Authors: Christa Maurice
He hadn’t been inside a church in years, and the last one was a six hundred-year-old stone Catholic church in Italy. This church didn’t look anything like that one. The walls were painted bright white and the carpet in the aisles brilliant red. The windows were clear glass and Jason could see the stars through them. It didn’t take long before the owner of the violin appeared with the banjo owner in tow to claim their instruments. Then Cassie’s mother came upstairs with the woman from the door.
They joked and played and teased one another about missed notes and out of tune strings. Andy had a clear, strong voice and bottomless patience for teaching. Ben added a couple of tunes and then Cassie’s mother sang a haunting ballad
a cappella
. Jason wished he’d brought a tape recorder with him. He’d never remember all of this.
He also wished he belonged to this group. They were all so comfortable together, and even though Cassie worried about what the town would think, she knew they would be thinking about her. They all loved her. Jason loved his family and got along well with the other guys in the band, but he’d never belonged the way these people belonged to one another. They probably wouldn’t be as shocked as she thought by what was going on at her house. The way they teased each other, they weren’t prudes.
Cass appeared, walking up the aisle. Jason had a flash of vertigo and looked at his watch to cover it. It was late. Most of the older folks seemed to have filtered up here. Watching Cassie again, he had the same impression of her walking down the aisle to marry him. Why she would be marrying him in a navy blue skirt and purple chenille sweater, he couldn’t say.
She stopped beside where he leaned on the railing in front of the pulpit.
“Hi, swee’pea,” Andy said, plucking his guitar strings. He’d tried to demonstrate a finger picking technique and hadn’t been able to get it right yet, much to the amusement of his cronies.
“Hi, Dad. Boy, it’s turned into
Dirty Dancing
down there.”
One of the women gasped and jumped up, sprinting down the aisle with Reverend Bell hot on her heels.
“Mrs. Stern. Kady’s mom,” Cass filled in when Jason looked up.
What would happen if he reached up, pulled her into his lap and kissed her? Would she freak? Would her parents? Would he regret it for the rest of his life or would it be the best decision he’d ever made? He gripped the neck of his guitar, half ready to set it aside and experiment. They were in the perfect location for a shotgun wedding. Somebody might even have a shotgun.
“It’s getting late, and Paul said he would take me back home if you wanted to stay,” Cass said. “I can leave you the keys to the truck.” Her voice sounded cool and even as she held out the keys, as if she wouldn’t care if he decided to bunk down in one of the pews for the night. A sick jolt hit him that he’d left her alone for a very long time with Finn. Had Finn managed to make a successful play for her? But if Finn had met with success, wouldn’t he be taking her home?
“We could have driven him home,” her mother volunteered. He still hadn’t caught her name. Sue? Shirley? Sharon? He should have paid closer attention.
But he wasn’t staying. This cozy small town environment wasn’t his. He was just visiting.
“No, Paul wants to talk to me,” Cass said.
“If you don’t mind me taking your truck.” Jason took her keys. As long as Paul was taking her home it would be okay, but how soon could he duck out of here without raising suspicion?
* * * *
Cass caught herself as Jason took the truck keys from her. She’d lifted her hand toward him and then changed direction, set it down on the railing. She’d been about a breath away from brushing her fingers through his hair and kissing his forehead. It had seemed like a natural thing to do. “Well, I guess I’ll see you then. You have the number if you have any problems.”
Jason nodded.
Before she did anything revealing, she forced herself to walk away. He looked so comfortable and happy, it nearly brought tears to her eyes. She’d been surprised to hear music coming from the worship hall as she’d headed up to find him. Her father told her he had roped a couple of other old fogies into playing, but she hadn’t expected to find half the community in the pews singing along. Any lingering guilt about leaving Jason alone with her father vanished when she saw him sitting right up front, bright-eyed and smiling. Of all the photos she’d seen of him, posed and impromptu, she’d never seen him so happy. She hadn’t wanted to interrupt, but had a plan to carry out and Paul did want to talk to her.
Paul apologized again for saying too much to Finn on the way home, but accepted her assurance that she didn’t hate him this time. He even tried to lie and tell her he didn’t know what had gone on at the end of her marriage, but didn’t attempt to come inside when he pulled up at her front door.
