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  Although it's night, the weather has been relentless. It's been close to a hundred degrees during the day and nights haven't cooled off much. The plan had been to go swimming tonight, but we never made it to the pool. Somehow we ended up stargazing, laying in each other's arms on the lawn.

  My voice catches at the back of my throat, "Cassie..." I try to warn her how close I am to breaking, how much I want to throw her to the ground and make love to her.

  "Please, Jon." Her voice is barely there, a whisper at most.

  I don't know what she wants, because it can't be what I think she wants. This is a bad idea. I try to get up, but she's sitting on me. That perfect ass is so close to my hands. Hell, my hands are on her skin, under her shirt. That's the go-ahead to feel-up any other woman, but for some reason my hands are anchored to her waist. I'm paralyzed. I want to move, but I can't. Okay, I don't want to move, but I know I should, and for Cassie I would... But, the way she's looking at me combined with the weight of her body against mine is commandeering my thoughts. My fingers tense, and I try not to hold onto her even though her skin feels like heaven in my hands.

  She sucks in a small breath, leans down and presses a kiss to my cheek. The moment her lips touch my skin I suck in air like there'll never be enough. Cassie lingers with her face next to mine, and her hand plays in my hair, curling it around her finger. She seems to be lost in thought. Several minutes pass before she says, "Sometimes things don't happen the way I thought they would. I want things, Jon, and I want them with you. I don't know what to do."

  Stroking her hair, I answer, "I'm not thee guy, Cass. I wish to God I was, but—"

  She doesn't let me finish. Her hand finds my face and she starts trailing the pad of her finger over my cheek and down to my mouth. She sits up slightly so she can see what she's doing. When Cassie's finger touches the corner of my mouth, my lips part, and a small gasp passes my lips. Her soft touch slips over my upper lip, tracing the bow so gently. It's taking a massive amount of willpower to stay still and let her do what she wants, and I wish to God that I could know what she's thinking, because it seems like she's changing her mind. Cassie's not talking and there's a pensive look on her face. It's not blind lust that I see.

  Cassie's touch drifts to my lower lip, and as she slips it across my mouth she leans in and presses her lips just to the side of mine. I feel her heart pounding hard and fast as she lays on my chest again. Cassie cradles my face in her hands and I want to die because I can't have her. At the same time, I can't deny her this, even though it's making me crazy. I've never wanted someone so much in my entire life. My hands fist at my sides and I tear holes into the lawn, so that I won't touch her the way I want to. Everything within me wants to cup her face and kiss her back.

  This is new for me, so I let my thoughts drift as my eyes close and I enjoy the way she touches me. Every time her hands sweep over me, the tension thickens. I wonder if the bomb threw her the way it did me. Since the museum, I keep wondering if I've wasted my life. If everything ended there, what regrets would I have? Time after time the question surfaces in my mind, and I don't want to think about it because I can't change the one thing I regret most. I'll never have a shot with Cassie, no matter how much I change, because it's not the future that matters to her, it's the past and I can't change that.

  So I keep my mouth shut and my eyes closed, and get lost in the moment. Things like this don't happen between us. Cassie is always so careful to keep her distance. Chance landed us in this position and I'm not ending it. I'd wrap my arms around her and hold on tight if I knew that it wouldn't spook her, because that's what frightens me most—that Cassie will realize what she's doing and stop. Or even worse, she'll regret it.

  Cassie's hands sweep over me like she's memorizing the planes of my face. Her warm breath becomes shallower as her breathing quickens. The small kisses started off as a quick peck, but now her lips linger and they inch closer and closer to my mouth. Then something changes. I'm not sure who started it, but her hips are moving slowly, rubbing against mine as her thighs tighten around me. It breaks me. I can't keep my hands off of her.

  I take her waist in my hands and pull her down against me, trying to still her. I'm already hard, and the way she's gyrating against me is going to make me lose it. I don't know what I expect, but when she looks down at me, every rational thought flies out of my brain. Those eyes—the way they look at me in this moment – say everything.

  My pulse surges when I realize what I see in her eyes. Cassie changed her mind.

