Текст книги "Burn It Up"
Автор книги: Cara McKenna
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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 24 страниц)
“And get this straight,” Casey said slowly, precisely. “You want to see her, you go through me. Nobody else. Not my brother, not my business partner. I don’t want to hear about you bullying my customers for information, and definitely not my motherfucking family, you got that?”
Ware smiled, the gesture all nails and rust. “Yeah. I got it, big man. I cool off. I call you. We work this shit out.”
“Good.” Inside, he was shaking, but on the outside his body felt hard and coiled and ready to snap. He’d never known what protectiveness could do to a man. He’d always made it a point not to get attached to anything—or anyone.
“We’ll talk soon,” Ware said evenly, and turned away.
Casey memorized the digits on Ware’s plate while the guy climbed into his truck, and waited until he had disappeared completely down the road before he walked back to his bike, abandoning his plans to check on the bar. His body was humming, right down in his guts and bones; his nails had bitten red marks in his palms. He’d deal with Dancer later. That shit could wait, as could the DNA tests and everything else. Right now all he wanted was to see Abilene and the baby, to confirm they were safe and sound, maybe never leave their sides again.
And one thing seemed goddamn certain, he thought as he stomped on his starter.
That cocksucker isn’t getting anywhere near them. Not while there’s still blood pumping through this body.
Chapter 10
Abilene woke slowly, unsure at first where she was.
That happened a lot at Three C. That had happened a lot during a rather dark period of her short life, as well, though now as she blinked blearily at the walls and windows, the room that came into focus was pleasant and familiar. The same couldn’t be said for some of the holes she’d come to in.
The guest room was dim—its two windows were west facing, and when she’d nodded off it had been from the heat of the dipping sun. Now it was dark, the sky nearly black, and just the one soft bulb in the reading lamp by the bed was on, casting the room in its weak glow. She sat up and eyed the clock on the dresser. Not even seven, thankfully. Dinner wasn’t usually until eight, and she liked to help when she could, setting the table at the very least—
A soft knock sounded at the door. She smoothed her hair, rose, and tiptoed over, expecting Christine or Miah. She was surprised to find Casey there instead. He was in his socks, his shoes and jacket presumably abandoned in the Churches’ front hall.
“Hey,” she whispered, letting him know Mercy was asleep. “Thought you were out until after supper.”
“Something came up, so I rushed back.”
She went cold in a beat, right down to her bare toes. “What?”
He came inside and shut the door quietly. “Your ex came after me.”
Her eyes made a frantic inventory of him, searching for scrapes or cuts or rips in his clothes. “Came after you?”
“Nothing violent. Here, sit down.” He nodded to the bed.
She sat cross-legged, facing him squarely, expecting him to sit as well. Instead he strode to the crib, bracing his hands on the rail and staring down at the baby.
“Casey, you’re scaring me.”
He straightened, turned. “Sorry.”
She patted the covers. “Sit.”
He took a seat at the bed’s edge, rubbing his thighs.
“Tell me.”
“He was waiting in the lot when I stopped by the bar, barely a half hour ago. He knew who I was—Vince’s brother, and your boss. He wanted to know where you and the baby were.”
She hugged herself, the room feeling cold and too dark.
“I didn’t tell him, of course. I said to call me when he cooled down and could talk like a reasonable person.”
“He was angry, then.”
“Very. He took the number and climbed in his truck and rode off, after we traded some words. I think he’ll call. I hope he will, at least. Though I won’t lie. Before, I thought getting the two of you together to hash shit out was the only sensible course of action. Now that I’ve met him . . .”
“He’s intimidating,” she offered. A trait she’d found both terrifying and reassuring, depending on who had most recently pissed James off.
“He’s more than that,” Casey said. “He’s intense in a way I don’t like one fucking bit.”
She nodded to the baby, admonishing the swear. What a losing battle that was turning out to be.
“Sorry.”
“So you’ve changed your mind? You don’t think I should talk to him?”
“Man, I don’t even know.” He rubbed his face, worked his fingers through his beard, sighed. “On paper it’s the smart way to go. But I won’t lie, honey. He scares me. It scares me to imagine setting up some talk, and him hurting you or threatening you. But keeping you hidden’s no solution either. I dunno. I need some time to digest it all.”
