Because Mallory’s words still wouldn’t leave her the hell alone.
"How many women have been in his bed?"
Savannah squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her palms against the cool tile.
She hated that the question had rooted itself in her brain. Hated that she cared.
But she did.
Because Chase Montgomery wasn’t a saint.
He was a man who could have anyone. A man women probably threw themselves at.
And yet…
He was waiting for her.
Why?
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Was she really different? Or just the latest challenge?
Savannah exhaled sharply, running her fingers through her hair, trying to force the thoughts away.
She wasn’t going to drive herself crazy.
Not tonight.
24
Holding Back
Bythetimeshecame downstairs, the air between them was already charged.
Chase had showered in the downstairs bath, fresh and clean, but there was nothing calm about the way he sat on the couch, watching her.
And fuck, he looked too good.
His damp hair curled slightly, the ends clinging to the skin at the nape of his neck, a few stray drops of water sliding down to disappear beneath the thin, white tank stretched across his broad chest. The dim lighting cast flickering shadows over the ridges of his sharp jaw, the dark scruff shadowing his face in a way that made her want to run her tongue over it. The deep ink of his tattoos contrasted against golden, tanned skin, every muscle thick, defined, flexing beneath her stare.
And those damn gray shorts.
Loose and low on his hips, just enough to be dangerous.
There was no mistaking the etched bulge of his cock beneath the fabric. A sign of what she could have.
And yet, he sat there like a man completely in control. As if his body wasn’t betraying him. As if his self-control wasn’t wearing dangerously thin.
Savannah had stolen one of his t-shirts from the laundry room before coming downstairs—soft, white, oversized, barely skimming the tops of her thighs. That was it. No leggings. No pajama shorts.
Just his shirt. And her.
The air thickened as his gaze flicked over her, slow and unhurried, drinking in bare legs, damp curls, the outline of her nipples beneath thin cotton.
"Feel better?" His voice was deep, husky, a slow drag of heat over her skin.
Savannah swallowed, feeling something tight coil in her belly. "Yeah." She said quickly.
