“I just have some work to catch up on, and I’ll be through.”
“Okay... goodnight,” I say, though it feels like a dismissal.
I lie in bed for what seems like forever, staring at the ceiling, waiting, listening, hoping.
But eventually, sleep wins.
And somehow, I already knew he wasn’t coming.
Chapter twenty-six
Violet
I sense the heat of his body before I open my eyes. Waking up next to him never gets old—his beautiful bronze form wrapped around mine like a shield. I trace the dragonfly tattoo climbing his spine, wings splayed across his broad shoulder blades.
Sleeping is the most vulnerable you’ll ever see Chase. The thick black lashes, wasted on a man, lie still against the sharp cut of his cheekbones. Seeing him like this feels like a gift, one that only I get to witness. I slip from beneath the sheets and tiptoe to the bathroom. It was just after three when he finally came to bed. I’d pretended to be asleep, but the moment he pulled me into his arms, the chaos in my chest quieted.
As I brush my teeth, I study my reflection in the mirror, giving myself a mental pep-talk. No more doubting what’s real. No more letting ghosts from my father’s betrayal shape the way I love. It makes me happy being with Chase. It would hurt too much to walk away.
If waking up next to Chase is my favorite thing, his shower comes a close second. The water beats down like tropical rain, warm and hypnotic. Humming, I lather his rich body wash until I smell just like him.
A gasp breaks from my throat when strong hands grip my waist.
“Chase,” I breathe, startled—but then his mouth is on mine, hungry and demanding. His touch roams every inch of me like he’s imprinting the memory of me onto his skin. He kisses down my neck and wraps his lips around my nipple, making my face arch into the spray of water. And then he’s lifting me, pressing me back against the tiles, guiding my leg around his waist. One hard thrust, and I’m full—every thought scattering like ashes.
I’ve no idea why he’s woken up with the devil in his bones, but I’m past caring as my back slaps against the wet tiles. This isn’t our usual lazy morning sex. It’s almost fevered. When he thrusts into me, it’s rough, desperate—like he’s chasing something he can’t catch. His mouth finds mine again, muffling the moans he draws from me with every pump. His rhythm is wild, punishing, but there’s tenderness in his eyes as they lock on mine. “My beautiful Violet,” he whispers like a mantra between kisses, like he needs me to hear it. Believe it. “I need you to come for me.”
And when I do, it’s all-consuming, a jolt that crashes through me without warning, ripping the breath from my lungs as his name breaks from my lips.
He’s right behind me; a low groan echoes through his chest as he drives deep and holds, like letting go would break him.
But even as we come undone, something seems off. As his eyes burn into mine, there’s a pain in the heat that I’ve never seen before. We stand there in the steam, flushed and breathless. His hands cradle my face, brushing wet strands of hair from my cheeks with a tenderness that undoes me.
He presses a dizzying kiss on my lips like he’s pouring everything into it. “I love you, Violet Harper,” he murmurs into my mouth. “Never forget that.”
I stare at him, stunned.
He loves me?
Warmth curls through my veins like the sweetest chocolate, but before I even process my thoughts, he’s gone, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. I turn off the water and step out, still dripping, confused, as he moves through the motions with the same cold detachment I’ve faced all week.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, sliding my arms around his waist, my hands caressing his solid abs.
His eyes meet mine in the mirror. “Yes, baby, just work stuff.” He disentangles himself from my arms, takes off his towel, and walks casually back through to the bedroom to get dressed as if he didn’t just tell me he loved me. I mean, it’s not like I was expecting Cupid to float down on a cloud with an orchestra of violinists, but now I’m second-guessing whether I imagined the whole thing.
I dry off, wrapping myself in a robe and brushing through my wet hair. He appears in the bathroom doorway, looking divine in a charcoal suit. He strides toward me and pulls me in for a tender kiss. “I have an early meeting, so I have to go now, but I’ve arranged another car for you.”
“Okay, thank you.” My eyes search his face, looking for something. I’m not sure what. Maybe a sign that this isn’t some fever dream.
“Let’s go out for dinner tonight?” He says.
“Yeah, sure.”
“And this weekend...” He hesitates for the briefest moment, then runs a hand through his hair like the words cost him something. “I’ll take you away.”
I don’t have a chance to reply before his cell rings and he’s gone.
When I step into my office, I know something’s wrong.
