Department has to say. Maybe they’ll catch the guy. I’d hate to put us both through the trouble if it gets resolved.”
He nodded. “Whatever you’re comfortable with. You gonna be able to sleep tonight?”
With Casey beside her? “Yeah, I think so. If you’re sticking around.”
Another nod, and something in his expression shifted. It was more than glassy-eyed lust. Something fiercer, and every sweet thing he’d said to her in the car echoed in her memory, warming her through. I’ve never been for anybody what I’ve been for you two. And no man had ever been for Abilene quite what Casey was becoming.
No doubt she’d wanted this man, each and every time their bodies came together, but tonight felt different. Like a change in the atmosphere.
A change in me, she knew. She felt more for him than she’d felt for a man in years and years, and she hoped he’d feel it right back in the way she welcomed him inside her tonight.
She shivered at the thought, excited. It was chased by a little pang of residual guilt—a by-product of her upbringing—but then, as always, that pang transformed, charging her as Casey joined her under the blanket.
He studied her face and throat. “What do you need tonight?” he whispered. “Comfort, or distraction, or . . . ?”
“Both.” She drew him close by the collar, and in a breath he was up to speed, exactly the man she needed. His hands were warm on her ribs, and his eyes closed as he brought his mouth to hers. He felt restless and hungry, and in no time his hands were urging her, directing her. He sat up, cross-legged, drawing her onto his lap, hugging her legs around his waist.
It was the deepest kiss of Abilene’s life. The hottest, and the sweetest. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugged their centers together, and still she needed him closer. Needed to feel his strong, warm body on hers, to hear him, smell him. She let her hands roam as they wished, exploring his arms and chest and back.
It had been ages since she’d wanted a man this way. With abandon and ferocity instead of cautious curiosity. Even when she’d seduced James, she’d managed to be passive about it. But she trusted Casey so implicitly, the old role no longer fit. Every other lover she’d had had been like a lion or a wolf or some other skittish beast to be approached with deference, won through submission. But this man . . .
She wanted to be on top of him, just like this. To rub her body against his in whatever ways felt good, and to hell with whether it made her look aggressive or impolite. Sick of playing the helpless little girl part, she wanted to feel like a grown woman for the first time. Wanted to take, instead of be taken.
Casey drew his mouth back, smiling broadly, eyes crinkling. “You’re different tonight.”
“I feel different.”
“I like it,” he whispered.
“So do I.”
He held her face and kissed her hard.
Her hand found the headboard and she held his shoulder with the other, and began to move. He was hard, and she drew her own excitement against his in tight, needy motions, swallowing his moans as they kissed, until his head dropped back, eyes shut tight. He looked overwhelmed, and his breaths were coming in panting gasps. She’d known sexual power before—a cowardly, manipulative, roundabout sort of power. But nothing like this. She felt as if she were riding a wild animal instead of merely taming one.
“Fuck, honey.” His palms held her waist, eyes still shut, lips parted. She traced the lower one with her fingertips, kissed his chin and jaw and throat, his ear.
“Where’d you come from?” he murmured, barely loud enough to hear.
“You make me want things. Want to do things.” Not to merely let things happen to her. She didn’t know how to tell him what a revelation this was, so she let her body do the talking.
After another minute’s friction, he panted, “I’m gonna fucking catch fire. Let’s get our clothes off.”
She knelt between his legs, plucking at his shirt’s snaps. In a few clumsy seconds they got that off, and Casey shed his tee while Abilene worked his belt buckle open. He finished the job, shoving his jeans and shorts away. Abilene ditched her bottoms and shirt and bra, sitting naked before him now. She didn’t care about her belly or breasts or stretch marks or any other thing. All that mattered was the gleam in his eyes as he surveyed her bare body—pure awe and lust.
She studied him right back. She’d never stared at a man this way, so openly. It had seemed more feminine to steal shy glances. It had seemed more like her, in keeping with that persona she’d hidden behind for so long. But Casey knew better. He’d known she was pregnant by a violent criminal and maintained a crush on her through it all, so it wasn’t her more obvious charms that had attracted him. Precisely what it was, she couldn’t say, but ditching the shy-girl act was like stripping away more than her clothes. Like that tired old victim costume she’d relied on for way too long lay in tatters on the floor.
So she let her eyes feast, loving every detail of him. His skin was pale, freckles still lingering on his forearms and face, and tinted pink here and there, a blush that went far beyond his cheeks. The hair on his chest and between his legs was golden brown, and he had two moles on his left pec, one on his throat, each the color of toffee. A mauve smudge of a scar marred one thigh—a souvenir from a gunshot wound, though that was all she knew of its origin story.