“Sure.” She’d never seen him so rattled, and it worried her in turn. Casey was usually the picture of laid-back, always prepared to downplay any seriousness with a joke or trash-talking. She crawled across the bed to sit close. Instinct told her to touch him, to circle a palm on his back as she might do to Mercy when the baby was upset, but she kept both hands clasped safely in her lap. “Did he say anything else?” Anything about me, about my past?
“No.”
Inside, she heaved a sigh of relief. “He’s a real nasty piece of work,” she offered. “Sorry you had to run into him.”
“Better me than you. And better for all of us that we know he’s in town, and what he wants.”
True. Not knowing had been worse, in a way. But now having him only miles from her and the baby . . .
“I’m real sorry you’re even caught up in all this,” she said.
He met her eyes squarely, the mere look rousing goose bumps. “I was about to say the same to you. Don’t you be sorry at all. I’m not sorry for a second that you’re not out there by yourself, with nobody to help you.”
That alone had tears brewing. She blinked and a fat one fell to the covers. Casey offered a smile, but he had it wrong—she wasn’t crying from fear or stress or anything bad, really. It was gratitude that had her cheeks burning and her throat tight. Relief that, just as he’d said, she wasn’t in this by herself.
She knew what had to be done. She had to talk to James. If she refused, he’d get angry enough or desperate enough to punish her, perhaps tell Casey the truth about her. Moreover, she needed to break those old habits and be brave for a change. Running and hiding had always been her default, but that had to stop—now.
“When he calls,” she said, “I’ll speak with him. Not in person—but I’ll talk on the phone.” Just having said it, she felt a little stronger, not quite as helpless.
“When he calls,” Casey echoed, “I’ll tell him you’re willing to talk. But I’ll make him call back at a specified time—no need for him to know exactly how close you and I are. Proximity-wise, I mean,” he added quickly.
She nodded.
Casey leaned closer, his shoulder bumping hers. “You okay?”
“I’m scared,” she admitted. And of so much more than you could guess.
“I won’t let him hurt you—you or Mercy. I promise you that.”
“I know.” Promise me no matter what he might say to you, you won’t turn your back on me. Far too much to ask, though, and she knew it. She stretched out on the bed, and Casey did the same. She wondered how close their hands might be, and whether the body heat she sensed was a figment or not.
Casey cleared his throat, spoke to the ceiling. “Can I ask you something that’s none of my business?”
“I guess so.”
After a pause, “How did you wind up with him, to begin with?” He turned his head to catch her eye.
Fudge. “We met during a really . . . hard period of my life. I guess I needed somebody strong, when I was feeling so weak. And I mistook violence for strength.”
“You swear to God he never hurt you?”
She shook her head, hair mussing against the pillow.
“Doesn’t have to leave a mark on the outside to count as abuse, you know.”
She bit her lip, then spoke a grain of truth. “I’ve never had the best instincts, when it comes to guys.”
“How so?”
“I guess I’m just one of those stupid girls who’s always falling for the bad boy or whatever.”
“You’re not stupid.”
“I’m not all that wise, either. If I was, maybe I’d learn from my mistakes.” Though she was learning, she reminded herself. She’d been weak the other night and let her old urges propel her into Casey’s arms, but she was smart enough now to at least realize what a bad idea that had been.
“It’s never too late to start.” Casey fell silent for a long moment, then spoke softly. “I need to say something to you.”
“What?”
He stared up at the beams. “I lied to you, yesterday morning. Sort of.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t remember what I said, about what happened between us. The kissing. Probably something about it not needing to be a big deal.” He turned his face to hers once more. “But it did mean something. To me. Something more than just . . . you know. What it was.”
Her heart was beating hard all at once, body warm, hopes rising. “Me, too.”
“You and I can’t—or shouldn’t—date. For a dozen good reasons. Most importantly, because I don’t have what it takes to be any kind of role model to your daughter.”
“Oh.” And here she’d been expecting the lame, most obvious argument about him being her boss. “You don’t have to explain . . . even if I can’t quite see why you think that. You’ve been wonderful with her, since the night she was born.”
“It’s complicated. But it boils down to the fact that I don’t know where I’ll be in a few years.”
“Who does, really?” She kept her words casual, voice light, though inside she felt all coiled up with hope and desperation, aching to beg him to change his mind. To think they stood some kind of chance. In a blink, all that wanting was back. At least this time, with this man, it was real. A genuine, deeply physical attraction, and not some ploy to attach herself to a guy for the sake of having somewhere to stay and somebody to protect her. Casey had been looking out for her for weeks before they’d ever kissed, and any money she got from him, she earned. They couldn’t be anything serious—on that they agreed, even if she didn’t entirely understand his reasons.
