She arched her eyebrows at him. "Why do you want to?"
One thing that had always drawn him to her was the way that her eyes sparkled when she laughed or teased. It wasn't even just when she teased him. He found her joy of life attractive no matter whom she was teasing.
"I'm surprised someone with your upbringing would do something as rude as staring."
"Well I'm a rebel."
"I've always liked that about you."
"What else do you like about me?"
"Your butt."
That surprised him and he leaned back in his chair. "I like yours, too."
"I know," she said, mimicking him from earlier.
The music changed and "Brown-Eyed Girl" by Van Morrison came on. Donovan was pushing back his chair as Cassidy got to her feet. "This is my song."
He knew that. It was always Cassidy's song. With her vibrant brown eyes and her shorter hair dancing around her shoulders, she started to move to the song. And he knew that, no matter what he'd been telling himself, this brown-eyed girl was important to him. At least as important as Tolley-Patterson.
He took her hand in his and drew her into his arms. She sang a bit off-key as they danced around the pool. Her limbs were silky and cool against his as he held her.
She tipped her head back. "I've been afraid of being myself with you."
"How do you mean?"
"Our marriage felt like it was so rushed, and I'm still not entirely sure why you came back when you did … ." She pulled out of his arms. "I guess that part of me didn't want to rock the boat."
"I can understand that. I've been doing the same thing. Just working and keeping to my old routines."
"That's it exactly, but because I'm not working I've been sitting at home stewing and going a bit crazy because I couldn't figure out what was going on with you."
"And now you have me figured out?" he asked, sliding his hands up and down her back. It never ceased to amaze him how small she was or how right she felt in his arms.
"Not you. I figured me out. I was lost for so long, not sure what I was going to do, just waiting for Van to be born so I could figure out my next move. But now he's here and you're here, and I had to get here, too."
Listening to her talk made him feel like a bastard. He was here not because of any great philosophical development but because he needed her. "I didn't journey to you like that."
"It doesn't matter. This isn't about you really."
"Should I be offended?"
She shrugged. "If you want to be."
"Nah. Tell me more about being afraid to be you," he said. The music changed to Jamiroquai's "Virtual Insanity." And as Cassidy danced around him, he realized that she was a bit buzzed. She smiled at him each time she turned to face him.
"I think I didn't know if you could still want me, because I'd changed so much as a woman."
"In what way? By being a mother?"
"No. I mean my body. I've put on some weight and I'm never going to have that flat stomach I used to have."
He pulled her to a stop. "I love your body, Cassidy. Flat stomachs don't attract me-you do."
She tilted her head to the side and eyed him with that level stare of hers. The one that he was sure could see straight into his soul. "Really? The first thing you complimented me on was my slim figure."
"That's only because I thought I'd sound ridiculous if I told you that I loved your laugh and the way you smile when you're teasing."
She quieted and got really serious. "Do you mean that?"
"I don't say things I don't mean."
She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him so tightly that he felt it all the way to his soul. "Being married to you has made me so incredibly happy."
She rested her head on his shoulder and he held her loosely because he desperately wanted to clutch her to him. And men who were afraid to lose what they held were a liability. They stopped looking to the future and only looked to the present, his Granddaddy used to say. Those kind of men were the kind that life left behind.
Chapter Eight
Cassidy was seated at her vanity table when he came into their bedroom from putting Van down in his crib. He set the baby monitor on his nightstand and tried to calm his raging libido. Traditional sex was out of the question; she'd said she couldn't for a few more weeks. But he wanted to make love to her tonight. To seduce her with his lips and hands and give her the concrete reassurances that he still found her attractive.
"Thanks for tucking Van in."
"You're welcome," he said, watching her in the mirror. He walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. Her skin was smooth to the touch-he never got over how soft she was. She smelled sweetly of flowers.
He leaned in low to brush his lips over her shoulder. Her nightgown had spaghetti straps and he kissed his way toward her neck, moving that thin strip of fabric out of his way so that he dropped kisses on every inch of her flesh.
"Donovan," she said his name on a sigh.
"Yes, baby?" he asked.
She turned on the stool and twined her arms around his shoulders, drawing his mouth to hers. Take it slow, he told himself. But slow wasn't in his programming with this woman. She was pure feminine temptation. He lifted her from the padded bench she sat on and set her down on the vanity counter. He slid his hands down her back, finding the hem of her nightgown and pulling it up until he caressed between her legs. She was creamy with desire, and hot.
She moaned deep in her throat and he hardened painfully. He thrust against her, rubbing their groins together until he thought he was going to explode.
He slid the straps of her nightgown down her arms until he could see the tops of her breasts and the barest hint of the rosy flesh of her nipples. He lowered his head, using his teeth to pull the loosened fabric away from her skin.
Her nipples stood out against the cool air in the room. He ran the tip of one fingertip around her aroused flesh. She trembled in his arms.
Lowering his head he took one of her nipples in his mouth and suckled her. She held him to her with a strength that surprised him. But shouldn't have.
Her fingers drifted down his back and then slid under the T-shirt he'd put on to sleep in. She tangled her fingers in the hair on his chest and tugged, spreading her fingers out to dig her nails lightly into his pecs.
He liked the light teasing of her fingernails. She shifted back away from him, and he kept his hands on her breasts. His fingers worked over her nipples as she pushed the shirt up to his armpits. He let go of her for a minute to rip the shirt off and toss it across the room. He growled deep in his throat when she leaned forward to brush kisses against his chest.
She bit and nibbled and made him feel like her plaything. He wanted to sit back and let her have her way with him. But there was no room here. No time for seduction or extended lovemaking.
He pulled her to him and lifted her slightly so that her nipples brushed his chest. Holding her carefully he rubbed against her. Blood roared in his ears. He was so hard, so full right now that he needed to be inside of her body. But tonight he'd have to focus on other things.
Impatient with the fabric of her nightgown, he shoved it up and out of his way. He caressed her creamy thighs. She was so soft. She moaned as he neared her center and then sighed when he brushed his fingertips across the humid opening of her body.
She was warm and wet. He slipped one finger into her body, felt the walls tighten around him and hesitated for a second, looking down into her heavy-lidded eyes. She bit down on her lower lip and he felt the minute movements of her hips as she tried to move his touch where she needed it.
He was beyond teasing her or prolonging anything. He plunged two fingers into her humid body. She squirmed against him.
He needed to taste her now.
He dropped to his knees in front of her, kicking the vanity chair out of his way.
"What are you doing?" she asked, looking down at him.
"Taking care of you," he said.
She murmured something he didn't catch as he lowered his head and touched his tongue to her center. Her thighs flexed around his head and he thrust his fingers in and out of her warm body. Her hands tangled in his hair as he caught her sweet flesh lightly between his teeth and nibbled on her.