Authors: Connie Mason
Suddenly Belle realized where he was heading and she gasped in understanding. “Casey! Dear God … what …”
He gazed up at her. “Did you and Tom never … ?”
“No! Please …”
He pressed against her inner thighs with the breadth of his shoulders until he felt her thighs give way. “Relax, love, I won’t hurt you. I want to please you … all of you … in every way.”
For Casey there was no conscious thought. There was only the incredible, nearly obsessive need to pleasure her, to possess her in every way a man could possess a woman. Her hands fluttered helplessly against the muscular tautness of his arms as he lowered his head and tasted her, his breath a
heated rush of wildly erotic fire against her dewy flesh. He groaned. She was hot and tasted tangy-sweet.
His tongue flicked against her sleek, wet recesses, again and again, teasing, circling, tormenting and exploring. Her fingers knotted his hair. She arched against him and panted, her needy cries filling the air, driving him to a frenzy. His blood pounding a primitive beat, he gave her what she so guilelessly sought.
His tongue pressed high and full against her swollen core, against the dewy pearl of sensation, wringing a convulsive shudder and a cry from her lips. Despite his nearly bursting manhood, he waited until she quieted before levering himself over her. She opened her eyes, all smoky and dazed, and stared at him as his lean fingers separated soft, downy fleece and then pink, moist folds. With a triumphant cry he plunged deep, embedded tight within her heated center. He withdrew, all hard and hot and glistening. Belle watched in awe as he came inside her again, driven and powerful. Thrust and withdrawal became wild and frenzied, performed against the welcoming wetness of her sheath.
He felt his seed rising, felt its burning path sear him, a mere heartbeat away from spilling himself. Beads of perspiration popped out on his forehead as he fought for control. He wanted Belle to find pleasure again before seeking his own fulfillment.
He seized her lips, his kiss raw and hungry. He felt her breath, hot and wild against the back of his throat, and caught her cries inside his mouth. He thrust harder, deeper, faster in answer to her silent plea. Suddenly he tore his mouth from hers and
gave a hoarse shout as he felt himself rushing toward climax.
“I can’t wait! Hurry, love, please …”
Belle gasped for air, fearing she would drown in the sea of bliss. Then she felt Casey tense, felt him grow huge and pulsing inside her, and she let his passion carry her to splendor. She cried out his name and convulsed around him. Casey dug his fingers into her buttocks and pulled her closer as he drove upward, once, then again. With a hoarse shout of triumph, he exploded powerfully as his body emptied. He hunched above her for long minutes, fighting for breath, his forehead pressed to hers, savoring the moment and the woman beneath him.
Belle couldn’t think, could only feel. This man had intruded into her life, made it a living hell, then stolen her heart. To make matters worse, she had married him, making him a part of her and Tommy’s life. Would he disappoint her again? she wondered. The answer was obvious. He was a man, wasn’t he? Most men had no hearts, no compassion. Of course she appreciated Casey’s efforts to find T.J.’s killer, but she was well aware that he had done so out of guilt, not love.
“What are you thinking?” Casey asked as he settled down beside her.
“I’m thinking how easy it was for you to seduce me.”
Casey’s brow furrowed. “I made love to you and you responded. Surely you must feel something for me. You trusted me with your son, remember.”
“I had no choice.”
“I know, I’m the lesser of two evils,” Casey
muttered dryly. Casey hovered on the edge of anger. What did he have to do to get Belle to admit she cared for him? “You don’t think much of me, do you?”
She felt the heat of his gaze sliding down her nude body and reached for the sheet. Once she was decently covered she gazed into his hazel eyes and tried to recall his question. At length, she said, “I’ve no reason to trust any man and you haven’t changed my mind. Tom was the exception.”
Casey was sick of hearing about Tom, that paragon of virtue. He knew he could never measure up to Belle’s dead husband however much he tried.
“Did you respond to Tom like you do to me? Did Tom make you cry out and writhe like a wanton beneath him? Did he make your blood sing and your body soar?” She stared at him. “I know how I make you feel, Belle. I can feel your excitement, taste your passion. It pools inside you like sweet honey.”
Belle felt the warmth of his words flow over her, inside her, and promptly denied he made her feel any differently than Tom had. “Of course Tom made me feel those things!” she hotly proclaimed.
