Change (15 page)

All of a sudden she blurted out, “I have my reasons for
not telling anyone.”

This piqued the curiosities tenfold. “And they are?”

She licked her lips. Again, another nervous habit that
he knew she would do when she felt cornered. Unfortunately, by doing it, her
tongue had left a trail of moisture on her upper lip and he wished only to kiss
the moisture off and savor the flavor of this woman inside his mouth.

Damnit! Get a grip, Griffen.

“Why do you even care?” she asked, throwing him off
balance.

His eyes glued on the road darted to the dashboard.
The speedometer read one hundred five. Time to slow down. Pulled over by the
cops would ruin his day… as if not ruined already when finding Sara at Tepper’s
and wrapped only in a towel.

Even a blind man wouldn’t have missed the margarita
glasses and sex toys under the cabana. Casey’s eyesight, unfortunately, was
impeccable; his memory more so.

“I just do,” he said, swallowing down the memory of
the towel around her torso, almost painfully.

“No, you do not,” she quibbled. “You care only about
yourself, and what you can gain from others.”

An arch brow sent her way—from a man who never thought
a woman could shock him…until now. “Wow! Got a bit of a thorn stuck up your
ass, do you?”

“Wow! And coming from a guy like you?”

They locked gazes.

“You really are something, Sara,” he elaborated.

“Yeah, something,” she mumbled. She’d purposefully
made it sound as if a bad thing.

“Okay…Sara
Something,
would you please inform
my undying curiosity as to why Tep thought you a mousy, book smart woman, far
too efficient for him to lose?”

“Well he lost me now, hasn’t he? All thanks to you
showing up and ruining my life. What Tep might have thought of me, or felt
about me, has no point in this conversation. Bringing it up is only to dump
salt in the wound, and I’ll not stand for it.”

“I was friends with Tep long before you started
fucking him,” he clipped rudely; the venom coming out of his mouth
unfortunately disastrous.

“I never fucked…,” she caught herself saying.

“Yeah, right…as if. You never fucked Tep? The guy has
a dick, Sara. Surely you’ve seen enough of it over the last six months. I know
they’re your thing. You’d said more than once you like `em large.”

Her glare turned polar. “Fine. You want the truth?”
She moved in her seat. “Fine, you arrogant, self-centered asshole! You’re definitely
about to get the truth out of me now. Ready for it?” She took a deep breath,
looking as though preparing her body for battle.

“Well it is about fucking time!” Casey construed, only
making the situation worse.

“I never slept with Tepper. I wanted too. Good God! I
truly wanted to sleep with a man worth his weight in gold, and could give me
everything I’d ever craved. But he was too laid back in what he wanted of me,
for far too long… and it never happened. Same as it never happened with you.”

As he could feel his tan pale beneath his skin, she
added more to make it hurt.

“This was the first time I’d even been at his place.
We ate burgers, had a little wine. A couple of margaritas were drank poolside.
In addition, I probably would have slept with him had he not completely
forgotten about poker night. Oh, and I had my period last week. So I should be
rather good for any viewing pleasure…if you wanted to ask me that, as well.”

The last part of her itinerary said to make him
squirm.

It failed.

Casey smiled at her angry profile instead. “I was
going to ask you that question later on, but I’m glad you told me right away.
Saves me time.”

His attention turned to the direction of the off ramp;
Casey drove down it and stopped at the bottom. He turned right, passing through
a marked yield. He had a destination in mind all of a sudden. One, she would
likely skin him alive over. He was going to take her back to his place, to
where all the trouble began. Moreover, he was going to force the truth out of her,
even if it killed him.

 She must have known where they were traveling to
because she tensed in her seat. “You really think what you’re doing is such a
good idea?” she asked, by slow exhale to confirm it.

His eyes turned briefly to hers. “Do you?”

Sara pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Do I even have a choice anymore?”

Casey’s head shook. “No. Not really.”

“Didn’t think so,” she muttered.

Twenty miles past the city limits, he drove the car up
his long drive, then directly into the underground garage, shut down the engine
as the garage door closed them in, and climbed out of the vehicle.

Sara would not move out of her seat. He had to walk
around the car, pull open the door, and physically remove her from the vehicle
by using a strong grip on her elbow; which gained him another glacial glare. At
this rate, she would run out of glares before he was completely done with her.
Good thing too since he was getting damn sick of seeing them.

