She was the one who closed the distance between them. And yeah, that was definitely Luc’s familiar face looking at her with a mix of trepidation and hope in his expressive eyes as she stood there, barely two feet away from him.
“You should come inside.” Her words came out in a whisper. This felt far more real than it should have, and she almost turned away. But it was that very realness—the chemistry between them that instantly clicked back on—that would give her the closure she hoped for.
“I dunno,” he said, typical Luc, laughing a little. “It’s late and I know you’re tired. We should probably wait until the morning to talk.”
“Yeah, I don’t want to talk.” Casey stook another step forward, and he drew in a sharp breath because it was more than obvious that she was invading his personal space with the very clear intention of kissing him.
And he didn’t believe it at first, at least not for several breathtaking heartbeats, but realization quickly crashed over him and he whispered, “Oh, thank god,” right before she lifted her mouth to his.
He stepped into her kiss, damn near crushing her in his arms as he returned the favor by kissing the living shit out of her. And oh, god, it felt so good.
Laughing and maybe crying a little, too—because what was she doing?—Casey pulled away, dragging him with her back toward the house.
And Luc didn’t resist.
The house was as beautiful inside as it was out.
The living room was dark, but light from the nearby kitchen made it bright enough to see as Rio stopped Casey from pulling him away from the door. The alarm key pad was right there, and he flipped it open.
She realized that he wasn’t going anywhere without locking up behind them, so she told him, “Alarm code is Dana10-9-8” as she helped, reaching up for the night lock that would secure the slider.
After arriving home and getting cleaned up, she’d changed into a loose-fitting pair of shorts and an oversized T-shirt—a less fancy version of the pajamas she’d worn in the hotel. She’d cleaned up and bandaged her skinned knee, as well as her elbow. Rio hadn’t realized she’d scraped that, too, when dodging the car.
Dodging the driver of the car, who’d aimed directly for her.
Jesus, they really needed to talk.
“Casey, I—” he started to say.
“Shhh,” she said and kissed him again.
And, oh man, all right, okay, this was good, too. They could do this for a while, sure.
But then she started tugging him, again, toward and then down a hallway that led to... yup, this was definitely her bedroom.
Pretty blue walls, white painted furniture. Shining hardwood floors. Raised ceiling with a slowly moving fan overhead. It was neatly tidy and dim and cool, with a big, comfortable, inviting bed as the room’s centerpiece.
Well, it would’ve been if Casey wasn’t in the room. She was pajamas-in-the-hotel-room Casey—no secrets, no reservations. Her short hair was soft around her face—nothing in it to give it texture or edginess. No make up either, just her face, smooth and sweet, her eyes wide and a little... teary?
“You okay?” Rio asked, and she nodded and just kissed him again.
He realized that she tasted like wine, and that worried him a little until he saw the bottle and the glass on her bedside table. The bottle was mostly full—she’d just opened it. That was good. This wasn’t the alcohol talking, although he really did want someone to say something, so he again pulled free from the deliciousness of her soft mouth to tell her, “You know I’m really sorry, right? It was all about keeping the truth from Jon, so—”
“I really, really, really don’t want to talk,” she interrupted him as she tugged her shirt over her head and dropped it on the floor. Her shorts followed and she added, “Please.”
Please.
The most beautiful, amazing, brilliant, perfect woman he’d ever met in his entire life was standing naked in front of him and saying please.
Whatever she saw in his eyes made her smile and she came toward him even as he lunged for her. They were a hundred percent united in their desire to get his clothes off of him, too, but locking mouths and trying to touch each others’ tonsils with their tongues was their utmost priority so it was all a bit messy and clumsy, but damn that was okay, because now the most beautiful, amazing, brilliant, perfect woman he’d ever met was naked and laughing in his arms as he finally managed to pull his head free from his T-shirt and kick off his flip-flops.
Her hands were on the button of his jeans, her fingers cool against the heat of his stomach, and the reality of this—this was happening—jolted him and shook his brain back into a place where it had a tentative connection to his mouth, and he managed to say, "Condoms?” and make it an actual question instead of just a gasp.
“Bedside table, bottom drawer,” she answered, pulling his zipper down.
Rio helped by pushing his jeans down his thighs as her exploring hands found his locked and loaded dick, briefly cupping his balls right through his briefs—Jesus, this was happening—before she helped him kick his legs free from his jeans.
He’d tried to adios his briefs along with his jeans, but she seemed to want him to keep them on, and really, he was okay with whatever she wanted. Her house, her rules.