Yet she knew she lied. Making love with Tom had been comfortable and pleasant, but certainly no earth-shattering experience. And she resented Casey for making her feel things Tom had not. She felt like a traitor to Tom’s memory. Tom had married her against his father’s wishes and paid for it with his life. All in the name of love. She didn’t deserve to feel the kind of passion Casey aroused in her.
“Liar.” He caressed her breasts. He could feel her heart thumping against his hand and smiled cynically.
“Deny it all you want. You want me as much as I want you.”
In one hand Casey gathered the rich silk of her hair and with the other he pulled her against him. She felt his arousal and caught her breath, surprised that he was aroused again so soon. Tom had never taken her twice with scarcely a breather in between. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to make love to my wife. Then we’re going to eat something and go to sleep.”
“You can’t! It’s too soon. Tom never …”
“Dammit, Belle, I don’t want to hear what Tom did or didn’t do. Tom is dead. I’m tired of hearing about your former husband. I’m the man in your bed. When I make love to you I don’t want to be compared to another.”
Abruptly Belle realized how Casey must feel being constantly compared to Tom. She couldn’t help it. Tom had been the only man she had ever trusted. Tom had given her Tommy.
“I don’t … I didn’t mean …”
He kissed her long and deep, swallowing whatever reply she had intended to make. She squawked in surprise when he lifted her high and set her atop him. She was open and straddling him; Casey could feel the moist heat of her against his loins.
“Take me inside you when you’re ready, love,” he urged in a hoarse whisper.
When she hesitated he raised his head and took her nipple into his mouth, tugging it with his lips and laving it with his tongue. He moved freely from one breast to the other, until passion returned and she trembled with the force of it.
“Now, love, now,” he gasped as he lifted her
buttocks and urged her down upon his turgid manhood.
Belle shook her head no even as she guided him to the portals of her glistening sex. He entered her slowly then pushed her down hard to take all of him. She cried out in sheer joy, then gave herself up to the heat and passion consuming her. She came in a rush as he thrust forcefully inside her. Moments later he followed her to paradise. She fell asleep lying on top of him.
Belle awoke with a start. She stretched out her hand and found the place beside her on the bed empty. The room was dark but for a shaft of moonlight spearing through the window. She saw Casey immediately, standing before the hearth, poking at the dying flames. He was gloriously nude and Belle’s admiring gaze swept over the incredible width and breadth of him. She followed the pattern of corded muscles across his back and down his legs and taut buttocks and her tingling fingertips remembered the strength of them. She stirred restlessly and Casey must have heard her for he turned and smiled at her.
“You’re awake. I’m glad. You really should eat something.”
He walked over to his discarded clothing and tugged on his pants. A maid brought a tray earlier but I told her to take it back to the kitchen. I didn’t want to awaken you. I’ll go get it.”
Belle sat up in bed, pulling the sheet up to her chin. “I’m not very hungry.”
“Nonsense. You’re far too thin.”
“That’s because I haven’t been able to keep much food down the last week or so.”
A worried frown darkened Casey’s brow. “I’ll summon the doctor first thing tomorrow.” She started to protest. “No, don’t try to talk me out of it. I’ll be right back.” He turned and strode out the door.
While he was gone Belle thought about Harry Hopkins and how things had turned out. Somehow she couldn’t imagine Harry Hopkins killing anyone. He’d seemed such a gentle man. Suddenly another name came to mind and her brow furrowed in concentration. Casey returned before Belle had time to complete the thought. He set the tray across her lap, lit a lantern, and pulled a chair close to the bed so he could join her.
Despite Casey’s encouragement Belle merely picked at her food. She was weary, so very weary. She was troubled and confused over Harry Hopkins’ confession and bewildered by her response to Casey sexually. There was no longer a reason to remain married to Casey. Tommy was her responsibility now and she could raise him without Casey’s help.
After several bites she set down her fork and stared into space. Suddenly she blurted out the words that had been nagging at her since Harry Hopkins had confessed to McAllister’s murder.
“He’s not guilty, Casey. Harry Hopkins didn’t do it.”
