Page 80 of Handcuffed to the Bear

And she leaned forward at the same time he did, both of them moving together, closing the distance between them and meeting in the middle. When his lips met hers, it felt like coming home.

They started with gentle licks and nibbles, his teeth closing lightly on her lower lip, her tongue brushing the corner of his mouth. And then his mouth closed on hers, and the heat that had been simmering between them flared into suddenly, almost uncontrollable lust.

She kissed him like a drowning woman given air; she kissed him like he’d just pulled her from a fire, like his kiss was the lifeblood that sustained her.

For two years she’d struggled to feel nothing. She’d hidden herself behind walls made of vengeance, and she’d reshaped herself into a tool to penetrate her enemies’ defenses. The last person she had dared to love had been Wendy, and that had been torn away from her. She’d never been a strongly emotional person in any case, but ever since Wendy’s disappearance she had locked herself down. She had ruthlessly shut away her loneliness and hidden her tears; she’d fought to excise the parts of herself that yearned for a connection to others, and when they wouldn’t be severed, she had buried them in scar tissue instead.

And now all that pent-up emotion burst from her, a tidal wave of feeling that swept her away. She kissed Jack and kissed him; her hands came up to touch his torso, his face. She had to keep touching him because she could hardly believe this was real, thathewas real.

Jack pulled back and looked at her with eyes filled with affection and desire, a silent question in them:Go forward?

For answer, she carefully lifted off his glasses, leaving his face bare without them. Casey laid them on the coffee table without looking. “I wouldn’t want them to get smudged.”

“No,” he breathed, and cupped her face in his hands. “Good thinking.”

And he bent his head to kiss her face all over—her forehead, her cheeks, the soft skin at the corners of her eyes. Jack kissed his way along her cheek, across her jaw, to the tender skin behind her ear and down the side of her neck. She shivered at each touch, and when he kissed and nibbled at her ear, she buried her face in his neck and breathed in the spicy, masculine smell of him.

They hadn’t even taken off their clothes yet, hadn’t touched anywhere below the waist, but her body burned for want of him. Desire filled her; desperate need for him shook her to the core.

“Jack,” she whispered, and he stilled with his mouth open on her neck. “Jack, Iwant?—”

She had tried so hard not to want. Not to need.

“—Ineed. You.”

“Me too,” he whispered, and followed it up with a trail of searing kisses across her neck and over her shoulder, pulling down the collar of her shirt to touch the skin there.

Casey unbuttoned her shirt and let it fall open, exposing her bra-clad breasts. She’d expected to feel self-conscious—she was always a little nervous when her boyfriends first undressed her, not sure how they’d react to a body that was not exactly a size four. But there was none of that for her now. Of course not; he’d seen it all, every imperfection and stretch mark and the little rolls over her hips. And he didn’t care. He wanted her—she could feel it in his touch, could see it in his eyes when he looked up at her.

He cupped his hands over hers, and then took over the task of undressing her, slipping her shirt over her shoulders and kissing each shoulder as he did it. He unsnapped her bra and slid the straps down.

Her breasts came free, the nipples hard and erect with the desire surging inside her.

Jack cupped them in his big hands. She couldn’t help noticing how perfectly they fit there, as if his hands were made to hold her. He flicked his tongue across one of her nipples and an electric jolt shot through her groin.

“Jack,” she gasped. Now he was playing with the other nipple, running his thumb across it while he swirled his tongue across the first. “Jack, I—I think unless we want to end up having sex on this couch, maybe we should get somewhere a little more ... horizontal?”

“You’re right.” He grinned suddenly, a quick flash of a smile. “Should I put on some Avril Lavigne?”

“You jerk! I’m not making love to Avril Lavigne.”

“I don’t know. I think she’s a very underrated artist.”

As he spoke, he put one arm around her bare back, the other under her knees, and rose carefully, holding her in a bridal carry.

“Jack!” She threw her arm around his neck, feeling the muscles bunched there as he supported her weight. She hadn’t realized he was so strong. “Be careful! Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I won’t do anything that hurts. Trust me.” He kissed her ear and whispered into it, “Unless you want me to.”

He carried her across the living room and into the bedroom. This room was dominated by a huge bed, with the covers rucked over to one side. Here was a little more of the bachelor-pad clutter she’d been expecting—clothes heaped on the floor of the open closet, a bunch of crumpled-up gauze pads stuffed into a trash bag by the door.

“Sorry about the mess,” Jack said. He used one foot to shove a pair of underwear under the bed.

“I don’t care about the mess. You should see my place. I’m impressed by the bed, though,” she added as he laid her on it, moving somewhat stiffly despite what he’d said earlier.

“I’m a big guy. I like my space.”

Lying on her back, Casey unbuttoned her jeans. “I hope you don’t mind sharing a little of that space.”

---