Alison had altered for the better, but one thing hadn’t changed. She’d asked him not to tell people how dire their marriage had been. She hadn’t achieved much in her life, the one thing she did have was her marriage, and she wanted to protect that memory. Kirk had agreed. God knew, he didn’t want to discuss his errors in judgment. It was easy to grant her a last wish. Everyone assumed he was grief-stricken because he was so in love with Alison. No one knew he’d cried for her and her alone, not for a love that didn’t exist.
Like everyone else, Cassie didn’t know the truth about Alison, and he hoped it stayed that way. He didn’t want to dwell on the past. He’d far rather think about the future, like what might happen when dinner was over and his relatives left him and Cassie alone.
He shrugged off his gloomy memories and focused on Cassie sitting opposite him.
She was wearing the green-and-yellow sweater that Russell had given her. Why had she done that? Because she’d been thinking of him? Kirk frowned. He loathed that sweater. The more he looked at it, the more he wanted to pull it right off her. Wanted to rub himself all over her, like a mountain lion marking its territory.
Christ, she was turning him into a caveman. He sized up her frame. She might be taller and bigger than average, but he reckoned, if need be, he could easily sling her over his shoulder and carry her off to his lair. And once he got her there, they’d have a lot of fun wrestling each other’s clothes off.
Yeah, he was looking forward to that.
…
Cassie stored the mustard back in the pantry as Kirk returned from dumping the empty bottles in the recycling bin. Lex, Jacinta, and Holly had left fifteen minutes ago, and since then she’d been helping Kirk clear up. She liked it that he cleaned up after himself even though he had a very efficient housekeeper.
“It was good seeing Holly again,” Cassie said. “And I like Lex and Jacinta. They seem a perfect match.”
“Yeah, my cousin sure met his match in Jacinta.” Kirk stacked the last dirty plate in the dishwasher.
The slight tenseness in his voice caught her attention. She remembered that Alison had once been Lex’s girlfriend before she’d moved on to Kirk. “Is there still some awkwardness between you and Lex because of Alison?”
Kirk gave her a strange look. “No. That blew over years ago, and he’s hysterically happy with Jacinta. You saw how they were touching each other all night long.”
“I talked too much about my sister’s wedding,” Cassie said. “I didn’t mean to…”
“To what?”
“To remind you of yours.”
He grabbed a dishcloth and wiped down the bench, his movements vigorous. “You didn’t.”
His short reply hinted that she had. She remembered his and Alison’s wedding with painful clarity—the Gatsby-esque party on the Hancock’s country estate, the glittering reception with Alison transformed by mountains of silk tulle into a fairy princess, the cold sickness that gripped Cassie for days. If only she could wipe that day from her memory.
“Ever think you’ll get married again?” she asked softly.
“No. What about you?”
How quickly he deflected the question away from him. “You sound very sure of yourself.”
“I am.” He tossed the dishcloth aside and rested his hands on his hips. “I’m very sure this isn’t something I want to discuss. And you haven’t answered my question.”
“Me? Get married?” She managed a light laugh. “That’s the last thing on my mind.”
“Good. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s move onto something more important.”
The glint in his eye made her back straighten as a frisson of anticipation ran down her spine. All day she’d relived his kisses, savoring the memory of his arms around her. She’d be kidding herself if she said she wasn’t hoping for a repeat performance tonight. But however much she wanted him, she had to maintain her casual facade.
“And what would that be?” she asked, flicking back her hair.
“That sweater of yours.” He jutted his chin at her. “Why’re you wearing it?”
She glanced down at the piece of clothing. “Why? Because it’s comfortable, and it’s the first thing I laid my hands on when I went to change this evening.”
“It’s the sweater Russell gave you.” He jabbed a finger toward her. “You’re not pining for him, are you?”
She’d forgotten the sweater was a gift from her friend. Kirk seemed quite put out by it, which made her gulp.
“I’m not pining for anyone,” she said as steadily as possible.
He stepped right up to her and curled his fingers into the hem of her sweater. With his gaze fixed on her, he dragged her closer until they were only inches apart.