Where exactly did that leave them, though?
He sighed heavily and turned onto his side, gaze dropping to the covers or her arm.
“You don’t have to tell me,” she said. “I’m only curious. Like, is this to do with whatever you used to do for money?” She doubted that whatever his old, shady dealings had been, they could be worse than gunrunning. If anything, she didn’t want to know. Not if they were never going to be something real, anyhow.
“It’s nothing to do with that,” Casey said. “My future’s just uncertain.”
It was obvious there was something he wasn’t telling her, something important. But there was plenty she wasn’t saying, either—things she planned never to share with him. Maybe it was selfishness; maybe it was self-preservation. Maybe it was wrong and deceptive and toxic to do so, but it was also a survival instinct. Maybe it was because the opening up of closets was a ritual reserved for couples.
Whatever the case, Christ in heaven, she was tired of secrets. Keeping them was like lugging a hundred pounds of armor around with you. Secrets kept people apart, even as they might stand side by side . . . Or lie in the same bed, she thought, letting herself register just how close their bodies were. She remembered the taste of his kiss, the feel of his mouth. The heat and insistence of him when she’d touched him there. She flushed.
“So the other night meant something,” Abilene whispered at length. “Was there more to that thought?”
He swallowed, gaze moving to her face.
“It meant something,” she said. “But we can’t ever be serious. So what does that leave?”
“Aside from sexual frustration?” he asked, then smiled, tempering all the seriousness.
“I was never after forever with you,” she said, realizing it was the truth. “I know I come with more baggage than most men are willing to take on.” She’d only wanted a taste of what romance could feel like, with someone who treated her as Casey did. Just a taste. She’d had that now, though her body still wanted more, wanted to take things further, feel it all.
“That’s not—”
She shook her head, in no need of whatever he’d been about to offer—a contradiction, an excuse, an apology. None of them mattered. “I only wanted to know what it would feel like, with you. With somebody who makes me feel what you do. Even for just a little while. A week or a day, or a single night. Just for as long as that kiss lasted.”
Even in the dimness, she could see him blushing. It made her bold. Here was the moment when her selective and self-serving bravery did kick in—when a man tipped his hand, offered a little peek at his cards. When she could sense that a woman’s body just might trump a guy’s best intentions.
And it always does, doesn’t it?
“You can’t make any promises,” she murmured, turning onto her side to face him fully. “And I don’t have any expectations. That makes us sound awful compatible just now—don’t you think?”
He swallowed, gaze seeking her eyes, her mouth, her breasts.
“I liked everything that happened the other night,” she said, meeting his eyes on the final word. “Everything except for when it stopped.”
Again, he swallowed, lips parting and looking fuller. Surely this professional gambler had a poker face to be reckoned with, but just now he was an open book. “Did you?”
She nodded.
“So did I,” he said. “More than I thought I should tell you.”
“I’m not as delicate as you think I am.” She might wind up with a broken heart at the end of this non-courtship, but she’d lived through far worse.
He edged nearer, and she thrilled when his knee nudged hers. She opened her legs, welcoming his warm, heavy thigh. The contact was more sweet than sexy, matching the caution on his handsome face. She scooted close. He cupped her cheek and studied her lips for a long moment before meeting them with his own.
Her eyes shut, and she felt his collar in her grip, the top button of his shirt, a soft tease of chest hair against her knuckles. She wanted his shirt gone, and a chance to touch the unknown planes of his body. Wanted him completely naked, and excited. Wanted him hard and hot and begging for her.
“You just fucking love to feel wanted, don’t you?”
James had laid that on her, spat those words in the midst of the fight that had her leaving him for good. Nothing stung quite like the truth. Nothing cut with so jagged an edge. She did love to feel wanted. It went beyond vanity, went someplace darker and deeper and uglier, but she hungered for that. Craved that power that no girl with her unassuming smarts or charms or looks would ever be expected to possess.
“Never give a man everything he’s after,” her grandmother had told her. “There’s far worse words for a girl to be called than ‘tease.’ Hold a little something back. Dogs are happiest when they’re hunting, so don’t get caught until it’s on your terms.”