  Cassie's voice is softer this time, more timid. She reaches for my hands, and puts them back under the hem of her shirt and draws them higher. My fingers slip over her skin as I fight every urge building inside of me. Cassie sucks in a sharp breath, as she guides my hands to her bra. I feel the sheer fabric and her warm skin beneath. Her nipples are taut, pushing against the material, demanding to be freed. Her eyes are locked with mine while she does it. "Touch me, Jon. Please."

  I don't pull my hands away when she drops my wrists. Cassie watches me for a moment, but when I smooth my thumb over her nipple her back goes straight and her thighs tighten against mine. Her head tips back and she holds her breath until I do it again. I'm drowning in lust, unable to think. My hands are filled with her breasts and I'm more turned on than I've ever been, because it's her. I tease, working her nipple through the thin fabric, pinching and pulling gently, which makes her gasp again and again. Her back arches and it begins again—Cassie's hips start to sway. They move slowly at first, probably because of what I'm doing to her breasts, and the more she moves, the more I touch her. The heat between us is scorching. I want to bury my dick inside of her and push in deeper and harder until she comes and screams my name.

  Fuck, I can't think. We need to stop. She's going to regret this. I can't let her do it. The thought is lost as Cassie's slow grinding goes wild. She rides me, rubbing against me like she can't stop. Her tits bounce in my hands as she slams into me. Little sounds come from the back of her throat. She tries to hide them at first and then gives up. I know I should stop her, but I can't. I can't do anything except this.

  Breathless, Cassie raises her hands and rests her arms on top of her head. She rocks her hips over and over against me, with only a few layers of clothing between us. Her pace becomes frantic and she suddenly throws herself down onto my chest. Her nails bite through my shirt and into my shoulders as I grab her ass and pull her down harder. I moan incoherently as she rides me. Each thrust is harder and faster and I don't want her to stop. I want to see her face when she comes.

  Reality slams into me. She can't come. Not like this. Not with me. She'll never forgive herself. My body is so fucking hot and I need her so much, but I don't want her to hate me in the morning. I force myself to wrap my arms around her and crush her against my chest so that she can't move.

  Cassie gasps. She's laying on top of me and I can feel her heart racing inside her chest. I manage to say, "We need to stop." At first she struggles, but after a moment she stops. Her body loses some of the tension and she trembles. "You'll regret this, baby. I know you will." My hand strokes her back as we lay there together. I wonder if it was stupid to stop her. Maybe she changed her mind a while ago and never said anything, but I can't chance her hating me. I couldn't bear that.

  I hold her tight, not wanting to let go, when she rolls off of me. She speaks into my shoulder, avoiding my eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

  Reaching for her, I play with the long curls hanging down her back. "You don't have to apologize. You can use my body whenever you want. I could have made you come, and fuck, I wanted that more than anything, but I lov—" I catch myself just as the word is about to leave my lips. A cold sensation trickles through my heart when I realize what I was going to say. I love you, Cass. I couldn't do that to you. I love her. The seeds of fear scatter and make me shiver.

  Cassie glances down at me, her face unreadable, before she lowers herself and lays at my side. She buries her face in my
chest as I hold onto her. "But what?"

  I consider saying it, but I can't. The words are lodged somewhere in the back of my throat. I hedge, "What made you do that?"

  She shrugs. "I shouldn't have."

  "Did you change your mind, Cass?"

  "Maybe." She presses her lips together and is quiet for a few minutes. "I don't know what I think about things anymore. I was so sure before I met you, but now—I just don't know. You probably think I'm silly giving this much thought to being with one guy. Meanwhile, you've been banging a different girl every night of the week since summer started." She rolls onto her side and looks up at me. For a second I think she's joking, but the soft smile on her face says otherwise. She doesn't realize what she's done to me.

  Our eyes lock and the urge to pour my heart out overtakes me. I could laugh and agree with her, but I don't want to. I want my shot with Cassie Hale and this is it. Lifting my hand to her face, I trail it over her soft skin and say, "You might think that, but the truth is, I haven't slept with anyone since I got here."

