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.