Out of stupidity and pure foolishness, Casey
maneuvered her into his arms, bent her frame backwards onto his car, and put
his mouth to hers. She deserved more out of him, but for now, all he could put
thought too was kissing her succulently soft lips until the massive need was
curbed inside his body.

Unfortunately, any curbing went swiftly to the
wayside.

Casey literally devoured her, releasing the grasp to
her elbow to slide his fingers into her hair, pulling her head closer to his—as
close as anyone could possibly get to another person, without physical melt.

She tasted wonderful—so ripe, so ready—as he knew she
would.

Satisfied from the first kiss, he eased back, and Sara
slapped him as hard as she could across the face.

Casey felt pain before, but this was done as though
she wanted to knock his teeth out. His hand moved to the stinging marks made.

“What the fuck!” he ripped from the back of his
throat.

Sara’s tears started to fall. One by one, they slid
down her pale cheeks.

He took a step back from the emotional outburst as if
slapped again. Regret hit him hard. A half-second, a foolish step forward, and
he forced her body into the comfort of his strong embrace.

He could smell lavender in her hair, as he put his
chin to the top of her head and she in turn placed her cheek to his heart. He
could feel her unsteady heartbeat battling against her breastbone. His own
matched in unchecked staccato.

The moment her ear set to the beat of his heart her
body trembled almost violently.

Sara’s sudden tears took over all else and racked her
slight frame within his arms.

Casey let her cry. He knew she’d been holding back the
emotional outpouring for the better part of the last half hour, if not more. He
let her fall apart while in his arms. He let her cleanse her conscience, while
in his arms. He let her hate him, then reconcile with that hate…while in his
arms. When he felt her stiffen, he knew she was done with the lost grasp on her
emotions.

He tilted Sara’s head up to his face by merely his
thumb set to her chin. He wasn’t going to kiss her. He was going to let her
settle her conscience first.

This had been the plan. Then wide blue eyes stared up
at him. The word, “Why?” slipped from her swollen mouth, and he did not have
any answer to
why?

All he knew was he had to kiss her again, to where
nothing would have prevented him until the act done. His mouth lowered, and the
pressure built inside him became unbearable.

His mouth did not punish, as before. It caressed. It
teased. It tormented the both. Foolish need drove him into more than foolish
actions. His palm set to her waist, slipped up her side and cupped the heavy
weight of her breast.

Casey’s conscience screamed her sleeping with Tepper
was not any of his damn business, and the only reason he’d even said anything
about it was because
they
hadn’t slept together. His fucked up conscience
wanted to know if it had been jilted over Tepper—the King of all the playboys.
If so, that conscience would have made his actions quite different, beyond soft
and gentle. Those actions would have been punishing, brutal, with damaging
consequences.

Tepper and Casey made a pact years ago. They would not
accept each other’s castoffs—no matter what the incentive was made on the
woman’s part. If she’d slept with Tepper, at any time, she would be another
man’s castoff, and that would’ve truly complicated his life beyond repair.

Six long months the thought of having lost this woman
permanently ate at his soul. Thank God she’d said physical coupling hadn’t
occurred. He didn’t know what he would’ve done to her had she told him she’d
made love to Le D`oun.

But with Sara, it would not have been love. She
fornicated, incapable of loving anyone.

Now she was within his grasp, in his arms, and only
his mouth kissing hers’, only his hands moved through her hair, only his tongue
driving home the need and want of her body by tender caress.

Only she had ever cried in his embrace; no other woman
allowed falling apart when with him.

Casey wasn’t cold. He was merely defensive by nature.

Sara Rogan, Mecenna Jones, Debra Batton… They were one
and the same. Yet the woman in Casey’s arms had made him feel alive and
helpless, all at once. His defenses were being taken down, one by one. She was
destroying a man’s lifework at staying free of attachment.

Now, he had to figure out the best way to keep her in
his arms. The last time she’d been there, she slipped from grasp and
disappeared off the face of the planet. He couldn’t chance the possibility
again. It hurt too damn much the last time.

Unlivable, if it happened twice.

Chapter Ten

S
ara wanted
nothing more than to remain in the comfort of Casey’s arms, have his mouth
kissing her, and his heat against her body, but she was hurt and angry, and to
stay there would have been far worse on her psyche than if he’d punched her in
the face with his fist.

She was confused by what Tepper just threw away. She
was pissed as hell by what Casey had thrown away six months ago.

