She uncurled her leg from him and staggered back, somehow managing to stay upright in her ridiculous heels. Kirk blinked, obviously taken by surprise.
“Cassie?”
Her voice was lost somewhere in her lungs. Sweat beaded between her breasts as she prayed for strength to return to her legs. Dizzy and disoriented, she leaned against the back of a couch, pulling at her dress to cover her bare thigh.
“Uh, that’s some kiss you have there, Kirk.” Her rib cage ached from the effort of talking. “I-I never knew it could be so, uh, lethal.”
He tugged at his shirt, undoing several buttons. “Did I succeed in making you forget?”
The wedge of tanned, toned chest bared by his half-opened shirt made her forget everything. Belatedly, she realized she was gawping at him. She snapped her jaw shut and hoped she hadn’t been drooling.
“Oh, oh yeah. Totally.”
“That’s too bad,” he said huskily, lifting a strand of hair from her flushed cheek. “I wouldn’t mind making you forget some more.”
The brush of his fingers sent a quiver of longing right down to her toes. Even the lightest touch from Kirk was enough to combust her.
Keep it cool. Don’t let him guess how much his kisses mean to you.
She forced a light laugh that made her ribs creak. “Maybe we should keep some in reserve. You know, don’t burn through the fuel all at once.”
Kirk’s eyebrows lifted. Could he tell she was lying?
“I’ve got fuel enough,” he said slowly, “but you’re right. We’ve probably done enough forgetting for one night.”
He tucked his hands into his pockets, and regret panged in her at the realization she wouldn’t have those captivating hands on her anymore tonight. But she should count herself lucky for bailing out before he found out how completely at his mercy she was.
She backed away, half-smiling, half-grimacing, feeling slightly idiotic, not knowing how to make a graceful exit from a situation she’d never expected.
“I guess I’ll say good night, then,” she said.
His gaze wandered over her one last time. “Good night, Cassie,” he murmured, sounding annoyingly right back in control. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Chapter Five
Kirk spent another restless night alone in bed, kept awake by images of Cassie in his arms, warm and vibrant and unforgivably desirable. His stubborn erection throbbed each time he relived her kisses and the way her supple body moved beneath his touch. Holy hell, who would have thought Cassie Cooper could have such a devastating effect on him? Tonight she’d completely blown his mind.
But after several hours of sweaty dreams and a little self-relief, his logic returned, and with it some powerful misgivings. After those scorching few minutes downstairs, how could they go back to being friends like before? Wouldn’t things be awkward in the morning? What if they could never be comfortable with each other again? The possibility chilled him. In the morning they’d have to talk, he decided. They had to sort this out before it got too complicated and messy.
He slept in fits and starts, eventually waking up early. He went downstairs to his gym and worked out some of his frustration on his weights and treadmill. After an hour, he went back upstairs. The house was quiet, and there was no sign of Cassie. Maybe she was avoiding him on purpose. His gut cramped at the thought.
He showered, dressed, and made his way to the kitchen. At the entrance he stopped short, brought to a halt by the sight of Cassie at the coffee machine.
“Want some coffee?” she asked cheerily, like it was just a normal morning. She was dressed in dark jeans, striped blouse, and flat sandals, her face freshly scrubbed, her hair tied back in a no-nonsense ponytail. Nothing remained of the slinky siren from last night with her high heels, garter belt, and thong.
“Yeah, sure,” he muttered, unable to stop himself watching her as she turned to get an extra mug from the kitchen cabinet. Those jeans flattered her long legs and tight ass. His groin stirred. Dammit, this was what he’d been afraid of. Even when dressed her usual self, Cassie played havoc with his imagination.
She poured him out a mug and pushed it to him across the island countertop. “What’s up?” she asked.
Just my cock. He pressed his lips together. “Why do you ask?”
“You look like you ate something disagreeable.” She paused to take a sip of coffee. Her eyes seemed wary over the rim of her mug. “Um, I hope it’s nothing to do with last night…” She trailed off, sounding uncertain.
“Last night was…unexpected.”
