"You want to tell me to stop," he murmured, voice rough, thick with restraint. "But you won’t."
She swallowed hard. "You don’t know that."
His smirk was slow, devastating. "I know you, Savannah. I know every tell you have. And right now? Your pulse is racing, your breath is coming too fast, and you’re gripping that railing like it’s the only thing keeping you from grabbing me."
Her grip tightened on the wood, nails digging into the worn grain. She hated that he was right. Hated that he could read her so easily, like he always had.
Chase’s breath fanned against her cheek as he leaned in just enough to make her dizzy. "Tell me to stop, and I swear to God, I’ll walk away. But if you don’t…"
She exhaled shakily, closing her eyes for half a second. She needed to end this. Needed to put space between them before she did something reckless.
But she didn’t step back.
She didn’t say a damn thing.
Chase let out a quiet chuckle, the sound vibrating through her, dark and knowing. "That’s what I thought."
Her lashes fluttered, her breath coming sharp as he pulled back—just enough to keep her wanting, just enough to make her crave the thing she refused to ask for.
His voice was low, nearly a whisper. "I don’t want this to be another what-if."
Her pulse pounded. "What are you saying?"
His lips curled, just enough to make her stomach flip. "I’m saying, Savannah Monroe, I’m not gonna let you walk away without seeing where this could go. Not this time."
Her breath hitched. He was too fucking close. But for the first time in years, she didn’t want to run.
Savannah licked her lips. "And if it goes nowhere?"
Chase smirked, voice rough. "Then at least we’ll finally fucking know."
She hesitated—just for a second.
Then she nodded.
13
This Time, Maybe
Thenextmorning,Savannahlay in bed, staring at the ceiling, last night’s conversation replaying in her head like a song she couldn’t turn off. Every word, every glance, every fucking breath he had taken felt like it had been burned into her memory.
Chase Montgomery.
She sighed, running a hand over her face. It was maddening, the way he had settled so easily back into her world, into her thoughts, like he had never really left. Her body still hummed from being near him, from the way his presence had wrapped around her like a slow, intoxicating fog. It wasn’t just that he was familiar—it was that he still felt like something she had never been able to replace.
She hadn’t expected him. Hadn’t expected the way he still looked at her, like she was the only thing in the room that mattered. Hadn’t expected the way her body had betrayed her the second he stepped closer, how the heat of him had wrapped around her like a drug she hadn’t realized she still craved.
God, he smelled good.
That mix of fresh cedar and something deeper, darker—like worn leather and the faintest hint of smoke. The kind of scent that made her want to bury her face in his shirt and breathe him in until she was dizzy. She had stood too close, let the scent of him fill her lungs, let herself sink into it for just a moment too long. Her fingers still itched to grab the front of his shirt, to see if he felt as solid and real as he looked.
And his voice.
Low. Rough. Like he had been holding back for too long, and every word that left his lips was a battle between control and something reckless. She could still hear it, the way it had wrapped around her, teasing and coaxing, sending shivers down her spine.
"Tell me something—if I had kissed you back then, would you have let me?"
Savannah groaned, rolling onto her stomach and shoving her face into the pillow, heat spreading through her chest, pooling lower. He had no fucking right sounding like that, looking at her like that, making her feel like she was about to combust.
