Burn (8 page)

Now she cried, feeling the warm weight of Kyle’s body over her like a blanket, his arms shifting around her to hold her close. It wasn’t his fault that he wanted Alan. And he
did
love her. He did. He’d even been there for her at her mother’s funeral, if she’d wanted him, if she’d even so much as lifted a hand…

The parking lot hadn’t, in fact, been the last time she’d seen them. She’d spotted them at the cemetery, standing together far back in the crowd, their faces pale and somber. But by then she’d been too far gone to even care. As the first shovelful of half-frozen dirt had thudded down onto the casket, she’d turned on her heel and left.

Before the sun rose again on Preacher’s Bend she’d been a hundred miles east, heading for Chicago.

Sliding an arm around his neck, she hugged Kyle apologetically as her tears finally slowed. His chest heaved with sharp, rasping breaths. Realizing only then how badly she’d frightened him, Cassie turned her head to whisper “I’m sorry” in his ear…and froze as his mouth, hot and demanding, closed on hers.

For a moment, her mind went terrifyingly blank. This couldn’t be happening.

It
couldn’t
. He didn’t want her. He’d
never
wanted her…

Then she was kissing him back with a frenzy that stunned her, pulling him to her with a desperation she’d never
once
felt with Richard. Kyle’s hands stroked her face, her arms, her back as their lips locked together, tongues darting hungrily into each other’s mouths, their bodies straining together as if starved for the contact.

Kyle pulled back abruptly, staring down at her in shock, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His silvery blue eyes seemed to burn into her, wide with questions, doubts and—unmistakably—desire. Groaning, he bent his neck to seize her mouth again, his tongue diving deep between her lips to taste her, devour her. She arched up against him as his hips pressed down, rubbing his cock right against the place that ached for him—that had always ached for him.

How many nights, how many
years
had she dreamed of this? Practically whimpering with impatience, Cassie tugged Kyle’s shirt from his jeans, sliding her hands under it to feel the hard, solid ripple of his abs. He kept his mouth tight against hers as he unzipped her jacket and unbuttoned her blouse, his fingers shaking, his eyes closed as if he, too, could barely believe what was happening. Hesitantly, he brushed his hand over the lace of her bra and she cried out, moaning into his mouth, holding him tighter as he squeezed first one breast, then the other with growing assurance.

Like teenagers, they rubbed against each other, legs intertwining, hips pistoning fiercely as they fought to press their bodies even closer together. The bulge of his erection strained against her clit, and he panted in her ear, his fingers finding the taut nub of her nipple and squeezing it over and over until she was writhing beneath him, her thighs wrapped around his hips, her hands scrabbling madly at his heavy sheepskin jacket. She dragged it off him, hungry for the feel of his body against hers, and felt him stiffen in sudden doubt or fear.

He couldn’t stop now—he
couldn’t
! With wanton desperation, Cassie buried her hands in his hair, dragging his mouth back down to hers, kissing him until something inside of him, some last hesitation, crumbled like sand. With a harsh, wild sob, he thrust his tongue deep into her open mouth and dragged her tight against him.

Fumbling, eager, they tore at each other’s clothes. Kyle hugged her to his chest with one arm as he worked her coat off with the other. Cassie didn’t even bother with the buttons of his shirt as she yanked it over his head, taking the white T-shirt beneath with it, and tugged his belt loose. Then she dropped her head against the arm of the couch, panting.

Bracing himself on his arms, Kyle looked down at her, his pale, piercing eyes drinking in the sight of her. Her blouse hung open; her breasts, cupped in her white lace bra, heaved with each breath. His gaze traced them, his pupils widening, and Cassie studied him just as avidly.

She hadn’t seen him shirtless since he was thirteen, his lengthening body still all sharp angles and seeming half-finished. Now she stared wonderingly, transfixed by the width of his burly shoulders, the solid curve of his collarbones, the firm swell of his chest flecked now with soft blond hairs. His nipples, small and tight, brushed against her palms as she slid her hand over his pecs, following the smooth rise and fall of his ribcage down to the taut muscles of his abs.

Groaning, Kyle bent his head, kissing the curve of her breasts above her bra, then raked his teeth lightly over one lace-clad nipple. Herpussy, already soaked with arousal, throbbed hungrily, and she pressed against him, sliding her hands up his back, feeling the heavy muscles beneath the velvety skin. Burying his face between her breasts, he murmured, “Cass… Oh, Cass.”

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