She traced a finger around the rim of her mug. “Yeah, I’ll say. It’s not every night I end up kissing my best friend. But it’s no big deal, is it?”
Tell that to my dick.
He took a deep breath. “I’m just your rebound guy, right?”
“Not just. It’s an important role.” She studied the depths of her coffee mug. “You know me, Kirk. I can trust you. You’re helping me get over Russell, and that’s great. That’s what friends are for.”
“So we’re still friends, then?”
Cassie glanced up, her eyes widening. “Of course. We’ll always be friends. The fact that…that we enjoy a bit of kissing has no bearing on that.” A pink hue tinged her cheeks.
The tight ball in his chest he’d had all night loosened a little. So many women took a simple kiss to mean much more than it did, but not Cassie. She was level-headed, pragmatic. She enjoyed his kissing, but for her it was therapy, and by kissing her, he was showing her how much he valued their friendship. A win-win situation.
“Glad to hear it.” He downed another gulp of coffee. “Is it working?”
“Is what working?”
“The kissing. Is it helping you forget about Russell?”
“Oh.” The pink in her cheeks deepened to red. “Sure. You’re a good kisser, buddy.”
He shouldn’t ask, but he couldn’t help it. “Better than Russell?”
The red reached the roots of her hair, making her look adorably cute and flustered. “I don’t know if I should answer that.”
Instantly he was ashamed and uneasy. Had he upset her by bringing up Russell? Was she remembering what it was like kissing Russell? Maybe she still missed the guy.
The spike was back in his chest, but this time for a different reason. “What did he do to make you break up with him?” Kirk asked.
She chewed on her lower lip, the blush fading from her cheeks. “He, uh, he was selfish and…” She blew out a sigh. “Look, if you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about it right now.”
“Why not?” Had Russell hurt her badly? He realized his hands had curled into fists.
“It’s…difficult.” She lifted a shoulder, her expression nettled.
“Okay.” He forced his hands to relax. “But I’m here whenever you need to talk.”
“Thanks.” She tilted her head to one side. “And that goes for me, too, you know. If you ever need someone to talk to.”
He blinked in surprise at the sudden switch in the conversation. “I know that.”
He turned to put his mug in the sink, but Cassie moved at the same time, blocking him. “And it doesn’t have to be me. You could talk to Emilio or Jerry or any of the gang.”
He did a double take at her. “What do you mean? Why do you want me to talk to anyone?”
“Because you keep so much hidden inside you.” She set down her mug and linked her hands together. “You don’t often talk about what’s eating you. That’s the way you’ve always been, I know that, and I’m not saying you should change. But sometimes it’s good to open up to someone. Like I said, it doesn’t have to be me. It could be any of your friends.”
Kirk stared at her in amazement. “Where’s this all coming from?” A horrible thought hit him. “Is it because of Alison? You think I haven’t gotten over her death?”
“I was there after the funeral.” Cassie’s face had paled right over. “You hadn’t eaten or washed or slept in days.”
His memories of that day Cassie had come to his house were distorted like a shattered mirror. He’d never managed to remember all the details, but he was acutely aware that Cassie had seen him at the nadir of his despair.
“That was then.” His jaw flexed under the grinding of his teeth. “I’m fully recovered now.”
The last thing he needed now was a discussion about Alison. He couldn’t tell Cassie the truth about his wife or his marriage. Didn’t want to. That was in the past; he’d learned his lesson, and only a fool made the same mistake twice.
“I don’t need to talk about her, if that’s what you’re implying.” He moved resolutely around her and dumped his empty mug in the sink. “But thanks for offering.”
A glimpse of utter sadness flitted through Cassie’s eyes, and for a second it felt like his chest had been pierced by a white-hot needle. What could make her so bleak?
“Anytime,” she answered briskly, the moment of melancholy gone. She poured the remains of her coffee down the sink and rinsed out both their mugs, making a lot of splashing and noise.
Should he tell her the truth about his marriage? All his insides clammed up at the prospect. Nope, he wasn’t going to go there again. Didn’t need to relive the pain of his disillusionment. Didn’t want Cassie to know how wrong and stupid he’d been.