The memory of Boyd McCarlye was a brittle pain, dug
far into her soul, yet his memory was fading into the distant past over the
years. At times, it was hard to recall what Boyd even looked like or smelt
like, unless she tried very hard.

Casey Griffen was, unfortunately, unforgettable. His
hand was caressing her hair. His heat was mingling with hers. All she would
have to do would be to open her heart, allow him whatever he wanted of her, and
stand aside when the volcano erupted.

Yet, what Sara wanted most in life was not to tell
Casey the truth.

Sara’s truth hurt too damn much.

Sara Rogan could not love, because she’d never been
loved. She didn’t know how to love, or how to go about learning the tricks of
the trade. She could sell her soul, offer her body to the highest bidder, but
she could not love another person as she should.

Casey wanted her body. Of course he did. They all did.
She did have, after all, all the right parts in all the right places and was
continually complimented on those parts as if she’d special ordered them
through catalog.

Sara wanted to give her love to Casey, but then she
would be back to the very beginning with this man, and would only be hurt
again. Perhaps if she wasn’t so needy, she could get over wanting sex with him,
so badly it made the teeth ache. Perhaps if he were not so open to her
neediness, she wouldn’t be so angry with him.

Strong arms kept her body still. A strong heartbeat
proved this as real. The man who held her, without conviction, proved himself
as caring.
Shit!
That’s as real as it gets.

Sara did not want any of this to be real. She wanted
her time to be little more than a fantasy; make-believe inside the bad. In
Make
Believe Land,
no one ever got hurt. Villains always died. Heroes always
saved the heroines. Damsels in distress were always the ones saved, others cast
away. Roses were the color red, skies multi-dimensional blues, and dark shadows
hid any secrets and lies.

And if anyone truly fit the profile of damsel in
distress it was Sara. Unfortunately, her skies were never blue, nor her roses
red. There were storm clouds and ripped petals in Sara’s world, and shadows too
dark even the devil dared not dwell.

She pulled from his arms. Her eyes darted up to his.
Deep blue orbs penetrated Sara’s exposed soul. She took a deep breath of his
scent: spice, musk, man, wealth beyond need. Her sigh to all of what he could
offer her came out heavy.

That briefest of second, the entire weight of the
world had released from Sara’s shoulders in only a single taken breath.

Casey had sighed too. His mouth found hers again. This
time, he wound his arms around her lower back and pulled her as close as was
possible.

Sara felt the huge bulge pressing through tight jeans,
urging her outer core to catch up to her inner. She felt the tremors in his
toned muscles, as he held back from violent want over regrettable desire. She
sensed the readiness in the man, as if she’d asked him to make love to her
inside the garage. But it wouldn’t be love, now would it? No. This would only
be sex—an act of man and woman, made into one.

Sara wasn’t ready for that, and the reason for any
non-readiness stared her in the face. It wouldn’t be
just sex
with
Casey. It would be something far more complicated.

Life and its damn complications—just once, she wanted
the world to be uncomplicated, easy, and unpredictable.

Instead, she melted into another kiss, another caress,
another pairing of matched heartbeats. Her need became near violent, compared
to his. The furnace in her core stoked by corded wood turned to unbearable.

Casey wanted her body, and in the want department, she
was equally ready for him. The flip of the coin was she knew he did not want
her heart.

As her mouth slipped from his, and her gaze met his
eyes, she knew this… more than anything she’d ever known in life.

Casey did not want her heart.

He pitied her, he wanted his answers, but that was
all. A woman’s heart was something to break by a man—and he figured her to have
no heart.

His arms slipped away, leaving her cold and
vulnerable. To try to erase such a terrible vulnerability, Sara used humor as
her vice.

“We doing this in the garage, or on a soft bed?” She
gave him a smile to cover up her trepidations. Perhaps hide her many failures
of past, present, and immediate future. She knew she had to tell him the truth
and she wasn’t ready to do it.

“We are going to talk first,” he said. His hand
slipped into hers, as his strong fingers sent shockwaves of heat straight to
her core.

Damnit!
Every
time this man touched her, she literally burst into flames.

That should not happen!

Yet it did.

And it had to stop.

Sara tried to pull her hand out of his. This caused
Casey to tighten his grip. He gathered his thoughts together and moved them out
of the garage. Once inside the mansion, he let go of her fingers and motioned
for Sara to take a seat on his couch.

She went there by heavy, dragged footsteps; sat down,
melting into the cushions, but she could not feel comfortable under so much
scrutiny.