C
asey dropped his fork and stared at Belle. “What in the hell are you talking about? You heard Hopkins. He confessed before dozens of witnesses. Of course he’s guilty.”
“You’ve got the wrong man,” Belle persisted stubbornly. “Harry Hopkins is a gentle man. Look into his eyes, that ought to tell you something. I’m convinced he’s not capable of murder.”
Casey carefully set the tray aside. “If you didn’t kill McAllister,” he asked reasonably, “and Hopkins didn’t, who did?”
“I don’t know.”
“Forget it, Belle. You’re free. As far as I’m concerned the right man is in jail. You must be exhausted. You’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep.”
Perhaps Casey was right, Belle thought as she hunkered down between the blankets and closed her eyes. A moment later she felt the mattress dip and the warmth of his body and realized he meant to sleep with her all night.
“What are you doing?”
Casey cocked a dark brow at her. “Going to bed. It’s been a long day.”
“A house this size should have several bedrooms. I’m sure you’d be more comfortable in one of them.”
“You’re my wife and I want to sleep beside you.” He stretched out and reached for her.
Belle scooted to the edge of the bed. She supposed now was as good a time as any to discuss their marriage. “We both know why you married me. You did it for Tommy, because you felt responsible for his abduction. I’m free now. You’re not bound by our hasty marriage vows. You can leave any time you wish.”
Anger throbbed against Casey’s temples. Did Belle feel nothing for him? How ironic. The first time he’d ever felt this way about a woman and she wants nothing to do with him. Perhaps Belle was right. Perhaps a quick separation and divorce was the logical thing to do. Unfortunately his heart rebelled.
He pushed himself off the bed and stood over her, his eyes hooded. “I’m going to stay and take care of Tommy whether you like it or not. I gave my word to the judge. If you don’t want me in your bed, fine, but you can forget about a divorce. A few minutes ago I could have sworn you enjoyed being married to me.” He shrugged expansively. “But then, I never did pretend to understand women. There is no shortage of willing women, I should have no problem finding one to satisfy me. Just remember, you’re the one who sent me from your bed. I was perfectly willing to let my wife satisfy my needs. You may be right. Perhaps I
don’t
need a wife.”
At a loss for words, Belle watched him gather up his clothes and stride nude from the bedroom. She opened her mouth to call him back but the words caught in her throat. Allowing Casey into her heart would be disastrous. She had loved her father and he had neglected her and finally left her, as well as this earth. She had loved and trusted Tom and he had left her, too. Allowing herself to love Casey would bring her to utter ruin. When he left her, and he invariably would, the final humiliation would destroy her where McAllister had not succeeded.
Casey paused in the doorway. “I’ll see that the doctor is sent for first thing tomorrow. Do you have a particular doctor in mind?”
“It’s not necessary, I’m …” She knew what was wrong, had suspected she was pregnant for some days, but she wasn’t certain she wanted Casey to know.
“No arguments, Belle.”
“Doctor Peabody, then. He’s seen Tommy through some minor illnesses and he’s also Naomi’s doctor. He’s elderly and always treated the girls kindly.”
“Very well, Doctor Peabody it is.” Then he was gone, closing the door softly behind him.
Once back in his own room Casey’s temper exploded. He hit the wall so hard with his fist he bloodied his knuckles. He’d learned the wisdom of controlling his anger early on, but this time he’d nearly succumbed. He realized that frightening Belle with his temper would not change her mind about him.
The single most important thing that kept Casey from packing and leaving was the knowledge that Belle enjoyed, no,
craved
his lovemaking. She had
participated with unbridled passion tonight despite her initial reluctance. He had not forced her, he would never do that, and she had responded with an eagerness that thrilled him. It was enough to make him believe she cared for him more than she was willing to admit.
Resting in bed with his hands behind his head, Casey realized that Belle’s life had not been an easy one. More than once she had mentioned being disappointed and hurt by her father. She even blamed her beloved Tom for dying and leaving her at the mercy of his father. The things she had seen and heard at the whorehouse contributed to her distrust of men. And learning that Casey worked for McAllister had been the final blow to her fragile ego. Belle believed that all men were users and takers, including Casey. Somehow, some way, he had to change her mind. Was he capable of gaining her trust? he wondered. Was he wasting his time loving a woman who didn’t love him?