She tried to imagine explaining this philosophy to Raina, on one of those nights back when they’d worked together. While Raina intimidated the crap out of her, she was also a bit in awe of how her old boss managed to go through the world caring so little what others thought. Saying what she liked, needing nobody. What would Raina counter her grandma’s wisdom with?
Hey, if you want to date dogs, by all means, knock yourself out. I’ll just be over here, fucking a grown-ass man.
Yeah, that sounded about right. And was probably fair. But Raina had more leverage in this world than Abilene did—looks, means, confidence, an established role in the place she called home. Playing games with guys might be deceitful and manipulative, but when it was the only tool you had . . .
Still, Abilene had no desire to play those games with Casey. There was no future for them, nothing at stake. Nothing standing in the way.
She kissed him deeper, welcomed his tongue. Imagined that he was her first boyfriend, that everything was how it should be. A do-over to fix her entire sexual history, make it all right.
She touched his face and hair, fascinated. He was so much more than good-looking to her. This was the first man—the first person—who’d held her daughter, the first face Mercy ever saw, first voice she’d heard. Maybe those things were making her project more onto this attraction than was wise, but it felt so good, she just wanted to stay lost in the rush. Never come up for air.
His hand roamed down her side, then eased up beneath her sweater to rest at the middle of her back. Through her shirt she felt the warmth of his skin—he radiated heat like no one she’d ever met. Like a permanent fever. She touched him in turn, rubbing his chest, tugging at the snaps of his shirt one by one, until she had it spread open and his blazing bare skin was under her palm. His breaths quickened and his kisses grew stilted, distracted.
“Take your sweater off, honey,” he murmured, pulling back.
She did, tugging her long-sleeved tee back down over her belly. He wrapped his arms around her, kneaded at her back, his mouth hot on her neck, beard tickling. She held his head and shut her eyes, replayed every moan and cuss he’d let her hear when they’d first messed around.
What’s changed? she had to wonder. This man panting at her throat was different. While on Monday he’d been hesitant, even a little resistant, now he felt eager and possessive. Hungry.
She drew her fingers through his hair, mesmerized. “Tell me what you need.”
“I don’t even know.” His words were all but lost against her neck. “Just you. Here.”
Her own needs, exactly. Just to feel this, in the midst of everything else that was happening. Something simple, primal, to banish the chaos for a little while.
She slid lower along his body, leveling their hips. He kissed her while she admired him, her hands taking in the curve of his back, the firm muscle of his butt, the heat of his skin beneath his shirt. Her thigh was locked around his, and when he began to move, she felt him—excited and hard behind his jeans.
For a long moment, everything was friction and heat. Then all at once, Casey stilled, pulling away enough to meet her eyes.
“The baby,” he murmured, nodding to the corner as he caught his breath.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s weird. Isn’t it?”
“Parents have been doing it for centuries. She can’t even see.” There was a blanket draped over the side of the crib to block the glow of the reading lamp. “Just try to stay quiet.” Abilene was aching to see that, actually—the strain on Casey’s face as he struggled to stifle his sounds, his excitement.
“It’ll be dinner soon. Someone could knock.”
“Christine almost never does—it’s too likely me or the baby are napping.” And precisely who was this man, suddenly so concerned with propriety?
“But when she doesn’t see either of us,” Casey said, “she might get worried.”
She sensed it was a different person’s worries that had him hesitating—his own. She’d seen this look in too many men’s eyes to mistake it. The look of a guy who didn’t always do the right thing trying desperately to figure out just how out-of-bounds things were about to get. And whatever he might say on the matter, this man was better than most. But she couldn’t bear it if he chose to be good tonight.
Bad always felt so damn much better.
“Please, don’t make this stop.” She was begging—it was in her voice, probably in her eyes as well. “It feels too nice.” Too real and easy, while reality was so uncertain.
Casey hesitated. “I guess we have a little while, still . . .”
She took that as a green light, drawing his mouth back to hers. And no matter his concerns, he was still stiff when she cupped her hand between them. He moaned against her lips, and his hips pressed him harder along her palm.
She worried he’d halt her when she went for his belt, but he didn’t. Once the buckle was freed and she was fussing with the button of his fly, he surprised her. Edged her hand away and did the job himself, then pushed his jeans low on his hips. He led her back to his cock, wrapping her fingers around him through his shorts. He made a sound, a pained little sigh, as she stroked him, then put his mouth to her neck once again, kissing roughly between hungry breaths.
