“Tor,” he murmurs, leaning closer. “It’s you, baby. Only you. I love you.”
And then he’s kissing me.
His lips are soft but firm, assertive in a way that leaves no doubt about his feelings. He kisses me like he’s claiming me, promising me fidelity and forever. His tongue parts my lips, and I open for him, relishing in the feel of his hard body pressed against mine.
I melt into him, my chest pressing against his, my hands tangling in his hair.
I am home. He is home.
My God, I’ve missed him.
We’ve broken up and gotten back together four times since freshman year. I ask him the same question every time, and he never gives me a clear answer.
I have no idea how many other women Chase has hooked up with while we’ve been apart, and I probably never will.
Is that going to stop me from taking him back? No.
Because I love him. And we are inevitable. And these are just bumps along the road to our happily ever after.
Since the day we met in the tutoring lab in tenth grade, I’ve wanted him.
The math nerd and the baseball player.
I dreamed of us paralleling Nathan and Haley fromOne Tree Hill. The unlikely couple, falling in love, staying in love through all the bumps and pivots, ultimately living happily ever after. No matter the obstacle, nothing could separate us. No one could stop us. We’d defy the odds and have a love so fierce they’d write stories and songs about us.
“Let’s go back to my place,” he whispers against my lips, his voice rough with need.
“Say less.”
ONE
TORI
The HR buildingsmells like floor polish and new beginnings.
I repeat my internal mantra as I cross the threshold:Back straight. Head high. Be thankful. Be kind.
Is working as a secretary for a pod of math professors my dream job? Not even close. But, it’s a paycheck.
And after everything I left behind in Moraine—including ten years of a marriage that chipped away at my soul—I need this clean slate more than I care to admit.
I owe Dexter for pulling strings to get me in. I was on the cusp of partner at Smith Accounting, a title I practically bled for. Years of 4 a.m. mornings and 10 p.m. client calls.
I gave them everything.
And they gave me… nothing.
Well—worse than nothing. They let me think I had a chance. Maybe I did. But you can only break in the same spot so many times before the whole damn structure collapses.
My phone rings just as I reach for the door. I don’t have to look to know who it is.
Chase. Again.
I silence it and shove it back into my purse.
Let my attorney handle him.
Well, the attorney I have yet to actually acquire. But I will. And when I do, the attorney will handle Chase.
