Fuck. Chase gulped in some air, shoved a hand through his hair. His mind was a complete mess because he couldstilltaste her on his lips. All innocence and tender sweetness. Things he shouldn’t have. Had never wanted. His skin tingled where her fingertips had closed around him. His dick… He brought a fist to his mouth and sucked in a deep breath. Larke and her moaning had him stiff and hurting so damn much.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She traced her index finger across her lips. “I–I don’t know what to say. Chase, this wasn’t about sex. I only brought you here to show you the room. Nothing more. I swear. I’m really sorry. After everything I said, I’d hate for you to think I’m playing with you. I’d never do that.”
Larke looked as affected as he felt. Her braids were disheveled and her lips slightly swollen. She was even sweeping her pink tongue over her lips. Did she realize what she was doing? He gulped in another breath. “You liked it?”
She stared at him wide-eyed. He could see the pulse in her neck fluttering like crazy as she nodded. Her lips eased into a delicate smile. “It was wonderful.” She narrowed her brows, “What about you? I mean. Are we okay? Did you like kissing me, or was it…” She bit her lip and averted her gaze, letting the rest of her question hang in the air.
Chase’s gut clenched. He was fully aware of what she was trying to ask without being able to finish the painful sentence. He managed a nod then dipped his head, capturing her lips between his own to show her the truth.
“Had to do it,” he murmured when the kiss ended. He tapped the corner of her lips with his thumb. “You’re addicting.”
“So are you.”
His entire body felt warm and alive as her words washed over him. In that moment, Chase knew it was too late for him to leave and too late to ever go anywhere but forward in this relationship.
Larke continued to hold him in her view, her gaze lowering to his chest, arms and toward his legs. Her brows wrinkled like they did earlier. “Do you––” She stopped, shook her head and allowed her hand to fall at her side. “Nevermind. I’ll grab some clothes and go out in the living room.”
Chase grabbed her hand, pulling her back. “Don’t do this, Larke. You wanted to ask me something. I know it had to be important to you. What was it? What do you wanna know?”
“I was curious about something but it doesn’t matter. I’m not sure it would make a difference anyway.”
“Tell me.”
She gave him a pained stare then rushed out, “Do you have the tattoos all over your body?”
Chase shook his head. Drawing in a breath, he peeled the shirt over his head, half afraid of her reaction, but understanding her concern. He needed to be upfront about everything, including the tattoos. “I don’t have anything on my legs. Only what you see here on my upper body.”
She nodded slowly. Her gaze traveled over his chest, stomach, and arms. Closing his eyes, Chase turned, knowing she needed to see it all. Shame dug into him as he pictured her reaction while reading the words splayed on his back. ‘Crazy White Boy’, a term identifying him as a white supremacist, along with the other nationalist symbols that had meaning to him. He prayed she didn’t recognize the majority of them or understood what they stood for.
Scrutiny completed, Larke turned to him and quietly said, “I thought maybe you had a swastika.”
He shook his head, glad he’d refused that tattoo while some his friends opted to have it inked onto their skin. “My grandfather always said the Nazi party ruined the image of white nationalism. Made people lose respect for our beliefs and cause.”
“Okay. But please tell me you agree what they did to the Jewish people was horrendous.”
Her eyes were imploring him again, testing out his humanity. “Larke…”
Sighing loudly, she tightened her jaw then returned her attention to the rest of his tattoos. “Idorecognize some of these symbols. Not all, but quite a few.” She pressed her fingertip to a spot on his shoulder. Chase felt her hand move, tracing the ones she claimed to recognize. He stood, silently letting her explore and examine all the wicked parts of him. The ones she can only see on the outside. Look for herself and decide if she can allow herself to belong and maybe one day open her body to a monster like himself.
“It hurts to see these things,” she said, not a hint of anger in her tone. “But I think… No. Iknowand believe this with all my heart, that you’re not a horrible person. I just need you to tell me that somewhere deep inside, you know there’s a lot of wrong in many of the things I’m seeing here.” She touched a spot above his chest. “Like this one.” Her fingertip grazed the Confederate flag standing high amid flames and ashes. “Put yourself in my shoes, Chase, then tell me if you understand.”
He did. Hell, he couldn’t get McNair’s fucking snort out of his head, laughing and talking about the woman in the beer commercial. Ever since that night, he’d had time to reflect on his thoughts or rather hislackof real thoughts on certain issues. It wasn’t that he actually believed black people should be slaves or should’ve been enslaved in the first place. No one should have the right to own another person. At least not in terms of property for forced labor.
Chase pinched the bridge of his nose, unaware that his head hung low until he felt Larke’s arm circling his neck in a delicate embrace.
He raised his head and recalled her previous question about the Jews. “No. I don’t agree with what happened.”
Her arms tightened around him. All he could feel next was her lips on his shoulder, warming his skin. A groan slipped from his mouth before he could silence it.
“Shh.” Her dark eyes peered up at him. Larke lowered her head again, sprinkling hot kisses along his chest and each and every one of the tattoos she despised. When her lips stroked the words on his arm, Chase jumped, losing his cool.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He rubbed the top of his head, back and forth. Crazed. Did Larke know what she was doing to him? His chest clenched and expanded. His lungs felt as if someone was squeezing the air from them. The back of his eyelids burned. Actually stung with tears. He never cried. Wouldn’t cry.
“It’s okay.” She soothed him by rubbing her cheek along his arm, her skin coming into contact with so much hate. “Honestly, Chase. It’s fine. We have each other now. We can deal with this together.”
He was powerless to her—a female half his size who had the kind of strength he could only dream of having or understanding.