“You feel good,” she whispered.
“So do you. Just tell me where I can touch you. Please. I fucking love your body.”
She blushed, hot with nerves and pleasure. “I’m not sure. I guess, wherever you like, and I’ll just tell you if it’s too much. Just . . . just through my clothes, for now.” Only one other time in her life had she felt this insecure about being naked before a man, and that had been with James. Though the circumstances—and indeed her physical flaws—couldn’t be more different.
“Your breasts?”
They weren’t as oversensitive as they had been, though the thought still gave her pause. “You can try, if you’re gentle. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”
His hand slid from her collarbone to her breast, cupping, nothing more. The heat of him alone sent a shockwave through her, tensing her body atop the covers and her fingers around his cock.
“Too much?”
She shook her head, managed a nearly noiseless, “No.”
He offered a soft squeeze, and pleasure bloomed, if shyly.
“That’s nice.”
“Good. You feel nice.” His touch echoed his words, full of reverence and care and curiosity. She settled into the caresses, letting the last of her worry melt away against him.
Her own hand had gone still on his cock, and she could feel his hips flexing, aching for more but not forcing it. She gave him a long, light stroke, reveling in his reaction. His entire body tensed, then softened, breath coming quicker. She offered a slow pull, squeezing him tighter and earning a moan.
“Fuck, it’s hot.” He stripped his shirt clean away. His skin was fair, flushed pink here and there, just as she’d imagined.
“Here,” he breathed, and reached between them to push the front of his shorts down and release his bare cock into her hand. His skin was hot and smooth, flesh hard. Her body responded, hunger rousing deep in her belly. Everything intensified as he cupped her breast once more—his sounds, his caresses, every muscle. Those hips pushed him deep into each of her strokes, mimicking sex, setting her on fire.
“Casey.”
“Too much?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Can I take your pants off?”
She hesitated. “I feel a little weird about my body. It’s so different, since the baby. I’m not saying no, just—”
“Would you feel better if we got under the covers, maybe?”
She considered it, nodded. “Yeah.”
They wrestled their way beneath the blanket, and she did feel more secure, more protected, as they pulled it up to their armpits.
Casey got his jeans kicked away, and when his hands went to her waistband, her fly, she didn’t stop him. Let him ease her corduroys down her thighs, then pushed them the rest of the way off with her toes. She was okay with her legs, but the tee was staying on. Even in the dark, even under the covers, even with this man . . . she wasn’t there yet. Maybe especially with this man. The stakes hadn’t ever felt so high with a guy before.
You’ve never been with one who treats you like this one does. Who treated her like a grown woman, instead of some lost girl in need of rescue or exploitation.
He got above her, planting his knees between her legs. “Okay?”
All she could do was nod. It took her breath away, this feeling—shocked her, like a full-body memory. To be spread open like this, and to feel a man’s excitement there, with the safety of their underwear still in place. She could handle this blunt and muted contact better than the explicit, focused attention of his fingers or mouth. She didn’t want to be mastered or taught by a lover anymore. She wanted this. Exploring and experimenting, trying things out, seeing what felt good.
And this felt wonderful. A deeper desire was stirring, a first taste of that aggressive, almost angry sensation between her legs. The urgency of sexual need. But even more intoxicating than that was the promise of what it meant—that she could still feel these things, things she’d set aside for months. For nearly a year of her life, after having been a highly sexual person for so long.
He was braced on straight arms, and she stroked the muscles there, memorizing the shapes of his biceps and forearms and shoulders. She hugged his hips with her thighs and urged him to move. When he did, she shut her eyes and fantasized.
Images flashed, the sorts of thoughts she hadn’t entertained so vividly in so long. How a man looked, during sex. The way his hips flexed and his chest muscles tightened, the way his arms and face strained as his cock rushed in and out, again and again. The way his lips parted, and the dark shadows that marked the joining of two bodies. Not romance—biology. More pornography than valentine, and so exactly what she’d been needing to take back, to reclaim.
Her softer feelings for Casey had never faded, but this . . . All this, she’d missed. The ferocity of attraction. That thing that castrated reason and had her wanting far more than she’d planned on—their underwear shoved away and his cock inside her, his body hammering. No thoughts of condoms or any other smart thing, just beastly need.
