11
Larke chewedon and swallowed her statement from earlier. Chase was actually a wonderful cook, which was surprising for a man who appeared so out of place inside a kitchen. Even though the alarm went off once, she’d yet to see or taste a burnt morsel of the cardamom and maple flavored salmon.
The man seated across from her at the table was like an enigma wrapped in a puzzle then thrown into the middle of a maze. She was stuck right there inside with him. The two of them. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Larke watched as Chase stood and began clearing away the dishes, which she’d planned on doing. She pushed out of her chair, reached for a glass but couldn’t get her hand around it. He placed his hand atop hers, swiping the glass and thwarting her move.
“I’ll do it,” he said abruptly. “You can relax.”
She brushed his hand away. “I relaxed while you were cooking. Now you sit back while I clean up.” She grabbed the glass and jokingly said, “I need to burn off some calories from all the food, anyway.”
“No, you don’t. Now give it to me. I told you, I’m doing this.” His tone was gruffer than usual, confusing her.
She kept her hand around the glass, slowly shaking her head. “And I told you I’m helping. Like you helped me in my apartment.” She lowered her voice to offset the gruff tone he’d used with her. Larke disliked arguments. “That’s how these things usually work.”
Chase drew his head up, eyes flickering with ice. “I ain’t a fucking kid. I know what helping is. You don’t have to explain it to me.”
She flinched. Hurt by his reaction. She released the glass, folded her arms around her middle and took a step backward. “I can clearly see you’re not a child. That still doesn’t explain why you don’t want my help.” She stared at him and bit her inner cheek as a horrible thought struck her. Did Chase have some kind of hang up about black people touching his stuff? In a way that would make sense, but… No. She’d done more than touch his belongings. She’dusedthem. And there was also the kissing, her hands and lipstouchinghis hard body.
His low intake of breath told her he’d read the look on her face and knew what she was thinking, assuming. The glass in his hand hit the table without breaking. Shocked, Larke glanced upward to see him bearing down on her. “No,” grated, pointing a finger at her and shaking his head hard. “It isnothinglike what you’re thinking.”
“What I’m thinking?”
“Yes,” he shouted. “What you’re goddamn thinking.” His eyes narrowed to slits. “Larke, I see the look on your face. I know you’re wondering if this is some kind of weird shit from me because you’re…” He stopped in mid-sentence. Took another deep breath, stepped away then came right back until he was blocking her space. Her head bumped his chest.
“I don’t want your help. I don’t want you helping me because I don’t deserve it. Now do you get it?”
Her eyes widened. The anger in his voice, anger directed at himself instead of her, nearly ripped her heart in two. Larke opened her mouth to reassure him that everything he’d said wasn’t true, but couldn’t. He was gazing at her, his eyes hazy as he spoke. So low she could barely hear him. But hear him she did. Every single word that made her heartbeat thunder.
“I’m really sorry for screwing with your head. Making you afraid to go out and not enjoy life as you should have when you were a kid. I’m sorry that because of me you think you have to always be prepared for being left out in the cold. And I’m sorry for coming to you with my fucked up thoughts and beliefs. I’m trying, Larke. I’m really trying to fix them. Just hope you can keep being patient with me, like you’ve been so far.”
The pain reflected in his eyes tore into her. Her legs wobbled and her entire body felt shaky, witnessing the man she cared so much about consumed with regret and feelings laid bare. It was too much. Larke sank back onto the chair and covered her mouth with her hand, attempting to keep her tears at bay. It was useless. One droplet after the other dampened her cheek.
A harsh groan split from his throat. Chase knelt on the ground in front of her, sweeping his thumb against her cheek to wipe the tears. “Hey, come on. I didn’t say that to make you cry.”
She sniffled. “I know you didn’t.”
“I only wanted to show you how sorry I am. I didn’t know what else to do. That’s why I cooked. Thought you might find it special if I did the work instead of taking you out to eat somewhere.”
“It was very special.” She wrapped her arm around his neck, wetting his skin with leftover tears. “Thank you.”
He flashed her a lopsided grin, causing her pulse to race. “I also didn’t want you to lift a finger since this is all about me making it up to you.”
Her blood warmed and her lower belly cinched. Chase’s deep raspy tone was turning her insides to mush. His eyes gazing into hers as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on her, made her folds slicken with moisture. “Can I lift a finger to touch you?” she asked dazed with arousal.
Chase took her hand between his, stroking it against his lip. “That’s allowed. But only me. You can only touch me.”
Larke licked her lips, a heady mixture of fear and desire leading her thoughts. “How much touching are we talking about? The kind where we go off to separate rooms, or…” She never finished. Chase’s hand was now gliding upward, beneath her dress, laying waste to any thoughts inside her head that didn’t center on the decadent feel of his rough fingers on her skin.
Her heartbeat thumped against her chest, beating an arcane rhythm. Larke thanked God a thousand times over, that she was already seated, because surely her legs would’ve buckled and folded by now. Her breath hitched in the middle of her throat as his hand grazed higher, slipping inside her panties. His fierce gaze held her pinned.
The world around her seemed to stop until the moment she held her breath for finally happened. Chase’s fingers on her pussy. Larke trembled and sucked in a deep breath. Heat flared to life, blazing inside her lower belly.
He caressed two digits between her moist labia. His low, ragged groan intertwined with the soft gasp tumbling from the back of her throat. “Angel, you’re so wet for me.” His eyes glinted with surprise. “I barely touched you.”
“I can’t help it,” she whimpered. “I get very wet when I think about you.” Another groan rumbled from his chest.
Chase fondled and rubbed his thumb over her engorged clitoris, which throbbed heavily when his lips tilted into an almost boyish grin. Pressing her back to the chair for support, Larke sank her teeth into her bottom lip the moment he delved the tip of his index finger inside her pussy.
