beginning the healing process. He slid his still-heavy erection from her body, catching
her when she slumped toward the wall.
Holding her tight in his arms, he grabbed a washcloth and quickly cleaned them
both up and then turned off the water. Steam filled the small room as he lifted her out
of the shower and leaned her against the counter. Grabbing a towel, he quickly dried
them both off and then lifted her into his arms once again. She didn't even open her
eyes as he carried her into her bedroom and tucked her into bed.
He knew he had to leave, but he wanted to hold her in his arms and feel her
heartbeat against his. Just a few minutes. What could it hurt?
Ignoring the warning in his mind, he slid in beside her. She rolled toward him,
settling her head on his shoulder and pressing a hand over his heart as if she'd been
sleeping with him for years. It felt right and good.
He'd only stay a moment and then he'd leave. Settling himself, he soaked in the
pleasure of having her next to him.
Chapter Nineteen
Cassidy was frustrated. Raking his fingers though his hair, he tried to calm himself
before he went into the library to get Blythe. They'd all called it quits earlier than usual,
but it was still only about an hour until dawn.
He stalked into the room and then came to an abrupt halt. Blythe was curled up in
one corner of the sofa, fast asleep. She looked younger in sleep, less guarded. Her
blonde hair covered the pillow, creating a halo around her face. Damn, she was
beautiful. But it wasn't just her beauty that drew him. He was too old to be attracted to
just a pretty face.
No, it was Blythe herself. The inner strength that shone from within her. The shy
way that she was around the others. She was a contradiction--one minute brash, the
next uncertain. She wore her attitude around her like a shield, keeping them all at arm's
length. Not that he blamed her. Her life certainly hadn't been a bed of roses, but still, he
found in frustrating.
She made a small snuffling sound, but didn't wake. He strode toward her, making
sure his boots made no sound against the hardwood floor. Cassidy eased down onto the
sofa beside her, but her eyes popped open the second he touched the cushion. Fear
filled her eyes, but she quickly hid it behind her mask of indifference. Cassidy wanted
to howl and yell and beat his fists against the wall. Instead, he hooked a strand of hair
around her ear and then brushed the edge of his finger against the line of her jaw.
Arousal, swift and immediate, filled him. It was always like this around Blythe.
And she wasn't immune either. As he watched, her throat moved convulsively as she
swallowed. He sensed her uncertainty and knew that she wasn't quite sure if she
wanted to move away from him or toward him. They'd been playing this battle out all
week.
Cassidy made the decision for her, sitting back and giving her space. He liked to
think that it was disappointment that filled her face, but with his luck, it was relief. She
pulled herself up into a seated position, putting even more distance between them.
Barely stifling a yawn behind her hand, she stared at him. "No luck?"
Her voice washed through him like a physical caress. Soft, sultry and sleep-filled, it
was the kind of voice a man dreamed of hearing in the middle of the night. It was the
voice of a lover, sated and exhausted but wanting more.
Cassidy swallowed hard and shook his head. "None." He tried to ignore his hard-
on, but it was impossible. His earlier irritation returned. "We're hitting nothing but
dead ends on both sides."
Blythe reached out and brushed his arm with her hand. He felt that small caress
ricochet throughout his body, heating it, hardening it. "You'll catch a break soon. I
know you will."
The walls of the room seemed to close in around him. Cassidy needed to get out of
here, needed to get Blythe out of here. He wanted her all to himself and there was no
privacy to be found in this house. Cassidy knew that Lucian and Delight were still up
and around, and although he knew they wouldn't intrude, he wanted Blythe in his
home.
Standing, he held out his hand to her. "Come on. It's time to go home." It was
deliberate, his use of the word home. She stared at his hand and then into his face as if
searching for answers. He kept his face impassive, but couldn't help the bolt of
satisfaction that shot through him when she reached out and took his hand. He helped
her to her feet and then wrapped his arm around her, guiding her toward the back
door. He stopped long enough to check the monitors around the garden and set the
house alarm before ushering her quickly across the still-dark garden and into the
carriage house. Resetting the alarms on his own place, he then led her up the stairs and
into his apartment.
Home. He supposed it was as much of a home as any place he'd lived over the
years. Up until Blythe had come to stay with him, it had just been a place to sleep and to
house his stuff. But since she'd come, the place had taken on an entirely different
feeling.
Whether she knew it or not, Blythe was a nester. He'd seen small signs of it in her
old apartment. The mismatched furniture that had been refinished, the brightly colored
thrift store plates and glasses stacked neatly on an open shelf and the myriad pillows
that had been scattered across her futon. She hadn't had much, but she'd made her
space comfortable, her own. Now she was doing the same thing to his place.