“Take it off, then,” he murmured, “or I will.”
Her heart stumbled at the dark intent in his voice. Kirk was always so self-contained and controlled, but now his primitive side was showing, and she had to admit it thrilled her.
She tipped up her head. In her flats he had three inches on her, so she rose on tiptoe to meet him at eye level. “I don’t take my clothes off just because you tell me to.”
His eyes flared. He fisted his hand more tightly around her sweater. “It’s obvious you need more therapy to get over Russell, or you wouldn’t be wearing that sweater, which, by the way, is fucking ugly.”
“It is not. It’s a Wallabies rugby jumper.”
“Jumper? You mean a one-piece thingy?”
“A jumper is a sweater in Australia.”
Kirk shook his head. “Looks like I’ll have to Americanize you all over again. Starting with this sweater.” His grip tightened.
She put her hand over his to stop him. Excitement tingled through her. She was loving this animal side of him; she wanted to bring it out some more.
“Have you always been like this? I never realized you could be so bossy.”
“It’s you. You’re arguing just for the sake of arguing.”
“I don’t want you to think I’m a pushover.”
He laughed softly, his other hand closing on top of hers. “Cassie, if you were a pushover, that sweater would’ve disappeared long ago. Now quit teasing me.”
He plucked her hand away and folded it behind her back, the movement bringing her hard up against him. Her body tingled as her breasts pressed up against his chest. Almost faint with anticipation, she waited for him to kiss her. When he did, his mouth was hot and ravenous on hers, his passion arousing. She couldn’t help whimpering as she kissed him back, inhibition fading, hunger rising to meet his. He flicked his tongue over her lower lip then slid it into her mouth, the practiced sweep exciting her.
She curled her free hand around his neck and ran her fingers up through the rough silk of his hair. So many times she’d yearned to do this, and now she could without embarrassment. Eager to explore more, she skimmed her lips over his jaw, laying quick, little kisses along his sculpted chin, before moving up to his earlobe where she couldn’t resist giving him a light nibble.
“Oh, mm.” His surprised intake of air showed his appreciation before he gathered her closer and buried his face into the curve of her neck.
The feel of his stubble against her skin was electric. His chest pushed her breasts up, making her nipples tingle, while the feel of his muscular denim-clad thighs rubbing her bare legs sent heat rushing to her center. She found herself shuddering with delight, arching herself into his embrace. God, she couldn’t get close enough to him. He bit her gently with his lips, working his way slowly from her ear right down the length of her throat until he reached the neckline of her sweater.
“This is coming off right now,” he growled in a voice that brooked no argument.
He grabbed the hem of the sweater and hauled it up, giving her no option but to lift her arms to assist him. He yanked off the offending sweater and hurled it across the kitchen, then came to a halt when he registered the white tank top she was wearing underneath.
He hauled in a breath. “No bra,” he wheezed.
A warm blush rose up her neck. She was indeed bra-less, and the thin tank top did nothing to disguise her erect nipples. No need for Kirk to guess how turned on she was.
“My bridesmaid’s bra was killing me. I had to get it off when I got home.”
“And you were hiding this from me all night with that god-awful sweater. Damn, first chance I get, I’m burning that thing.”
He settled his hands on her hips and kissed her again. This time his kiss was slow and deliberate, his lips possessive.
“Isn’t it my turn to take your top off?” she eventually asked after a breathless few minutes that left her nipples even more erect.
His stormy gray-blue eyes dazzled her. “Be my guest.”
It wasn’t that easy to strip him of his black T-shirt. Her hands were unsteady, and the T-shirt was a tight fit, but finally it was off, and for the first time she could feast her eyes without shame on his bare chest. Her fingers caressed the sculpted lines of his pectorals, trying to be leisurely, but the lure of him was too great, and she dipped her head to taste him, gliding her lips and tongue over his warm, delicious muscle.
“Cassie,” he groaned, his hands winding into her hair to bring her up before his mouth crushed onto hers.