Once home, she took a record-setting shower. Locating the correct underwear took longer than she’d planned. Some things she never wore were packed into a box under the bed, and that’s where she found her fancy underwire and lacy underwear. She had to shove her collection of magazines out of the way. Probably she’d be throwing those away now. None of it was really Jason.
No time for that right now though. Well before she thought Jason might decide to come home, she shimmied into the dress, left the bolero jacket, and darted into the bathroom to fix her hair and face. Her makeup was so old, half of it was dried up. She was pinning her hair in place when she heard her truck pass the house. Leaning into the garage, she pressed the door opener before sprinting into the bedroom to grab her velvet coat. She heard him stomping snow off his shoes in the garage as she turned on her Nat King Cole CD.
Jason opened the garage door. “Hi honey, I’m ho—” He stopped at the edge of the hall, staring.
Cass tried to remain calm. She clasped her hands in front of her. Her palms were damp, waiting for him to say something. What if he didn’t like it? Maybe Sasha was right and the dress really looked horrible on her. What if? What if?
He set down his guitar case, never taking his eyes off her. “It’s— You’re— Wow.” He took a step toward her. “You have such beautiful hair,
preciosa
,” he murmured.
Cass smiled. She hadn’t expected him to be quite so stunned. Happy, yes, but not speechless. He cradled her cheek in his palm as if he thought she would break. His thumb brushed the underside of her lip, and she leaned into the touch. Her eyes drifted closed. The room felt charged. Jason caught her in his arms and waltzed her across the room. He stroked the velvet at her waist until he had his hand on the small of her back, pulling her tight against his hard chest. She leaned her head on his shoulder.
“I wanted to dance with you all night,” he whispered into her hair. “I wanted to hold you close and sway with you, and show all those people how beautiful I know you are, but I had no idea.” He took her lower lip into his mouth, traced with his tongue along the sensitive inside.
When she reached up, trying to crush herself to him, he eased back to a teasing distance, relinquished her lower lip and tantalized her upper lip. Cass laced her fingers through his hair. Every strand glided across her fingers like silk.
He unbuttoned the one button holding the jacket closed, released her and took it off. As he folded it over the back of the couch, he stroked the velvet one last time. Then he turned to her, drew a deep breath through his nose. “You know what this dress needs?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.
Cass shook her head.
“It needs a nice yellow sapphire necklace.” He trailed the tip of his finger along the side of her neck to a point above the neckline and between her breasts. Her skin sizzled with sensation in its wake. “A nice-sized one, surrounded by diamonds, hanging right about here.” He traced a small circle on her flesh, dipping below the neckline of the dress, following the silk. “Or a garnet.”
The brush of his finger against her skin paralyzed her. He seemed to be in no particular hurry, and she wanted to cry out with frustration, but her mouth had gone dry. Outside, the wind howled around the eaves. Jason walked behind her, spreading his hands over her bare shoulders. The soft weave of his sweater brushed against her skin.
“Silk suits you, Cassandra,
bella
,” he murmured, his breath caressing her cheek and touching her nerves. He trailed his knuckles down her spine to the zipper.
“Jason, please.” Heat throbbed between her legs.
He kissed her shoulder, unleashing waves of pleasure. “I want to see your hair down,
bella
.” Need cut at the edge of his voice.
With clumsy fingers, she reached back for the comb holding her hair up in the simple French twist. No sooner had she pulled it loose, than she dropped it. Running his fingers through her hair, he freed it from its heavy coil, draped it across her shoulders.
“You have such beautiful hair,
preciosa
,” he said, in that same low, intoxicating voice, combing his fingers through it. “You’re best dressed when you’re only wearing your beautiful hair.” As he pulled down the zipper and the dress fell in a bright puddle around her feet, the cool air added its touch to her skin, caressing as his fingers soon would.
Turned to face him, she stepped out of the material. Eyes wide, he took in her lacy bra and panties.
“Surprises within surprises tonight,” he said.
Reaching out, she pulled his sweater over his head, and while he watched, leaned forward, kissed his chest and chase her tongue along his collarbone. She pressed her hands against the hard planes of his stomach, moved them upward until her fingers brushed his tight nipples. Then he rested his hands on her shoulders again, kneaded the soft flesh. She had to taste his skin again, that delicious flavor distinctly his, and touched his nipple with the tip of her tongue. A heavy groan wrenched from him.
