Bait (Wake, #1)(54)

“What's your room number?”

“1128,” I said and walked straight past him and into the sun.

He followed close behind and I, for once in my life, didn't have to dig for my room key. It was in the pocket of my jacket, which was slung over my purse. I slid it into the card reader and the green light flashed and the lock clicked.

The tension made everything more vivid. The beep of the lock. The smell of the recirculated air-conditioning that hit me in the face as soon as I stepped into the dark room. There were black-out curtains, which were closed, blocking out the fiery sunset behind them.

I could feel him just behind me.

I only made it in five or six feet before the sound of the door shutting caused me to jump. The darkness in the room seemed blacker than normal. Instantly I heard him kick off his shoes, then the tale-tell sound of a southward zipper. Pants hit the floor and spare change rolled out of a pocket. I made out the rustling of shirts pulling away from skin.

Then I felt his radiating heat, his breath on my neck, and my heart touched my insides, both front and back.

“Where are we doing this?” He sounded much cooler than the heat pouring off him felt. His hand reached around my middle and pulled me back into him. “You were right. My body wants your body. Do you feel that?” he asked as he dipped to grind his hips into my backside. “Take your clothes off.”

There was no sweetness to the request. No tenderness in the sentiment. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, I saw a chair to my right and I went to it, pulling away from his touch. I didn't say a word, automatically doing as I was instructed.

Something about it felt fair. Felt right. I didn't deserve his kindness. I was a cheater. I was a liar. I was a bitch who called someone a friend to be spiteful.

I undressed and I'd never felt more naked—more exposed—despite being cloaked in darkness where he couldn't observe my body. I could barely see his naked form and he loomed like a brooding statue. He wasn't moving, and I couldn't even tell if he was watching me. I could only see his flesh in contrast to the pitch black in my hotel room.

“The ring, too.” Systematically, I slid it off and it made a tinkling sound as the metal hit the top of the table next to the chair. He reacted to the sound like a runner would a starting block at a race. The second my ears registered it, I felt him. His bare skin against mine. I was malleable. He was solid and unyielding. His thighs hit me in the ass and they felt as hard as stone.

His hands found my hips and walked me forward until my knees hit the bed. Casey leaned in closer and said, “This is what you wanted, Blake. This is anatomical.” He turned me around then pressed me forward until my hands came out in front of me to steady myself on the bed.

“So that's what you're getting from me. This is only my body.” His hand again wrapped around my middle and cupped my sex. After rubbing back and forth over my tender, hypersensitive skin he said, “I suppose this is what you wanted, you're already so wet.”

I hadn't paid any attention. Was I really aroused? For the past ten minutes I'd been held hostage by my screaming mind, I didn't even notice how his behavior was affecting me physically.

Just as he slipped a finger between my slick skin, I panted his name, “Casey?” He must have heard the alarm in my voice, too, because he eased up the pressure and stilled his hand.

“Yes,” he said evenly.

“Are you angry with me? I don't want to do this when you're mad. I don't know you that well. I know we've met, hell we've already had sex. We send each other messages, but I'm a little scared.”

“You're scared? Of what?” he asked. His voice was still level and calm but it didn't sound as sharp as it had.

I admitted. “You. This. Do you want to hurt me? I don't know you like this.”

Before he spoke, he took a deep breath as if to collect himself. “I don't know me like this either.” His hand moved smooth strokes over my skin, in a more sensual way. “You drive me crazy,” he said as he stood me up and turned me back around, his other hand never pausing, gently kneading my breast.

Being face to face, I felt compelled to reach out for him. I wrapped my arms around his waist and reeled him in closer to me.

“You give off mixed signals. I'm always trying to read you,” he admitted. He sounded as frustrated as I was.

Heat spread to my outer limbs as a building need grew inside me. I didn't say anything.

He continued, “But see, I guess you like this too.” He kissed my collarbone and sucked. “You call me a friend, then invite me up for more than friendly activities. You act like you only want something physical from me, yet when I don't speak to you and hide myself from you, you become submissive and turned on.”

His mouth continued lower until he was kneeling in from of me, gripping my breast and softly biting at my nipple with hooded teeth. “Now, when I dial it back and touch you like I've been dreaming about, you practically melt in my hand,” he said.

Both of my hands found his head and I ran my fingers through his curly hair and onto his scorching shoulders.

His voice had softened, but it was still laced with turmoil when he said, “I only want to give you what you want. You just have to tell me what that is.” His mouth kissed my hipbone. Then Casey drew a deep breath through his nose. “You smell so f*cking good.”