Bait (Wake, #1)(53)
It had been months since I felt him inside me. Months since my body felt like it did. Months since I wanted to touch more than be touched.
I explained, “This doesn't have to be some romantic thing. It's anatomical. You're body wants my body and mine wants yours.”
“Is that all that wants me? What about your ring finger, honeybee? Who does that want?”
Shit. My engagement ring. Wasn't that twisted? I felt ashamed of my engagement ring. Shouldn't I feel guilty about the thing I’d just said and the invitation I’d given to a man who wasn't my fiancé? But still, it was this ring that caused me to feel wrong and for all the wrong reasons.
“Don't do that,” I told him.
“Do what? I thought we were telling it like it is?” The hard set of his face wouldn't crack and I couldn't tell if he was teasing me or if he was serious. He looked serious.
“Maybe you're right. I shouldn't have asked. Forget it, friend.” I shrugged his arm off my shoulders and took a drink of my beer. I was irritated. I felt petulant. I felt like throwing a tantrum.
He grabbed my chin and held it front and center, his voice was low when he said, “First, don't call me friend like it's a swear word. It's mean. Second, we're going up stairs and we might miss the whole f*cking party. Third, you're going to take the ring off. It isn't fair to the guy to f*ck me while you're wearing it and I don't want it scratching up my back. Aly will see it. Get your purse.”
He pulled away from the bar, pulled a few twenties from his pocket and started for the lobby.
He had just said so many raw things that left my mind scrambled, but the one word I heard loud and clear was “Aly.”
I met him at the elevators where he waited for me. Casey stood facing the stainless steel doors and didn't even look at me when I came to be by his side. He knew I was there, though, because as soon as I stopped on his left, he reached his long muscular arm out to press the up button and the door immediately opened.
We stepped inside.
“What floor, Blake?” he asked, but it didn't have even the slightest hint of sweetness that I was so used to.
“Eleven,” I said on an exhale.
He pressed the button when I didn't make a move to do it myself, being that I was closer to the panel of numbers.
The joking fun Casey from earlier was gone. The Casey that wrote on mugs and sent me pictures of animals getting it on and crazy random facts, wasn't there anymore.
In place of him was a man who seemed taller, more rigid than my friend Casey from San Francisco. His posture changed from relaxed to guarded. His tone was one of a man about to take what he wanted. The change happened instantly at the bar after I called him friend. And I felt a little sick that my frustrated and shameful mouth was to blame for the switch.
His mind and silly personality drew me to him, but this new persona said no more f*cking around and that ignited something deep within me.
The man I stepped onto the elevator with made me both boil with serious desire and want to run. His shoulders were set firmer, his spine straight. He changed into a different version of himself. I didn't want the old Casey to go, but in a way I'd pushed him into this. Playful Casey had a menacing air about him now that called to some part in my body that knew it deserved punishment.
I would try once to get back my friend, get back the smile I daydreamed about. If he didn't accept my plight, I would let him have it his way.
Or maybe he was just giving me my way. Only I knew that hindsight would tell me soon enough.
“You are my friend, Casey,” I offered as soon as the blurry reflection in front of us mirrored a mercurial man and a nervous woman.
He didn't answer.
The elevator began to move with almost no sound. We were alone. Just me, Casey, and a tension that made me sweat.
I wanted to look up at him, but anxiety froze me, eyes straight ahead. My index finger toyed with a piece of skin that framed my thumbnail; I itched to bite it.
“Why don't you keep saying that, Blake? You're only trying to convince yourself.” His unwavering timbre vibrated my bones and every molecule in my body heard his message.
He didn't like being called my friend.
The lift slowed its climb as it approached my floor not stopping to let anyone on or off on our ride up. When the doors opened the sun almost blinded me. The hallway in front of us was long and at the end of it was an all glass wall. Through it was the sun setting over downtown Atlanta, the flaming dusk setting precisely in the center of our view. He didn't hesitate to walk straight out of the lift and then he paused, waiting for me to do the same.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
His expression was blank, but I could see a hurricane brewing in his eyes. If I were being honest with myself, I would have admitted to feeling the tiniest bit of fear. The facts told me that I'd only met this man a handful of times and had some long-distance conversations with him. Yet there I was taking him to my room, even though he didn't seem familiar.
He wasn't drunk, neither was I.
I didn't know what was going to happen. It was adventurous and scary as hell. My instincts told me Casey wasn't malicious and that I wasn't in any real danger. It was thrilling. It was arousing. It was fascinating seeing a new side of him, even though I didn't like the reason for its appearance.