Little things, like an old glass jar filled with flowers from the garden that turned up
in the center of his kitchen table and the fact that a blanket from his closet was now
draped artistically across the back of his sofa. And instead of being pissed that she was
messing around with his space, he was charmed and pleased. He wanted her to feel
comfortable and settled. Wanted her to feel at home. Wanted her to stay.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. That was the bottom line. He wanted
Blythe to stay with him. Forever. Deep down he knew that she was waiting for this to
be over so she could get on with her life. Without him.
He watched her scurry off to his bedroom--hers now, he supposed. He glanced
down at the sofa, resigning himself to another sleepless night. God, he was tired. The
past week he'd caught only a few catnaps here and there. He was running on empty
and he knew it. None of them could keep this up indefinitely. It was starting to fray
everyone's nerves to the breaking point.
He glanced over at the bedroom door, brooding as he yanked off his boots and
socks. His mood grew darker as he hauled the tails of his shirt out of his jeans and
undid the buttons. If she thought she was going to get rid of him easily when this was
over, she was in for a big surprise. His hands stilled as he slid the last button out of its
hole. And if she knew what he was thinking, she'd run now. Patience was the key.
Patience and time.
She was getting used to him, to all of them. Cassidy watched her sometimes when
she was with the other women and knew she was beginning to relax around them. That
was a plus as far as he was concerned. The closer she connected with them, the less
likely she was to be able to walk away from all of them when this was over.
Plus, she was starting to get used to him as well. Small things, like the way she took
his hand back at the house and then let him keep his arm around her as they walked
back to the carriage house. A week ago she wouldn't have reached out to him at all and
would have either shrugged off his arm or stiffened beneath it.
Rolling his shoulders to try to release some of the tension, he closed his eyes and
tried to ignore his throbbing dick. His eyes flew open when he heard a slight sound. He
wasn't worried though. Cassidy knew it was Blythe. Her warm, floral scent had wafted
through the doorway just before he heard the shuffle of her feet.
She was staring at him, hunger warring with uncertainty in her eyes. He could not
ignore the unspoken plea. Slowly, he stalked toward her, giving her plenty of time to
slam the bedroom door in his face. She stood there watching him, her blue eyes
growing larger with each step he took. Her cheeks, normally pale, were tinged with
pink. The bruises that had marred her face, making it sallow and dark, had faded
somewhat, but her soft skin was still marked by the trauma she'd been through.
Her chest was rising and falling with each breath she took, making her breasts
jiggle. She'd removed the clothing she'd been wearing earlier and was now clad only in
a pale blue T-shirt that barely skimmed the tops of her thighs. Her long, smooth legs
were bare and he couldn't tell if she was wearing any panties or if she was totally naked
beneath her shirt.
Cassidy's heart pounded and his own breathing was harsh as he stopped right in
front of her. He was so close that his bare toes touched hers. Blythe had to tip her head
back to look at him.
Every muscle in his body was tense with anticipation. His blood pumped thickly
through his body, most of it pooling heavily in his groin. His cock throbbed with a
primitive rhythm, demanding he slake his lust. But he wanted more than that. He
didn't only want Blythe's body, he wanted her very soul. It was only fair, since she
already owned his.
He clasped her shoulders with his hands and was once again reminded of just how
much smaller than him she was. She had such a vibrant personality, she seemed much
larger sometimes. But Cassidy was always aware of how fragile she was, and not just
physically. She'd been through some kind of trauma that centered around Jethro Prince.
Cassidy didn't know exactly what had happened between the two of them, wasn't
sure he wanted to know. Just the thought of Blythe with another man was enough to
make him crazy, as illogical as that was. He knew she'd been with other men. At her
age and as beautiful as she was, that was a given. But he wanted to be the only man
from here on in.
She licked her lips and he followed the path of her tongue with his gaze. The vein in
his temple was pounding. He swallowed hard. He wanted to cherish her, loving her
slowing and carefully, taking the time to stroke every inch of her lush body. He wanted
to ravish her, burying his cock in her heat and pounding into her until they were both
sated. The intense contradictions held him immobile.
Then she went up on her toes and kissed him.
It was a gentle kiss. A mere brush of her lips against his. But it had been freely
given. Cassidy's head swam with emotions and needs as he struggled to keep the kiss
light and undemanding.
Then she stroked her tongue into his mouth and he lost it.
Plunging his tongue past her lips, he ravished her mouth. His hands slid from her
shoulders to band around her back, locking her tight against him. The hard nubs of her
nipples pressed against his chest even through the fabric of her T-shirt. Cassidy was
fiercely glad he'd unbuttoned his shirt earlier. It allowed him to feel the soft mounds of
her breasts and their rigid tips all the better.
