Larke moved to the bed, patted a spot beside her and said, “Turn over.” Chase did just that, lying on his stomach. Craning his head, he saw her kneeling at his side. He meant to ask what she had in mind but there was no need. With a tiny grin on her face, Larke steepled her fingers and flexed her hands. He stifled a groan as she began caressing then massaging his shoulder blades. Smooth fingertips dug into his back, easing the coiled tension in his muscles.
No one had ever given him a massage. Then again, he couldn’t imagine allowing any of the women he’d fucked to get that close to him. So much touching for no good reason. With Larke…he craved her touch like nothing else. It didn’t have to be sexual, although if he was being honest, her fingers delving into his hard flesh, kneading and massaging; felt like a close second to the pleasure of kissing her. Close, because the only thing that could ever top having his lips on hers was lowering himself between her thighs and plunging all the way to the hilt.
“Better?” She was leaning over and smiling. Thin braids fell against the side of her face.
Chase rolled over on the bed and grazed her cheek with the back of his hand. His heart feltas if it was wedged somewhere between his chest and the top of his throat.
Fuck it to hell! He was falling for Larke. She had blindsided him, throwing a curve in the path he was on. He had no idea if she realized the effect she was having on him, lying there with her face propped against her palm, gazing at him as if he was someone special.
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” Chase told her, unable to hold back.
“Is that good or bad?”
“Good. And bad. Real bad actually.”
The spark of light inside her eyes faded. All traces of happiness melted from her face. “Oh.” She shifted away from him, intent on putting distance between them. Chase wouldn’t allow it. He closed his arm around her waist, stilling her movement. “Stay beside me. All I’m trying to tell you is, you’re different. I don’t mean because you’re black. Just that you’re the nicest person I know. You had so many reasons to hate and push me away, but you haven’t. You’re also so damn pretty it makes my head hurts. I like being around you, Larke and when I’m not around you, I’m thinking about you all the time.”
She stared at him in confusion. “What’s the bad part?”
“Everything I said. I wasn’t raised for anything like this to happen. You and me—we shouldn’t even be talking. Much less me lying on your bed hoping I can kiss you again. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”
“I get it,” she said quietly. “You’ve changed your mind about us being together.”
Was she serious? Yes, common sense was yelling at him to change his mind, but any chance of that happening was impossible now. Larke had to know that. Why else would he have rushed over here to see her? He was in neck deep, with wanting her. Everything about her was drawing him in.
She put her lips on my tattoos.
His skin shivered. Chase shook his head quickly, issuing a firm, “No. I didn’t change my mind. I want you. That’s not gonna stop anytime soon.” Frustrated, he let out a loud sigh. How could he fully explain it without frightening her again?
The two of them in a relationship would piss off a lot of people. The hatred ran deep. He’d seen it, was actively living and participating in it. Race traitors were the worst of the worst. He wasn’t allowed to join the ranks of those who’d given up or abandoned the movement to make America a haven for white people—like it used to be.
Chase was supposed to lead, not set them behind. If anyone found about him and Larke, he knew he’dbe ‘forgiven’. They’d view it as a mistake. Explain the relationship away as a moment of weakness brought on by liberal brainwashing or a that he was simply a loyal nationalist who became overcome by grotesque curiosity for the unknown. He knew the last one would be the easiest for everyone to accept.
The real problem, however, was Larke. She’d be seen as the filthy ni–. He shut his eyes. Thinking that word was difficult and painful now that he understood how much it bothered her. They’d see her as the disgusting minority who’d figured out a way to tempt one of their own. And the real fanatics–the same ones terrified of leaving Lee’s Fortress–might even attempt to harm her.
Chase stared at Larke. She appeared hesitant. He leaned over and brushed his lips against hers. “I’m not going anywhere. I only wanted you to understand that being with you isn’t something I’m taking lightly.”
He really wasn’t. Larke was the best thing to happen to him. Right now, she was the only person he considered a friend. The only one he trusted. She was his girl. His alone. He just needed to make sure she knew it. And soon. The rest he’d figure out later.
Chase kissed her hand, reassuring her again. “Forget what I said, okay? None of that crap matters because I’m not giving you up.”
“But––”
He shook his head. “We’re good, angel. Trust me, we’re good.”
Larke sighed, then rose from the bed. “All right. I’m trusting you, Chase.” She moved across the room and opened up a drawer. “All I need now is for you to turn your back while I change.”
He arched a brow. “How’s that fair if you get to see me without a shirt but I don’t get to see you?”
She laughed while pulling out a spaghetti strap shirt and shorts. “I never said I was against double standards. I’m messing with you, though. I’ll change inside the bathroom. Need to brush my teeth before bed like a good girl. You can help yourself to a toothbrush in the mirror cabinet. Any other man stuff you need, you’re on your own.” She tossed him a grin over her shoulder before closing the door behind her.
Minutes later when she came out of the bathroom, her braids had been done into two long twists that sort of resembled a French braid, hanging down the top of her back. His blood roared at the sight of her large breasts straining against the thin undershirt. His eyes lowered to the matching shorts that clung to her firm, plump ass. He ran a hand alongside his jaw and drew in a deep breath.Driving me insane.
Tearing his gaze from her and needing to calm himself, Chase entered the bathroom. After he returned to the bedroom, he was relieved to see Larke had changed her mind about sleeping in the living room. She was lying in bed, wrapped up in her floral comforter. On ‘his’ side of the bed, she’d left a blue and white checkered blanket. Same bed, separate sheets. Small favors, right? At least he wouldn’t have to spend the night being tortured by having her body pressed against his, Chase thought while removing his pants and slipping into the bed beside her. She turned to him as the bed dipped beneath his frame and whispered, “I’m happy you stayed.”
He stroked her face. “Did you ask me to stay because of what I told you happened to my father when we were kids?”
“That was my reason at first. I really was worried about you being tired. But then I thought about it and realized I really wanted you to stay here with me. Just because.”
