“Chase—put me down!” she squealed, breathless, her heart slamming against her ribs.
“You had your chance, Monroe,” he growled, setting her down on the cold marble countertop, his body trapping her in place, caging her in.
Her pulse hammered as he leaned in, his mouth a breath away from hers, his hands trailing up her bare thighs, sliding under his shirt, gripping her hips like he owned them.
His voice was low, deep, a threat wrapped in a promise.
“Good morning, Darlin'.”
Savannah’s breath hitched, her fingers curling into the hard muscles of his biceps.
Fuck.
Everything about him was too much, yet never enough.
“Morning,” she whispered back, tilting her chin, brushing her lips against his—just enough to tease.
Chase’s hands tightened, his fingers digging into her skin, his body tensing, his control hanging by a thread.
"Chase," she whispered, her fingers trailing over the ridges of his abs, the sharp cut of his obliques disappearing beneath the band of his shorts.
He groaned, the sound low and wrecked, and fuck, she loved it.
She licked her lips, watching as his gaze dropped to her mouth, his control hanging by a damn thread.
"You keep looking at me like that," he muttered, voice thick, gravelly, his fingers flexing against her thighs, "and I won't be responsible for what happens next."
Savannah smirked, loving the tension, loving how close she could push him to losing it completely.
She dragged her fingers lower, tracing the sharp V of his hips, feeling his muscles jump beneath her touch.
"Maybe that's what I want," she murmured, her breath fanning over his lips.
Chase snapped.
His hands slid up, gripping her waist, pulling her flush against him, his body slotting between her legs, the heat of him pressing into her exactly where she needed it most.
She gasped, her hands fisting into his hair, holding on as his mouth crashed into hers, all heat and reckless, raw need.
The kiss was a promise, a threat, a fucking warning all at once.
Savannah whimpered as he took control, as his tongue slid against hers, as his teeth nipped at her bottom lip before soothing the bite with a slow, filthy kiss.
His hands were everywhere, mapping her, learning her, owning her.
She arched into him, her body grinding against his, and Chase let out a deep, gravelly sound, his grip tightening.
"Fucking hell, Savannah," he rasped, his forehead dropping to hers, his breathing uneven, raspy.
Her nails scraped down his back, her own breath coming in sharp little gasps,her body thrumming with need.
But Chase suddenly froze, his hands stilling against her skin.
She blinked, heart pounding, stomach flipping when he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze.
There was something different in his eyes.
Something fierce. Something real.
