Bait (Wake, #1)(100)

I got his reply when I was waiting to board the plane. He wasn't happy about me being gone for so long, but I was often gone for weeks. He asked me if I could come back, for a weekend, in the middle of my trip and I agreed. That seemed to be enough for him and he replied to travel safe and be careful.

I never felt like he missed me. Not the way Casey did.

Every time I saw Casey after a long break, his face would split into a wide open smile, his teeth were so perfect and bright, and he'd come to me like he couldn't wait another minute for me to walk all the way to him. That always felt so good.

“No, we didn't fight. We never really do.”

How weird was that? Something that should have been a good thing in a relationship was such a bad thing for our marriage. There was never a fight. No passion. No desperation. It just was.

“Not like we do,” I said and tried to smile.

“We do know how to fight, don't we? It's becoming a second language fighting with you. Over and over and over. I think by now we're almost fluent.”

I dipped the cup under and tipped the whole thing on him, more on his face than on his head.

“I miss your hair, Casey. I don't like it this short.” I couldn't help myself and I inched closer to him. Wrapping my legs around his waist and rising up higher on his lap. His hands found my backside and pulled me even closer. I could feel him growing hard between us. My hands moved over his short hair and my thumbs ironed out the fine red wrinkles on his forehead that the sun had made and time had creased.

I touched his face and lips.

“I miss your mouth.” And then I kissed him chastely on the side where his lips met in the corner. “I miss the way your eyes undress me the moment you see me.” I dotted kisses along his jaw to his ear, feeling him harden even more under my lap, his hands firming their grip on my ass. I said into his ear, “I miss the way your breath feels in my ear. I want you, Casey. I always want you.”

His mouth moved around my face to find its mate and they devoured each other. Nothing in the moment was rushed. We had no place to go. We were where we needed to be.

I rose up and felt him at my entrance and without a guiding hand, I sat myself on him and didn't stop until he was all of the way inside me.

Nothing felt like Casey Moore.

“I miss you, too,” he said over and over like a mantra as I rose and fell slowly over top of him. He wrapped his arms around me tightly and kissed me everywhere his mouth could find.

“I hate it when you're gone. I hate when I can't talk to you. I hate thinking about you with him. It’s killing me. It's killing me not being the one who gets to have you. Stay, Blake. Be mine.”

He spoke loving words in my ears and told me how much he needed me. We moved so slow that the water barely lapped in the tub, taking our time. Savoring the sensations.

As we got closer he brought a hand between us and touched me the way only he did. His thumb dancing delicately over the sensitive spot he was so familiar with. He stroked it like a flint catching my body on fire.

“Tell me you're mine, honeybee, and I'll let you come.”

My orgasm was on the precipice of ignition, so I had no other choice. “I'm yours. I've always been yours, Casey. Please.” I begged, craving my time-denied release. “I'll say whatever you want.”

His thumb slowed and moved away from the epicenter of my building climax. “No, Blake. I don't want you to just say it. I need you to mean it.”

My body was wanton and throbbing for its orgasm. I ground myself onto him and moaned my truth, “I always want you. Only you.”

Our mouths met feverishly, out teeth hitting together as we feasted on one another.

He relieved me, bringing his hand back to my screaming body, and in less than three or four deft strokes we were coming. I stilled and let the feeling of him emptying inside me claim all of my senses.



I didn't have my bag, and therefore I had no clean clothes in the house to put on. When we left the confines of the tub, when the water grew cool and shivers peaked on both of our flesh, I wrapped myself in a large towel and stood there like I was waiting for further instruction.

“Did you mean what you said?” I asked as I watched him rummage through the cabinet under the sink.

Absentmindedly, he replied, “Yeah.” Finally popping his head out, holding a new toothbrush out to me.

“You did?” I retorted, knowing he wasn't paying attention to my question.

His face looked befuddled, as if he didn't follow.

“You just answered yeah. I don't think you heard me.” I quirked an eyebrow at him. He looked so calm and almost like the easy-going man I knew months and months ago.

“I heard you. You asked if I meant what I said and the answer is easy. Yes. I don't know what you were talking about.” He stood and smiled wrapping his arms around my shoulders, while I gripped the toothbrush in between our bodies. “The thing you don't understand is that I've meant everything I've said tonight.” He kissed the top of my head. “Now brush your teeth. It's time for bed, Betty. I hope you're not tired.”

I prayed that it was real. All of it.

The wicked grin on his face made my heart beat double time.

I stood beside him at the sink. Even though there were two, we shared. He already turned the water on and was dispelling the paste to his brush. He looked at me expectantly in the mirror and offered me a squeeze. I pointed the head of the new toothbrush at him and he gave it a stripe across the bristles. We brushed our teeth smiling like it was the most normal of activities.