Chase
“Can you accompany me on every business trip?” I smile into her mouth, my tongue sweeping against hers until I hear those breathy moans that drive me crazy. My hungry lips claim hers again with an insatiable desire. She’s quickly becoming my new obsession,
“Hey,” she says, breaking the kiss, grinning at me with those dimples that utterly ruin me. “I’ve got better things to do with my time than be your personal sex slave.”
“Are you sure? I’ll make it worth your while.” She shrieks when I slap her ass playfully, pulling her closer still. Her skin is silky smooth as I run my fingertips up her spine and over every sweet curve, threading them in the hair at the nape. My lips find hers again, planting soft, lingering kisses that squeeze my chest so tight I never want to let go.
I’ve never felt more content as we lay in silence, tasting each other, wrapped in each other’s arms, listening to the wind rattling the wooden window frames. If I had it my way, wewouldn’t leave this bed for the foreseeable future. But the whole point of this damn retreat is wooing Monarch, so if I don’t get my sorry ass out of bed and to dinner, more than a few eyebrows will rise.
“Fuck, Violet,” I exhale, caressing her cheek as she stares up at me. “I need to get to dinner. Richard Morgan is probably five whiskeys in, and Elliot will be all over him like a cheap suit.” I groan as I catch sight of my hard cock, stubbornly refusing to go down. He can’t believe his luck. He’s finally got Violet all to himself, and I’m dragging him away. Violet follows my gaze, her eyes widening, her mouth twitching with a barely suppressed smile.
“I didn’t realize you were so fond of Richard,” she quips, her hand moving down to caress it slowly.
“Fuck,” I groan, batting her hand away with a grin. “That’s definitely not going to help.”
“Well, I suppose I should get ready too,” she sighs, stretching languidly. “Plus, I’m starving. I guess being hunted down in a forest by a sex-crazed maniac will do that to a girl.”
Her lips curve into a wide, teasing smile as she sits up, brushing the softest kiss over mine—a tender, fleeting touch that ripples through me like a burst of sunlight. Her hair tumbles down her back like velvet as she moves to the edge of the bed, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to pull her back and fuck her until sunrise.
It feels natural to be in her presence as she brushes her hair while I get dressed. In my private life, I prefer solitude. But with Violet, I’m already brainstorming a million ways to make her stay.
Once we’re ready, I open the door and hand her the keys. She hesitates in the doorway, her fingers gripping the frame, unease tightening her expression.
“You go first,” she murmurs, glancing down the dark path. “People shouldn’t see us together.”
I step closer, reaching for her hand, but she keeps it firmly planted on the wood. “We work together. What’s the big deal?”
She hesitates, and my grin widens. “What if I carry you in like this?” Before she can protest, I swoop her up by the waist and throw her over my shoulder.
“Are you crazy? Put me down, Chase!” She wriggles frantically, but laughter cuts through her voice.
Taking pity, I let her slide down my body, my hands lingering on her hips. “Violet,” I murmur, tipping her chin up so she meets my eyes. “No one will hurt you if you’re with me. And it’s normal for us to be seen together—we are working on the same project.”
She shakes her head, her fingers tightening around the doorframe. “You don’t get it, Chase. It’s fine for you, but I’m the one people will talk about.”
I press a slow, lingering kiss to her lips before pulling back. “Okay, baby, I’ll see you inside.”
Reluctantly, I turn away, resisting the urge to look back.
Dinner is the last place I want to be.
If it were up to me, I’d still be in Violet’s lodge, holding her in my arms. But Charles Ravenscroft, CEO of Monarch, isn’t the kind of man you skip dinner on. So here I am, sitting across from him and Richard Morgan, pushing down the urge to glance at Violet again.
The dining hall gleams with polished wood and soft candlelight, an attempt at rustic charm that doesn’t quite disguise the price tag. Crisp white linens cover the long tables, and the scent of grilled steak and rosemary drifts through the air. Conversations hum around us, executives talking strategy between bites of seared salmon and glasses of expensive wine.
Richard claps me on the back, his grin firmly back in place; now he’s out of the forest and a whiskey in hand. “It’s not every day I can say Chase Knight dragged me out of a tunnel.”
I take a sip of my drink, flashing him a wry smile. “That one was complimentary. Next time I’m sending an invoice.”
Charles laughs, cutting into his steak. “I was impressed, Knight. You don’t just talk a big game—you back it up. Not many executives throw themselves into the challenge like that.”
I give a slight nod. “I like to win.”
Charles wipes his mouth with his napkin before leaning back. “That kind of drive is exactly what we need for this partnership. I’ll be honest—I like what I’ve seen from Knightwell so far. But you know how it is. We don’t make decisions lightly.”
I meet his gaze. “Of course. What’s your timeline?”
“We’ll wrap up discussions next week,” Charles says. “Final decision by the end of the quarter.”
