Could he walk away? He didn’t think it was possible. Not as long as he could feel her body heating for his, as long as he could feel that response for him in her kiss.
“No, you wouldn’t, Casey,” she denied as he finally felt her softening in his arms. “You’d just try to find another way to convince me.”
Hell, she knew him too well.
He hadn’t expected that.
“Why don’t you just tell me what you want from me, Casey.”
They both came to a stop as the music faded away.
His head lifted as she turned her gaze up to him, those deep violet eyes nearly drowning him in the knowledge, the sadness that filled them.
“Tell you what?” he asked her softly. “How much I want you? How hard you make me? Hell, Sheila, you already know all that.”
She shook her head softly. “No, Casey. Why don’t you just go ahead and tell me what you want from me, or from my father. Don’t you know I still want you so desperately that I’d probably give it to you, or convince Dad to do it? You don’t have to play these games with me. You never did have to play these games with me.”
You never leave a lady standing on the dance floor.
Never curse a lady.
A lady was a lady even when she wasn’t behaving like a lady.
Never embarrass a lady in front of friends and coworkers. Especially if she holds a position of power.
Those lessons had been drummed into him as a child before his parents’ deaths.
He could remember lazy summer mornings as a young boy spent fishing on the banks of the river that eventually killed his parents and listening to the amusing assortment of rules his father had attempted to teach him where women were concerned.
Those lessons came in handy now.
He allowed his fingers to deliberately curl around her upper arm as he led her from the floor and back to the bar. He should have left her at the bar. Hell, he should have parked her right at the bar with Sarah and Cooper and left himself.
Hanging around was the worst thing he could have done. And allowing himself this confrontation with Sheila was sure a real bad decision.
He just couldn’t seem to help himself.
Anger, resentment, and pure male pride had him by the throat while lust still had him by the balls.
It was a hell of a combination.
And even as he pulled her past a watchful Morgan and shouldered open the swinging door that led to the kitchen and offices, he knew he was making a damned mistake.
It might even be the biggest mistake of his life.
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SIX
This was what she got for being honest, Sheila thought as she allowed Casey to pull her into one of the small offices. This was what she got for trying to lay to rest the doubts that filled her own mind, and to get whatever relationship they had on an equal footing.
He was pissed.
She could feel that anger vibrating through his body and threatening his control.
She didn’t know whether to be frightened or turned on, because she had never seen Casey like this. She had never seen him so angry that his eyes glowed like burning chocolate, backlit with a tobacco flame.
She had a glimpse of those eyes as he swung her around at the desk, placed his hands on both sides of her and leaned into her until they were nose to nose.
“Do I look like a fucking man whore to you?” he snarled into her face, causing her to flinch with the rage in his voice. “Do I look like someone who would fuck a woman to gain anything other than both their damned pleasure?”
His words seemed to pierce a part of her that instantly latched on to the end of his statement.
“Their pleasure,” he said. As though it was a lover’s pleasure and satisfaction that caused his own.
“Casey, I never meant—” She hadn’t meant it to sound that way.
But the rest of the words were cut off.
“The fucking hell you didn’t.” His nose was touching hers.
His eyes were so dark they were nearly black, body heat pouring from him in waves as rage seemed to burn through his system. “That’s exactly what you meant, Sheila. Was I a fucking man whore willing to climb between your legs for a favor from you where your damned father is concerned? Do you want to know what I think of any favors your father could fucking give me? Do you, Sheila?” he all but yelled in her face.
“Not really.” Weak, more submissive than she liked, her voice trembled as her gaze held his.
Not in fear, but in a variety of other emotions. Emotions she wasn’t certain she knew how to adapt to.
She only wished her response to this new, volcanic Casey was fear. Fear would have been easier to handle. It would have been far easier to understand than the other emotions she felt.
Especially the lust. The hunger.
The angrier he became, the more she wanted him.
She could feel her nipples hardening and tightening, growing more sensitive by the second as he glared into her eyes.
“Not really?” he snarled back at her. “Maybe I want to tell you anyway. Just for the fucking hell of it.”
“If you feel you have to.” She shrugged, almost catching her breath at the feel of her nipples raking against the material of her bra.
And she wasn’t the only one who felt the lust. Amid his anger, that hunger was there as well. The feel of his