  She blinks at me. "Why not?"

  "Because I want you."

  CHAPTER 16

  CASSIE

  There's no way he said it, but he did. I heard him. "You haven't had sex since you met me?" He shakes his head. His blue eyes are so dark, and they fixate on me unashamed. My body tenses and the feeling that I'm in over my head crashes into me again. It was a stupid idea to lay down with him. When I asked him to touch me, I meant for him to run his hands over my skin, but then I couldn't stop. I like the idea of Jon's hands on me, and I wanted to be in his arms—no, I wanted to lose myself in his arms. I wanted to feel that release as I came, and... Oh God.

  As soon as the thought drifts through my mind, I bolt upright and sit on the grass next to him, clutching my knees like a lawn gnome. I'm so conflicted. Part of me wants to give in, but I've had this belief for so long. Abandoning it now seems foolish. Am I a fool? Is my body so driven by lust that I can't control myself or is it more than that?

  A very rational voice echoes in the back of my mind, It's more than that, much more.

  "Cassie," Jon's hand is on my back as he sits up. It sends a shiver through me and it's impossible to deny how much I want him. How did this happen? I'm ready to jump up and run all the way back to Aunt Paula's house, but Jon takes my wrist. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, watching him as he lifts my hand close to his face. "Tell me what you want, baby. I'll give it to you. All you have to do is ask me."

  A jagged breathe escapes me and I glance over at him. "I don't know what I want. I want more, but I don't want to throw away everything I believe so fast. I don't want to regret this, Jon."

  "So let's do a little more, something you won't regret. Something that's fairly innocent, but feels like more." He's watching me, waiting for my approval, but I don't know what he means. The question must be written on my face because Jon smiles softly and takes my hand.

  Glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, I watch as he lifts my wrist to his lips. Jon turns it over so the soft part, just below my palm, is nearly on his mouth. When he breathes, something stirs inside of me. I imagine his mouth on my wrist and am surprised how hard it makes my heart pound. A jolt of tingles shoots through me when I think about it, and it's strange because I've never thought about it before. I avert my eyes quickly, but he doesn't drop my hand.

  "What if I kissed you here?" His finger presses to the inside of my wrist, making my stomach flutter. He draws a circle before I feel his eyes on my cheek again. Jon leans toward me, trying to catch my eye. "It's a pulse point, one of the most sensitive spots on your body. It'll make you feel good without changing everything you believe tonight. Right? I mean, you didn't have wedding night plans that involved wrist kissing, did you?" He smiles at me and leans in close, touching his forehead to mine.

  "No, I didn't really think about it before now." I feel silly asking, but I ask anyway, "Have you done this before? Of course you have. Why'd I even say that? You've been—" I begin to prattle as my face turns red and I look away.

  Jon hooks his finger under my chin and forces our gazes to meet. The corners of his mouth turn up, "I haven't done this before. It's too sweet and innocent, so I blew right past it. But I thought you'd like it. This kind of kiss is a middle ground. It's not as intimate as some kisses, but more so than others."

  Nervous energy flutters through my stomach, as I lay back on the grass, and lift my hand to him. It's nonverbal permission. We're alone, in the dark, far from the house and the noise. I close my eyes and feel my heart race in my chest as Jon lays next to me and takes my hand. My stomach flips when I feel his breath on my skin and my skin becomes hypersensitive. When his lips brush against my wrist, a surprised sound comes from the back of my throat and I tense up next to him.

  When he pauses between kisses, he says, "Tell me if you change your mind."

  I can barely breathe. "I will."

  He presses his mouth against my inner wrist again and I gasp louder this time. The sensation scares me, making me feel completely vulnerable as tingles shoot through every inch of my body. I resist it and try to fight back the surge of emotions that threaten to overtake me. I stare at him as his tongue sweeps across my skin.

  He sees me and smiles. "I bet you have a toe fetish."

  "I do nahhhh..." My offense had a lot more to it before he kissed me again. His lips move over that one spot, licking, sucking, and tasting me. My eyes close and I try to savor the sensations, but I can't. They're so strong, and every time his mouth touches me, I want to wrap my legs around him.

