Burn It Up(49)

“I know what you mean,” he whispered, and kissed her lower lip. “You’ve gone a long time not wanting like this. I’ve gone a long time not feeling this.”

“Feeling what?”

“Everything,” he said, the answer meaning nothing, yet so much. He climbed on top of her. Her thighs hugged his waist, urging him to move, and with two short strokes, his jeans were a straitjacket.

He’d never pressure her to do anything she wasn’t ready for, but he couldn’t hide what he desired, either. “I want you,” he whispered. “So bad.”

“I want you, too.”

“Tell me,” he said, rubbing against her, slow and light, “that someday, we’ll go there together. That I can touch you there. Or use my mouth. Or be inside you.”

She softened beneath him, legs going slack. Those blue eyes were bright even in the near dark, and her stare stilled his hips. “Why not tonight?” she asked.

In a breath, Casey was overheated. “Tonight?”

“If you have condoms, that is.” She looked shy at that, and he had to smile. He’d seen her give birth, yet she was still embarrassed to say condom in front of him.

“I think I do. Can you hang on a minute?”

She nodded.

Casey prayed the den would be empty as he slipped out the door. As he stepped onto the landing, he found he wasn’t in luck—the TV was on, volume low, and Christine and Don were sitting together on the couch. He wondered how flushed his face must be as he started down the steps.

Christine looked over as he neared. “Needing the couch? Our show’s nearly over.”

“No, no. Just my shaving bag.”

“Shaving bag?” Don asked, chuckling. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten what a razor was.”

“Don’t get excited—I just need my toothbrush.” He crouched before his duffel and dug for the nylon pouch, thinking he might just escape without interrogation until—

“How’s Abilene doing?” Christine asked.

He got to his feet. “Pretty good. Relieved, I think.” And let them assume he was sequestered in her room for moral support, please and thanks. “The baby’s taking it easy on her tonight, at least.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah. Anyhow, see you tomorrow.” And with that, he hurried to the steps. He stopped in the guest bathroom, thinking he might as well brush his teeth, swerve and avoid the lie. As he did, he poked through the inside pockets of his shaving bag and found precisely one condom. He couldn’t even remember whom he might’ve been seeing when he’d bothered to pack it, but it wasn’t expired so he beamed a little thank-you to that forgotten woman. He spat and rinsed and stole back into Abilene’s room with the plastic square clinging to his sweaty palm.

She sat up as he entered, expression expectant.

He flipped the condom up between two fingers like a playing card, a little sleight-of-hand trick he’d taught himself when he was ten.

“We don’t have to use this,” he said firmly, setting it on the side table, “if you think you’re not ready. It’ll just be here, in case you decide you are.” He undid his belt and pushed his jeans down.

“I’m ready.” She welcomed him back under the covers. “Just nervous.”

He edged close, locking their legs together. “What about?”

“My body just doesn’t feel the way it used to, before the baby.”

“Ah. Well, I made you come yesterday, right?”

She nodded.

Casey got back on top, bracing his arms at her sides and his knees astride hers, hovering. Smiling. “You hadn’t expected you would,” he prompted.

“No.”

“Did it make you feel like you got your body back, just a little?”

She thought about it. “Yeah, I guess it did.”

“And maybe whatever happens tonight will get a little more of it back.”

“Maybe.”

“Abilene,” he said, his face so close to hers, their noses touched. “There’s nothing I want more right now than to make you feel good. Whatever that looks like, I want to do that. Be that for you. You willing to let me try?”

Another nod.

“Can I touch you?”

“Okay.”

He kissed her, lightly at first, deeper, then pulled away to settle between her legs on his knees. She let him undo the bow of her drawstring and ease her pajamas away. His breath grew shallow at a moment’s peek between her legs. No panties, just her, obscured by the shadows. He could smell her, as well, if faintly. Christ, he’d forgotten that scent. His cock went from pulsing to pounding in a single heartbeat. He stroked her from her calves to her thighs, loving the feel of her. Soft skin, soft flesh, everything perfect, right down to the little Band-Aid on her knee. When she twitched, he made the touch firmer.

“Better?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so—”

“Don’t apologize to me again.”

She bit her lip, as though she’d nearly apologized for apologizing. “Or else what?”

“Or else something mean,” he said softly, still stroking her legs. “I dunno what yet, but something awful. Maybe I’ll sing to you.”