Abruptly, he lifted her off the floor and carried her to the bedroom. He laid her on the bed and followed her down. His weight pressed her into the mattress, his mouth commanded hers. Straining at his jeans, his length insisted against her and her legs fell open for him. Instead of taking off his jeans, he slid down her body, kissing her skin. He unhooked her bra, pulled it away, and mounding her breasts with his hands, suckled her nipples with a sweet, slow pressure that had her sobbing with pleasure. His journey down her stomach continued, bringing heat that bordered on pain, which coiled and snapped in her as he traced her belly button with the tip of his tongue. When he thrust his tongue into her belly button, she arched to meet him.
“Please, Jason, I want to feel you inside me.” Now she was panting, couldn’t wait.
Jason sat back as he pulled her panties down her thighs, watching her with dark eyes. “You keep making me want you more,
bella
,” he said in a tight, pained voice. “Just when I think I want you so much I could die, you make me want you more.” Kneeling, he unbuckled his pants.
Her heart swelled as she watched him kneeling over her. The firelight glinted off the wiry dark hair on his chest and stomach that eventually disappeared into the open waistband of his jeans. His hair fell across his face, shadowing his eyes. He looked so beautiful. She wanted to give him everything. To make him happy and heal all his hurts. Make the world perfect for him. Glad to have at least thought to open a condom as part of her preparations, she took it from the bedside table, handed it to him.
“The lady thinks of everything,” he murmured. He slid it on and stretched out above her, hanging for a long moment.
With a suddenness that brought a cry from her, he thrust into her. Then he drew back almost to the point of slipping out and paused, gaze intent her face. Tears in her eyes, she stared up at him and put her hands on his shoulders. He thrust into her again. She drove her mouth against his shoulder. His strokes were powerful, almost frightening. Wilder than ever before. Cass opened herself to him, allowed him to drive into her.
“Jason,” she cried out, as the tension inside her reached a crescendo. “Oh, Jason, I love you.”
* * * *
Afterward, hoping he hadn’t heard her, she lay very still in his embrace. So far he hadn’t given her any indication he had. He lay beside her, panting. He laced his fingers through hers. “It was a wonderful surprise,
bella
,” he said.
The dress or her declaration? It had to be the dress. He wouldn’t be happy about her declaration. “I thought you would like it.”
“Is that why you left early?”
“Yes.”
“So you had it planned all along.”
She turned her head sideways so she could see his face. “Not all along. It occurred to me in the middle of the dance that I could get home in time to change before you got back.”
He touched his thumb to the corner of her eye where her mascara had smeared. “Makeup and everything.”
“I’ve been told I clean up nicely.”
He pulled her close, rested her head on his chest. “You’re not bad dirty. In fact, you’re pretty good.” He kissed her head and tangled his fingers through her hair. Within moments, his breathing evened into sleep. So far she was safe. She closed her eyes. Gretta was wrong. She did love him.
And it doomed her.
* * * *
Half an hour ago, he’d awakened and wanted her with an intensity that surprised him. He needed to be wrapped in her. Cradled, protected, loved. Not only that, he wanted to be in her life, have the right to wake up next to her and pull her into his lap in the Baptist Church worship hall surrounded by the entire town.
It terrified him.
So he watched her sleep, waiting for the first signs of wakefulness so he could banish his fears in the security of her arms. Her eyelashes fluttered.
“Good morning,
bella
,” he murmured, brushing his lips against her ear lobe.
“Good morning,” Cass gasped. She arched her back. Her sweet feminine body brushed against him, delicious curves and wonderful clefts opening.
“Did you sleep well?” He traced the shell of her ear with his tongue.
She shuddered, pulling him closer. “Please, oh please,” she moaned.
“Please what,
bella mia
?” The same havoc he’d created in her surged through him. His whole body felt like a live wire. He could still remember the way she’d looked in her beautiful silk dress with that half fearful, half hopeful smile when he’d walked out of the hall the night before. Shyly eager to please him, not sure of his reaction. He’d never known a woman who could do this to him every time.