She watched Casey pace back and forth in front of her
view. His face shadowed by the wisp of light shining through the open windows
behind his back made him look dangerous. The pacing stopped. He turned to
stare, creating a lump in her throat.

She couldn’t see his eyes, but she knew they were
pinned to hers’ as if stuck there by glue. Sara lowered her gaze to the plush
carpeting. She could not…would not…look at his face.

 Unlike Boyd, Casey had a face she may never forget—even
beyond death.

He took a step forward, knelt down in front of her,
and placed his hands onto her knees. This action physically locked her to the
couch. A deep, penetrating stare trapped hers milliseconds later.

“Why do you do this to me?” he rasped out.

Sara’s eyes widened.

“I can’t even look at you without wanting you.” He
looked near reluctant to speak such a thing.

Sara’s eyes widened more, if even possible.

“Damnit, Witch!
How
do you do this to me? I
should hate you. I should hate what you did to me, but I can’t. Why is this?”

He was asking himself these questions, not her.

Sara had no easy answers for any of them even if meant
for response.

His fingers dug into her knees. The pressure became
painful. “Fucking Hell, Mecenna! I want you so badly, I can’t stop this want no
matter what I do.”

Sara’s brain screamed out
‘Try’
but her mouth
dared itself to remain shut. Instead, she whispered her name. “Sara.”

Casey blinked. “What?”

“My name…is Sara.”

He stood, shoving his hands into the front pockets of
his jeans. Fury was now in his gaze. Fury he could not hide by dark shadows and
hurtful words.

“Dammit! I know who the hell you are. But to me you’re
Mecenna!” His bark was as bad as his bite, if not more so. It caused a reactive
flinch of the body and both felt that flinch as if cut by knife.

Stinging heat and blinding pain to the inner soul,
Sara stood. She balled her fists alongside her hips. “I can’t be the woman you
want me to be. I can’t be Mecenna any longer.”

“You never were Mecenna!” he yelled. “Were you?”

Sara flinched again from the violence in his words,
but held her ground. “I know. I never was. But…”

She never got the chance to complete the rest of her
sentence. Casey cut her off.

“Fucking Hell! You’re a witch in disguise! You play
your little games, break hearts, but you’d been Mecenna to me!”

“Then who the bloody hell am I now? Another finger
fuck—another whore for you to play with, at least until you felt the need to
toss me away for one far better? Another wannabe stripper with big enough boobs
to satiate a man’s desire, but lacking the brains to compensate for the wrong
color of hair? That isn’t me.” She uncurled one fist and tapped her chest. “It
was never me.”

The tears came to her eyes, threatened to spill, but
Sara held them back by spite and fury combined.

“Then who are you?” he questioned softer. No longer
were the veins in his temples sticking out to warn her of his thoughts. “Who
are you…
Sara
?” he asked again.

Sara turned her head to the side. She wasn’t so sure
anymore. Perhaps she’d never been certain; she’d gotten lost amongst all the
lies.

She was the woman raised by a violent stepfather and a
bi-polar mother, both caring little for her well-being. She was the little girl
they locked into closets when she’d been bad, until so scared of the dark she
would wet herself. She was the teenager who acted out the aggressions of home
life by using sex as her tool throughout at least fifty guys before the old age
of nineteen. She was the woman who’d fallen in love with only one man, and
never really knowing
how
to love.

She was every one of all she’d ever been. Sara.
Mecenna. Debra. They were all her. They could not be separated from her. Each
of those women was a part of her body; each controlled her thoughts, her
actions, and her misdeeds.

Sara’s mother had been bi-polar, yet Sara Rogan had
been diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder at the age of twelve.
DID
.
Most, without medical degree, called it having multiple personalities. Sara
called it living out her life while stuck in Hell.

Only one man in all those memories, actions, misdeeds
and thoughts had ever achieved success at pulling her into one single person.
Her sight rose to this one man.

For the life of her, for one brief instant, Sara did
not want Casey to let this completed being go. She wanted him to hold onto
her—as Sara
.
It finally felt good to be only one person.

He took a step forward, checked his actions, ruled
against them, taking another step toward her.

Sara moved forward, as well. She went directly into
his arms. The fury, the anger, the hatred, it all dissipated in a mere
heartbeat. What she was left with was Casey. And it was enough—for now.

“You were never anyone but Sara to me.” His tongue slid
down the length of her neck, trailing fire to the side of her face.

Casey’s mouth then found hers and it locked on.