Page 180 of Keeping Kasey
Being forced to choose which cars to keep was cruel, but not necessarily difficult. The Rolls-Royce Phantom Black was the first car in my collection—a present from my father when I was officially named his heir. It’s a limited-edition model, one of only twenty-five made, and I wouldn’t part with it for anything. The bright red Ford GT Carbon Series wasn’t a favorite of mine until recently, when my nephew decided it reminded him ofLightning McQueen. It’s his favorite part of coming to Chicago, and he’d never forgive me for giving it away.
“I’d apologize, but I have a feeling you’ll enjoy rebuilding the collection,” she says with a half-shrug. “And you deserved it.”
“You can keep your apology. I’ll take knowing what you did while you were gone.” I lift a hand when she shoots me a warning glare and tell her, “You can share the details of your pastimes.”
“You ask like I went off on some self-improvement retreat.” She crosses her arms over her chest, but there’s no real defiance there.
I lift one eyebrow.
Kasey sighs. “Flea markets. I went every Saturday in Payson and stopped at a few others along the way.”
“Why?”
“They’re chaotic,” she says with a shrug. “Busy enough that I could blend in, but not too busy that I felt like anyone would recognize me. The booths are almost as interesting as the people-watching. It was easy to get lost for a while.”
“They helped you forget,” I say rather than ask.
Her smile is tinged with sadness. “Not all of us had motels to torch.”
“Just as well. It didn’t work.”
Her laugh is a soft, breathy sound that drives me to wrap my arms around her waist and pull her onto my lap. The lack of argument is a welcome change, and I revel in how freely she lets me hold her.
I take Kasey’s lips in a desperate kiss. With one hand gripping her waist and the other tangled in her curls, I hold her to me like an oxygen mask.
Kissing Kasey feels a lot more important than breathing.
Her body melts to mine, legs locking around my waist as her nails rake down my back, leaving scratches on the brink of breaking skin. Her lips part, and I accept the invitation with my tongue.
The animalistic, downright-violent passion is addictive. It’s a tsunami calling us to drown in its destruction, and we’re running to it like blind fools without a care in the world.
I fall onto the bed and roll over, so I’m holding myself over Kasey, our lips never breaking contact. My hand moves up her body, savoring the feel of her soft skin.
Feeling Kasey, tasting her, breathing her—it’s everything to me.
Sheis everything to me.
“Logan,” she pants, shaking her head in small movements, “I can’t.”
I cradle her face between my hands. “Are you okay?”
Her blue eyes shine with unshed tears, even as she nods.
“I just—I can’t.”
I kiss her temple and simply hold her. If I could, I’d spend the rest of my life right here.
But Kasey has other ideas.
She closes her eyes with a contented sigh, but when she opens them, she pushes herself to the edge of the bed.
“Where are you going?” I ask, hoping I haven’t completely screwed up the limited progress we’ve made tonight.
She grabs her clothes from where they lie in a pile on the floor. “It’s late, and we’ve had a long day. I should get to bed.”
“Kasey…”
She stops, studying me with something that looks a lot like hope. After a charged moment, where I could swear she has the ability to read my mind, Kasey gives me a small, almost imperceptible nod.
