My anger erupted, fueled by exhaustion, attraction, and the rising fear that he was right. I stepped right up to him, refusing to back down. “Maybe you don’t trust me to handle this!”
He stared at me, his hazel eyes flashing. “Maybe you’re trying to control everything because you can’t stand not knowing the outcome!”
His words hung in the air like the Florida humidity, thick and unavoidable. He was so close I could feel the heat from his body, his clean scent invading my senses, my anger mixing with something else entirely. The whole thing was overwhelming, the air crackling.
The expression on his face was determined, intense, and I couldn’t tell if I wanted to kiss it or slap it.
Both.
I wanted both.
And then, suddenly, I couldn’t tell which was which because his mouth was on mine.
He’d moved so fast I hardly saw him coming. And all that frustration, simmering attraction, and boiling tensionbetween us ignited. My head spun from the force of his mouth. Our kiss wasn’t gentle—it was a collision. Tongues clashed, hands gripped, clothes were wrenched aside. There was no air, no pause. Just weeks and months of wanting unleashed all at once. His lips were firm, insistent, angry. The taste of him was everything I’d been trying to fight. Buttons and boundaries blurred. My tank top ripped as he tugged it over my head.
I gasped against his mouth, his hands on my bare skin at last. “Yes! Don’t stop.”
I fumbled with the button on his jeans, then yanked his shirt up over his head. He backed me against the desk, the wood cool against my thighs as I pulled him closer, both of us frantic, all logic and restraint gone. My bra came next, the straps snapping, sliding down my arms. It joined his shirt somewhere on the floor.
“Harper,” he breathed, hoarse and rough. His mouth moved from my lips to my throat, his hands roaming over me, pulling, gripping, squeezing, like he was making sure I was real. His touch burned through me, frantic and impossibly intense.
My mind reeled as I remembered who I was, who he was, who I thought I was supposed to be. He wrenched the jeans from my legs, and it all spun away again, the hard reality of my life evaporating like steam against his skin. Chase was here. And I wanted this. More than anything.
He lifted me and set me on the desk, leaving me bare to him, not an inch of clothing left. I should have been embarrassed. I should have been anything but what I was—desperate, gasping, clawing at his pants. But he was relentless, hungry, catching my mouth in his again, stifling the tiny cry that slipped out of me as I got his jeans and underwear off his hips. They slid in a heap to the floor, and he kicked them aside.
As his body came into full breathtaking view, my breath caught, and my hands slowed. Jesus. Hard and ready, he was… huge. I hesitated, thrown back into my own head, caught between wild anticipation and fear. He must have seen it in my eyes, in the way my body stiffened under his hands. He paused, his breath ragged, his gaze searching mine with sudden concern.
“Hey,” he murmured, brushing hair back from my face. “You okay?”
I swallowed hard. “I haven’t been with anyone since… since Finn’s father.” My voice sounded strange in my own ears, shaky and unsure, and the laugh I barked was even worse. “I’m not sure I even remember how.”
He stilled above me, then let out an almost relieved laugh. His eyes softened with something more than just heat before he pressed a gentle kiss across my jaw. “You don’t need to worry about that. We’ll figure it out together.”
And then he showed me just how much he meant it. His hands were slow now, tender as they moved over my skin with reverence and care. He whispered my name like a promise against my neck, trailing kisses down my throat until I melted beneath him. My earlier panic faded into something else entirely.
He stroked the hair back from my face, his touch gentle as if he was calming a startled animal. Then he smoothed his palms down my arms, pausing, offering me a way out. “Better now?”
The smart thing would be to stop. To walk away. To remember all the reasons why this was a disaster waiting to happen.
But the smart thing had nothing to do with what I wanted.
And God, I wanted this. I wanted him.
“Yes.”
“You’re so beautiful.” He ran his lips over my collarbone, his breath sending a hot shiver through me. He went on, the words almost too quiet to hear, the sound of my name mingling with sweet, unexpected things that melted me from the inside.
Any last thread of reluctance dissolved. I nodded, a silent plea for him not to stop, never to stop. He smiled against my neck, the feel of it turning my knees to water.
I moaned as his mouth traveled down my chest, as his hands explored me with more care and patience than I’d known in years. Maybe ever. Reverence and hunger mingled in every touch, in every kiss, drawing out every forgotten piece of myself. My body responded to him in ways I thought I’d locked away. In ways I thought I didn’t deserve to feel again.
Chase’s mouth found my breast, and I gasped, arching into him. His tongue was a slow tease, circling, tasting, sending sparks through every nerve. He took me deeper, sucking hard, his hand kneading the other with a perfect rhythm that made my head spin.
It was too much. Not enough. My fingers gripped his silky hair, holding him there as everything but the feel of him faded away. The way he touched me was so focused, so intent on making sure I knew how much he wanted me.
My heart raced as he switched sides, his mouth relentless, pulling me back from the edge of my own hesitation. Each tug and stroke shot straight to my core, lighting up every inch of skin. I felt wild under his hands, every breath a plea for more.
I’d never been so aroused in my life.
