“Because you just started something you won’t be able to finish.”
Her stomach flipped, anticipation curling low in her gut.
But she wasn’t about to let him see that.
She tilted her chin up, keeping her smirk firmly in place. “We’ll see about that.”
Chase chuckled, dark and dangerous. “Oh, sweetheart. You have no fucking idea what you’ve done.”
And just like that?
The game was officially on.
The First Move
Savannah pushed back in her chair, stretching out like she wasn’t a second away from losing herself, like she wasn’t soaked just from the way he looked at her.
She yawned, feigning innocence as she stood, making a show of adjusting his Henley, letting it slide just a little more off her shoulder, exposing just enough skin.
Chase’s gaze dragged down her body, his expression shifting to something dark, wicked, unreadable.
She padded toward the sink, her bare feet silent on the hardwood, and reached for a glass, filling it with water.
And then?
She drank.
Slowly.
She let her throat move, let the cold water slip past her lips, her eyes flicking to Chase’s just in time to catch the way his fingers flexed at his sides.
Good.
She set the glass down, brushed past him, letting her fingers graze over his stomach, feeling the tight, hard muscles that are normally hidden beneath a shirt.
She felt his sharp inhale, heard the way his breathing caught, but she didn’t stop.
Didn’t give him the satisfaction of a second glance.
She headed toward the stairs, tossing over her shoulder, “I’m gonna shower.”
Silence.
Thick. Heavy. Stifling.
Then—
Chase’s voice, low and fucking lethal:
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Savannah paused at the bottom of the stairs, looking back at him. “Why not?”
His jaw clenched, his body so fucking tense, like he was seconds away from pouncing.
She watched the way his fingers drummed against the countertop, how his nostrils flared just slightly.
He was right on the edge.
