Page 23 of Beneath the Blue Moon

***Casey***

I lie on a sun lounge by the sheriff’s pool and stare up at

the starry sky. There’s a waxing gibbous, or three-quarter moon, which means

the full moon is near. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve had a thing

for the moon. My bedroom ceiling was decorated like a night sky; I had a moon-shaped

night-light, moon and stars sheets and pajamas, and anything else I could find.

I read everything I came across that had the word “moon” in it. Every full moon,

Daddy would take me out into the backyard and we would “moon watch” until I

fell asleep. I miss those days.

“Are you okay?” The sheriff cuts into my thoughts.

“I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“My dad… Something we used to do when I was little.”

“Oh.”

I guess he senses that I don’t want to talk about it because

he leaves me to my thoughts, periodically refilling my glass. Earlier, he held

my stare and told me he’s been waiting for the right woman. His eyes reiterated

what he told me at the bar. It’s obvious he thinks I’m her. He’ll see

soon enough that I’m not.

“Wanna go for a swim?” he asks. “The pool’s heated.”

I turn to him with a smile. “I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“I’m sure we can improvise.”

The smirk on his face pulls me out of my pensiveness.

“I’m sure we can,” I agree.

“I’ll get some towels.”

After he leaves, I remove my jewelry and sandals. He returns

with towels and a white T-shirt for me. Our eyes meet as I slowly push my

romper down over my breasts. He lowers his hungry gaze, following the garment

as it moves past my hips and down my legs. Standing before him in my bra and

boy shorts, I drop the romper on the lounge. I walk to the edge of the pool

then look back at him over my shoulder. When I step into the water, he drags

his shirt over his head. I dive in and re-surface at the far end, turning to

see he’s disappeared. Where the hell did he go? Something touches my toes,

and I scream in terror. Before I can escape, a dark head of hair surfaces

before me.

“You scared me!” I exclaim.

He laughs, a deep, throaty, beautiful sound, and runs his

fingers through his wet hair.

“I’m sorry.”

I slide my palms up his gorgeous, muscular chest. I’ve never

been a fan of chest hair, but his only adds to his appeal. It’s not too much

and not too little—just the right amount. My eyes travel up, and our gazes lock.

“I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me.”

“I guess so.”

He places his hands on my hips, leans in, and softly presses

his lips to mine. With a moan, I snake my arms around his neck. Crushing his body

to mine, he traps me between him and the edge of the pool. I lightly pull on

his bottom lip as I slide my hands down his chest and around his waist. Cradling

my face, he teases my mouth open with his tongue. I part my lips, sending mine

out to play with his. His potent scent travels up my nostrils and straight to

my brain. The kiss becomes demanding, overpowering, evoking a flutter in the

pit of my stomach and a twitch between my legs. I return his kiss eagerly,

aching to be closer to him.

The first time was no fluke. His kisses are the kind every

woman hopes to experience. Even when he’s gentle, they’re strong and powerful,

and make me feel like the most desired woman in the world. They are everything

I could ever want in a kiss, coming from a man who believes he’s everything I

want—no, need—in a man.

His hand slides down my neck and sternum, and he cups my

breast through my bra. I can already feel his erection against my thigh. Oh,

God. I hope he doesn’t stop this time.