Burn It Up(52)

The way he held her, she couldn’t reach his mouth, but her lips teased his throat. Her tongue, a little rasp of her teeth. He shivered at that tiny taste of aggression from this sweet, hesitant girl, and let her hear how it excited him. She gave more, and his hips rushed. February was gone—their bellies and thighs were slick, the room like a sauna. He wanted to stay here tonight, sleep in this bed, keep the smell of their two bodies and this sex fogging his senses as he dropped off to sleep beside her.

He buried his face in her hair and moaned. “You’re gonna make me come.” It might be his body driving into hers, but that mouth on his neck was making him crazy. “Say my name.”

She did, her breath hot on his skin. He could only moan in reply, and turn everything over to his dick. His hips were pounding, sloppy and fast, frantic, chasing relief.

She whispered it again. “Casey.” Her hand was on his arm, gripping, thumb stroking. She was excited. Maybe not near the brink, but turned on—no mistaking it. He imagined next time, imagined her coming on his cock, saying his name, begging him not to stop. Or perhaps just her hands on him, her breath rushing, her eyes closed. He fantasized about all of it, until he felt that tether inside of him snapping, aggression and urgency going slack as the pleasure dropped him into free fall.

“Honey.” He was half on top of her, hips racing him home, body slapping. He’d forgotten how it felt. How f*cking good it was, losing it inside a woman, face-to-face. He crested from need to ecstasy and to marrow-deep relief in one long, wringing rush, then came down slowly, reeling.

Her hold on his arm softened, and he realized he might be squishing her. He eased out and rolled onto his back, folded the condom into the shorts he’d tossed on the floor. The sheets were cool on his shoulders and back, and he shoved the covers down to his waist, burning up.

“Goddamn.”

Abilene turned over and laid an arm along his chest. He closed her hand in his, pressing it to his heart so she could feel it pounding. He side-eyed her. “You trying to kill me, honey?”

She smiled. “Never.”

His laugh came out in a soft rush of breath. “Jesus, I guess I needed that.”

“You deserved it.”

He shook his head, thumped their hands atop his chest. “No. Nobody’s entitled to sex. Nobody owes sex. You just have to be happy when it falls in your lap.”

“And are you happy?”

“Fucking ecstatic.” He squeezed her fingers, then drew them to his mouth and kissed them.

She snuggled closer, locking a leg over his. “Good.”

“Tell me that’ll happen again.”

“I sure hope so.”

Better add condoms to the shopping list.

“You sleeping in here again tonight?” she whispered.

“I want that if you do.”

“Of course I do. But people are going to catch on soon.”

“So let them. I don’t care. Do you?”

She didn’t answer right away.

“Abilene?”

“I don’t know if I care or not. It’s just that . . . We agreed this can’t be anything serious, is all. I wouldn’t know what to tell people, if they asked.” She didn’t sound fretful, merely puzzled. “What would you tell them?”

He considered it. Imagined Christine grilling him over morning coffee. “I think I’d probably say that you and I are getting close. Leave it at that.”

“Oh.” A pause. “That’s nice. I like that.”

“And it’s true, right?” He turned back to his side, pulling the length of her body to his, splaying his fingers along her back, possessive.

“Yeah. It’s true. This is as close as I’ve gotten to anybody in a long time.”

Close as you were with Ware? James Ware was cut from a similar cloth as Casey’s brother—he was like Vince with no sense of humor, and it was tough to imagine such men letting women turn them soft. But of course Vince had managed it with Kim. They’d been together for months, and weathered some pretty ugly stuff between the casino chaos and living with Vince and Casey’s mom, yet Casey didn’t see any cracks forming between them. So maybe Ware was capable of it, too. Though he preferred to imagine the man had never treated Abilene as he could. That no man had ever lain with her just this way, talked this way.

Such a f*cking goner.

Abilene squeezed his hand, then let it go, rolling away. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where you off to?” He studied her naked body before it was swallowed up by her shirt and pajamas, memorizing the soft swells of her breasts, belly, butt, calves.

“Bathroom.” She smiled at him as she smoothed her hair, then slipped out of the room.

Casey stared up at the beams ribbing the sloped ceiling, then shut his eyes. Breathed it all in. Felt the cool air on his chest, the warm covers around his waist and legs.

A thought struck him with such ferocious clarity, he got chills.

Please, don’t let me go crazy.

A few months ago he’d walked through his life with that same prayer running on a loop in the back of his head, but his reasons for wishing it had been selfish. He hadn’t wanted to be pitied, hadn’t wanted to be dependent, hadn’t wanted to lose his mind before he could enjoy the money he’d made, and more recently, before he had a chance to see the bar succeed. Now it felt different. It had begun feeling different ever since he’d kissed this woman, hadn’t it? What else could explain his sudden, impulsive urge on that very same night, the one that’d finally had him ordering the genetic testing kit?