  The kisses grow hotter, and longer, making me want to writhe slowly on the grass, but I fight it and hold my hips still. I'm afraid of what will happen if I let go and enjoy the sensations. I don't know what it'll do or what it means. Jon's my friend, but his lips are attached to my wrist and the urges he's evoking aren't friendly. I want his hands tangled in my hair with his naked body pressed to mine. I want to know the taste of his kiss and learn the curve of his mouth. I'm not asexual, I've had these thoughts before, but not like this. These are clear desires, dreams almost. They're things I hope for, wishes that I'm too afraid to recognize.

  Jon's eyes are closed and I watch his face as he kisses me. That turns out to be a mistake, because his expression is so carnal, so sexual that the pulsing between my legs is unbearable. Closing my eyes, I take my free hand and claw the ground next to me, arching my back as I do it. I want to surrender to the feelings. I want them to overtake me and pull me under, but I can't. I cling to my mind even though it's trying to abandon me. I can't think. I just want his mouth—his hot, wet tongue—to lick my stomach and slide up higher and higher, inch by inch, to my aching breasts. Every kiss of my wrist pushes me closer to the edge until I'm clinging there with everything I have.

  Breathless, Jon stops and looks over at me. "Let go, Cassie. I won't hurt you, baby. Let go."

  I clutch the ground and rip out the grass. My chest rises and falls too quickly. It feels like my heart will rupture inside my body and I'll die if I let go, if I surrender my control. Jon smiles softly and sits next to me. He shifts me so that my head is in his lap, and I'm laying on my back, looking up at the sky. His thighs are around my shoulders, cradling me, as Jon lifts my other wrist to his lips.

  My body tenses as I fight the sensation of wicked urges. I can't give into him, but I want to. I want to let myself feel whatever it is to be lost in Jonathan Ferro. My eyes flicker as I gasp, caught in the middle. It's like I'm desperately clutching a ledge, about to fall off. My fingers are tearing and my nails are ripping, but I can't let go.

  That's when I tense and lift off his lap slightly. Jon's other hand guides me back down and strokes my cheeks. "Trust me, Cass. Let go."

  Those words, they push me over the edge and my body relaxes in his lap. Jon strokes my skin as his lips travel over my skin. Tingles shoot through me like fireworks, arching my back, and pushing my pulse faster. I tug my arm away, but Jon locks it to hi
s lips, continuing to press his mouth and sweeping his tongue over my sensitive flesh. My jaw falls open and I moan as my chest lifts again, needing the touch of his hand on my breast. I'm an animal in this state. I can't think and I don't want to. I want to feel, and I do. I feel more and want more. His mouth is heaven and I'm aching for him to touch me.

  This isn't sex. I have no idea what this is, but it's not what I imagined I'd be doing with my husband on my wedding night—or ever. It's so different, and I want it so much. Moaning his name, I turn my face toward his. "Jon."

  My body is tightening into thick coils. I feel them inside of me as I grow hotter and the place between my legs throbs for his attention. Gasping, I tilt my head back and close my eyes. My heart races so hard that I think I'm going to die.

  At that moment, Jon whispers in my ear, "I love you, Cass."

  Those words. They jerk me out of my stupor and I dart out of his lap. I can't catch my breath and don't trust my knees to hold, but I jump up anyway. With my hand to my heart, I stare at him.

  Jon's on his feet and stepping toward me. "Cass..." He lifts his hands to me, but I'm paralyzed.

  Fear and mistrust mingle inside my mind as panic races through me. I try to stop it, but I can't. He doesn't love me. Guys like him say things like that to girls like me because it's what we want to hear, not because it's true. I'm suddenly livid, caught between tears and anger.

  "Do you say that to all the girls? Or is it just for the ones who are stupid like me?" I don't mean any of it, but the words pour out of my mouth, and I can't stop them.

  Jon steps toward me with a wounded look on his face. "You don't mean that."

  "How am I supposed to believe you? Tell me, Jon! I need to know—" I'm sob-yelling now, gasping for air that won't come.