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“Shut up,” she says, tears streaming down her cheeks as she slaps me again. “I know what it was, but how dare you do that to me? How dare you make me do that to you?” She slaps me again, three times in rapid succession, but none of them do more than sting my bare skin. “I could have killed you!”
I reach up, grabbing her wrists as she tries to slap me again. “No, you couldn’t have. I told you to strangle me, not stake me. I was perfectly safe.”
“You’re a perfect asshole,” she says, tugging against my grip. “Let me go, I’m not done hitting you yet.”
“You don’t want to hit me.”
“I do,” she insists, squirming her wrists back and forth. “I want to hit you and hit you and keep hitting you until you care about me and try harder not to die.”
Her words hit my chest like a bullet from a gun. “Sweetheart, I care so much. More than I’ve ever cared for anyone or anything.”
“Bullshit,” she says, openly weeping now. “If you really cared you wouldn’t be able to leave me alone every night. You’d want to be with me as much as I want to be with you. You’d be spending every second you have left with me, helping me figure out how to break this curse and loving me the way I love you.”
“Of course, I love you, Cassandra,” I say, tears stinging the backs of my eyes. “How can you doubt that? Even for a moment?” I guide her captured hands to my chest, over my heart. “I know you feel it, how perfect it is when we’re together, how right.”
She shakes her head, sniffing harder. “I don’t want to just feel it. I want you to say it and to show it. I want you to kiss me because you can’t stand not kissing me, not because people are watching and you’re trying to sell our engagement as the real deal.” Her breath hitches as she sobs, “I want it to be the real deal because I love you, too, you jerk, even though you’re a bossy asshole when you’re scared, and you made me hurt you.”
“You didn’t hurt me,” I say, releasing her wrists and gathering her close. “I hurt me. You had nothing to do with it. I just had to show you why we have to be so careful, baby. If Priscilla gets to you or Amy…” My arms tighten around her slim frame as she continues to cry. “I would never forgive myself. It would haunt me forever, for the rest of my life and whatever comes next.”
She lifts her beautiful, tear-streaked face. “What comes next is you make love to me, and you don’t stop until you realize that holding me at a distance isn’t an option anymore. I’m all in, Edmond, and I’m not giving up on you without a fight.”
And then she kisses me, our first real, no holds barred kiss since the night we met, and it’s even more earth-shattering than I remember. Her sweet, smoky taste fills my mouth as her tongue spars with mine, and my self-control evaporates in a rush of heat.
I reach for the close of her pants as she reaches for the waistband of my boxers, but I get there first. Jerking open the button and zipper, I grip the fabric in both fists and groan, “Roll over. I need these out of my fucking way.”
She rolls onto her back, pulling her thick olive sweater over her head as I strip off her jeans and panties with one swift motion. Her socks come next, because I need to see every part of her, worship every sweet inch of this woman who’s haunted me for so long.
One night with her was never going to be enough.
I was a fool to think I could be so close to her and keep from touching her, taking her.
Lengthening myself over her beautiful body, I kiss her hard, telling her with each sweep of my tongue how much I’ve missed her, how much I need her, how sorry I am that I can’t give her everything she deserves in a partner and more. I want to be her husband for real, forever, but this is all I can give her—the protection of my name and these stolen moments of pleasure.
I know my better self will take control again soon, but until he does, I can’t resist sliding my fingers between her legs. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so wet, so hot and wet.”
“I guess choking you really does it for me,” she pants against my lips.
“Really?” I ask, ready to offer her my throat again if that’s what has her pussy dripping on my hand.
“No, not really,” she says, raking her nails down my back, making my cock twitch against her thigh through the thin cotton of my boxers. “This is just what you do to me. We could be taking out the trash and I’d be wet, just because you’re close. Because I need you so much, because you’re the only person I think about when I touch myself.”
I curse beneath my breath, the thought of Casey pleasuring herself to thoughts of us together is more than I can bear without being even closer to her.
Shoving the last barrier between us down my legs and kicking them off onto the floor, I return to her arms, claiming her mouth the way I intend to claim every inch of her.
When she’s breathless and writhing beneath me, I thread my fingers into her hair and make a fist, holding tight as I whisper against her lips, “Show me, Casey. Show me what we do in your fantasies. I want to make them all come true.”
Chapter Ten
CASEY
I’m no trembling virgin.
I never have been, not even back when I was still holding onto my V-Card. I’ve never been scared of my sexuality or shy about asking for what I want in bed.
One good thing about having a mom who went through men like tissues during flu season and still seemed perfectly happy with her life? She taught me that my happiness was my responsibility. It didn’t lie in a man’s hands or his bed.
When my first boyfriend refused to go down on me, but wanted a blow job every Saturday night, I told him to get the hell out of my car and never come back. When my fourth called me a slut for having a “body count” higher than his at eighteen, I laughed in his face and happily went looking for Lucky Number Five. I refused to be shamed for enjoying my Goddess-given right to pleasure—not by men, other women, or society.