It was only her deepest self-conscious worries that held her back. That, and the very real reminder of what consequences came with such recklessness—the biggest and most life-changing consequence she’d ever weathered, asleep only paces away. That held her back from pure abandon. But it didn’t quell the need to see this man, precisely this way.
She urged his hips with her hands. “You feel amazing.”
“And you’re driving me fucking crazy,” he whispered, then took her mouth in a moment’s messy, hungry kiss.
She spoke against his lips. “I wish I could give you more.”
He straightened, shaking his head, eyes shut. “You’re perfect. This is perfect.”
“I’m imagining more,” she confessed.
“Yeah?”
“I’ve imagined everything, with you. Before the baby, and now again. I forgot how good it feels, wanting someone so much.”
“Honey.” He muttered it like an oath, like a dirty little prayer, and his body seemed to speed of its own will. “We can do anything you want. Anything you’re up for.”
“Tell me what you want. Even if I can’t go there . . . I want to hear you say it.” Just like when he’d been merely a boss and coworker to her, when the most contact they shared was his hand on her back as he slipped behind her to grab a glass or reach the register. She’d wondered then if he still wanted her, ever. If he still thought of her that way, and what he might want to do with her. “Tell me. Anything.”
He lowered to his forearms, elbows tucked up tight beside her ribs, hips pumping fast. He was so hard, he had to be aching.
“I want to fuck you. You have to know that.”
She had, once upon a time, before he’d found out she was pregnant. But he’d done so well to suppress it, since.
Yet it was still true, wasn’t it? Even after everything they’d been through. She’d never have imagined any man short of a husband could muster the loyalty to go there.
Guess I didn’t count on Casey Grossier.
“Bet you’re soft,” he whispered, lips barely an inch above hers, his breath sweet. “And warm. And wet.”
Right now she was all three. But there were things she wasn’t, anymore. That awful, loaded little word she’d both coveted and resented, formed by too many lovers’ lips. Tight.
Such an ugly adjective, yet entrenched so deeply with what she represented to the men she attracted—innocence, some promise that her defiling was theirs alone to bestow. That word came part and parcel when you looked younger than your years, when you had a small frame and a sugary accent, when you were born with eyes that sent messages without your blessing, telling the world you were one way. James was the first man she’d been with who’d not treated her like some virginal cherub—and with good reason. The way they’d met, she hadn’t exactly been the picture of purity.
“I’d die to be inside you,” Casey murmured, voice low and strained.
It was with both bravery and fear that she spoke the truth. “I’m not ready for that yet. I’m sorry.” Much as she wanted to see, even feel it, much as she wanted to please him, she couldn’t. Not yet.
He smiled down at her, body stilling. “Don’t be sorry. Last thing I want is to do something you’re not into.”
“Thanks.” It wasn’t as though she hadn’t been with men who’d been content with the opposite. “I like making you feel good. It feels as good as sex to me, just now.”
“Can I keep going?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
He paused to get his shorts off, and when the blanket slipped away, she seized that moment to memorize his naked body in the low light. He pulled the covers back over them, surely for discretion and not warmth—the room felt about a hundred degrees now.
He stroked against her, and the motions of his body and the friction through her underwear was as explicit as actual sex, after walling these feelings off for so long.
“Does it feel okay for you?” he whispered.
“It feels amazing.” Truly amazing—she’d forgotten the way the desire gathered, spurred by every sense. Beyond the thrill of his rushing cock, there was the feel of his bare skin under her palms, the weight and heat of him above her, the sounds of his panting, the smell of him, the divine spectacle of his strained face. She drew that face close and kissed his mouth, needing to taste him. He groaned softly, hips speeding.
And all at once, she felt it—a rushing, building pressure, that warm wash of sensation.
Holy shit. She was going to come. She hugged his waist a little higher, seeking the friction that had the pleasure rushing low and hot and frantic.
“Casey.”
She had no other words. She could only clasp the back of his neck and grip his arm, and hold on tight. He caught on in a blink—realized what was happening. His body tightened and the motions intensified, his pursuit going from pleasure-seeking to a focused mission. His every breath was a stifled moan now, desperate little seething huffs escaping in time with his racing hips. Her shirt had ridden up, and his head glanced her belly with every thrust. She could feel slickness there, evidence of how close he had to be himself. And that was what did her in, in the end.