Sliding one hand up her spine, he cupped the back of her head, threading his
fingers through her hair. He tilted her head to one side, giving himself better access to
her mouth as he continued to claim it as his own. His tongue stroked hers and he
groaned as hers tangled willingly with his. She tasted sweet and addictive and he knew
he'd never get enough of her.
The hand that was low on her back slipped lower. He had to know. His fingers
pushed beneath the fabric and felt only warm, pliant skin. His brain almost exploded.
She was naked beneath the shirt. No. As his fingers skimmed higher, he encountered a
thin string. His hand stilled as his mind computed what this meant. She was wearing a
thong. Somehow that was just as arousing as if she'd been wearing nothing at all.
Blythe whimpered as he stroked the cleft of her behind, tracing the path of the thin
string. She pulled back, gasping for breath as she gazed up at him, her eyes almost blind
with passion. Cassidy recognized her need. It was the same that pulsed through him.
His chest heaving, he stared down at the woman still clasped tight in his arms. "If
you're going to say no, say it now." He barely recognized his own voice, it was so low
and guttural. The finesse he usually had with women was gone. This woman brought
out all this primitive instincts, drove all else from his mind. Still, he would do nothing
to scare her, to harm her. Nothing!
In answer, she stepped away from him. Cassidy's hands dropped from her and
fisted at his sides. His shirt was clinging to his back. Heat, wild and fierce, radiated
he was.
Blythe's eyes seemed to focus on his hands and he forced his fingers to relax. He
didn't want to frighten her, didn't want her remembering another man striking her. Her
gaze flew to his face and whatever she saw there seemed to satisfy her.
Ever-so slowly, she held out her hand to him.
Blythe desperately reminded herself to breathe. It wouldn't do for her to pass out in
a heap at Cassidy's feet. Her heart was pounding so hard she was surprised that it
didn't burst. Her entire body tingled, her breasts felt swollen and aroused and her
pussy was wet, aching with a need she'd never felt before.
Other men had touched her body and tried to kindle desire within her, but only this
man had managed to do it. And he'd barely touched her. Fear crept into Blythe's mind,
threatening to diminish the arousal, but by sheer will alone, she pushed it back. Just
once in her life, she wanted to feel normal, wanted to truly desire a man. This might be
her only chance. Once this episode with Adrian Prince was over, she'd leave New
Orleans and begin a new life somewhere else and she'd never see Sam Cassidy again.
Just the thought brought tears to her eyes and she blinked them back. He stood
there waiting for her to decide. That alone gave her the strength to go forward. She'd
never met a man like Cassidy before. He made her feel special. To him, she was more
than just a pretty face and a lush body.
His hands were fisted at his sides, but as she watched, his fingers relaxed. Her eyes
jumped to his face. He knew she was afraid and he was doing his best to reassure her. It
was her choice. She held her hand out to him and sighed when his closed around it
.
She led him to the bed. Neither of them spoke as she slid her hands beneath his
shirt and slipped it of his shoulders. His skin was slightly damp and his muscles
jumped beneath her palms as she stroked them across his chest. He was so strong, yet
always so gentle with her.
"Blythe?"
"Shh." She laid her finger over his lips. She didn't want to talk, didn't want to break
the almost magical mood that seemed to surround them. Maybe it was because it was in
the last vestiges of the night just before the dawn. Maybe it was because, deep inside,
she was beginning to trust Cassidy. She knew she wanted him. He'd awoken something
within her. Something she'd thought hadn't existed within her. He made her feel like a
woman, with a woman's wants and needs, and she wanted this one chance to explore
them before she had to leave this amazing man.
She couldn't stay. That was a given. Jethro Prince had taken that option from her.
She shuddered and Cassidy said her name again. Rather than answer, she gripped the
hem of her shirt and drew it over her head, dropping it to the floor beside her. Cassidy
sucked in a breath and then leaned down to brush a light kiss across her lips. "You are
so beautiful," he breathed as he peppered her jaw and throat with kisses.
She reached out blindly, clasping his shoulders for support as his lips continued
downward. His hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing her tight nipples.
Blythe whimpered as desire shot from her breasts to her pussy and back again as
Cassidy continued to touch her.
His breath was warm and moist against her breasts as he nuzzled first one and then
the other. Blythe wanted more. Wanted his mouth and his tongue to ease the ache that
seemed to swell within her. As if he'd heard her unspoken plea, he stroked his tongue
across one taut peak, making her shudder with need. Then he blew on the hard bud
before drawing it into his mouth and suckling.
She slid her fingers into his hair and dug her nails into his scalp, pulling him closer.
Cassidy groaned and suckled harder. Blythe could feel the moisture seeping from her
pussy and sliding down her inner thigh. Her hips were swaying back and forth in a
primal mating rhythm, silently urging Cassidy onward.
He released her suddenly and surged upward. Taken off guard, she tumbled down