“Wow.” The single word comes out in a sigh and I’m not sure he even catches it. A smug smile graces his gorgeous face and I tug him up so I can kiss him.
Every second our lips are connected reignites the fire I feel with him. I’m greedy and I want more.
I tug on the back of his head, tilting it and biting his lip. My other hand wanders lower, searching for the hard shaft protruding from him. When my fist wraps around his impressive cock, he hisses a breath between his teeth.
“I want you,” I say into his shoulder, somehow unable to say it to his face despite the fact that said face was just between my legs.
“Are you sure?” He grips my chin, pushing it up to force me to look him in the eyes. His blue irises are open and honest, checking in with me, and I know he’d be fine if I told him to stop right now. But I don’t want to.
I nod. “There’s nothing I want more.” He kisses me with reckless abandon, bruising my lips with the force. He rolls over, hopping off the bed and hurrying into the bathroom. When he reappears, he has a foil packet in his hand and he rips it open and rolls the condom on before he joins me.
He crawls over to me and it would be sexy if he’d stop yammering. “I wasn’t like, expecting anything to happen between us this weekend, just so you know. I mean, I wanted it to happen, but I didn’t want to pressure you into anything. It’s just—”
“Chase? Just fucking kiss me already.” That shuts him up.
He hovers over me, the tip of his cock teasing my soaked entrance. He keeps sliding in an inch and pulling out, not allowing any real connection.
“God, you feel incredible and I haven’t even been all the way inside you yet.” He forces the words out through clenched teeth. It’s empowering to see how I’m affecting him.
I bend my knees, giving him the access and permission he needs. The man has a patient of a saint because he moves slow, so freaking tantalizingly slow, he pushes into me, inch by inch until I’m full. His erection stretches me from the inside out and it takes a moment for me to adjust to him. It’s been a while since anyone’s been where he’s at.
“God, Red, do you feel that? Do you feel how we fit together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces made for each other?” He takes his good ol’ time as he pulls out again and if he doesn’t fuck me good soon, I’ll scream.
He grips the bottoms of my thighs, lifting my legs up higher on his hips. The new position causes a euphoric friction and I emit another porn star-worthy moan. His pelvis is hitting my clit, the tender bud still throbbing from my last orgasm and yet already ready for more.
He picks up the pace, angling deeper into me. His skin slaps against mine and the sensory stimulation takes me over the edge again. My legs shake in his hands and they so desperately want to close, but he holds them open.
I pinch my eyes shut, riding the wave to O-town blissfully. “I need you to look at me.” My green eyes pierce his blues which are navy with his arousal.
I let him see into my soul, my feelings, my wants, my wishes and desires. I allow him to see the fear I have of letting him in, of letting him get too close. He could be my everything or he could shatter me.
I want him to see it all. I want him to have it all.
I just want him.
10
Chase
This woman will be the death of me. My orgasm alone nearly killed me from its intensity, and if every time with her is going to be like that, I should invest in a heart monitor or something. My pulse is racing at top speed, adrenaline coursing through my veins like a wildfire spreading through the forest. She’s everything I ever wanted and everything I didn’t know I needed until this very moment.
I glance over to where she’s lying sound asleep and brush a blonde lock out of her face. She looks like an angel when she sleeps, but I know the truth.
The truth is, she’s a spitfire, a little minx full of sass and sex personified. She’s quick and witty, smart and hilarious, gorgeous and still humble, rich but not stuck up. She’s a lover and a fighter. She’s passionate, strong, and compassionate.
She’s perfect.
I need her to be mine.
I was serious when I told Hunter I wouldn’t screw this up with her. I want to give us a real shot. I haven’t had a crush this intense since Emily Robertson in the third grade and that was only because she was the star player in gym class during softball week. She wasn’t interested in me. She was more interested in her other female teammates.
I watch Hailey’s chest rise and fall under the sheet and I know she’s naked under there. It’s tempting to wake her up and ask for round two.
Her skin is so soft and creamy. Her slight tan lines around her breasts and below her hips indicate she’s a good girl, not tanning topless or frequenting nude beaches. But I know she’s not as good as she seems. She’s a naughty little enigma. She’s arousing as hell.
I trail my fingers over her back, tickling the silky skin. She doesn’t like that, it seems. Her arm reaches over her, swatting my hand away. Her grunt is full of anger when I touch her and she kicks her legs to push me away.
Apparently my girl isn’t a cuddler. That’s new, considering most girls live for it. I guess she’s not my girl just yet, but I intend to make it official as soon as possible. Hell, I’ll ask her tomorrow if the timing is right. I don’t want to waste one minute and risk someone else coming along and sweeping her up.
I settle into my pillow, both hands folded behind my head. Tomorrow I can tell the world she’s mine and we’ll deal with the consequences later.
◊◊◊
What. The fuck. Is that? A loud beat permeates my sleep, jolting me from my peaceful dreamland where Hailey and I are together.
“Shit.” An arousing female voice whispers from the corner of the room. She’s huddled on the floor, the bedsheet she stole from my bed wrapped around her haphazardly.
So last night wasn’t just a vivid dream. Thank fuck for that.
“Hailey, what in God’s name are you doing?”
She glances over her shoulder at me when I say her name. My voice is deep and raspy and I attempt to rub the sleep from my eyes.
“Sorry, I’m so sorry. It’s my alarm going off. I have this silly tradition of having a dance party first thing every morning to get me hyped for the day?” She says it like a question as if she’s not sure why she does that.
She finds her blaring device, shuts it off, and bounces back onto the bed. “You stole my sheet.” I tear the blanket off of her, exposing her pert, pink nipples and flat, muscular stomach.
“Hey!” She swats at me, tugging at the sheet to cover herself up. I, however, have a different idea.
I tackle her, flattening her under me and kissing her, morning breath be damned. I want to kiss her senseless, but that’s what she does to me. She makes me weak in the knees even when I’m lying down. She’s a freaking powerhouse. She’s the human version of mitochondria.
“Oh, good morning, by the way,” I say between kisses. I’m so glad she stayed over.
“Good morning.” She tucks her head into my shoulder, as if she’s embarrassed about the sleepover. She better get used to it because I plan on having many, many more.
“So, what’s the deal with the music and the dancing, anyway?” I play with her hair, an adorable rat’s nest completely knotted from her violent sleep habits.
“It started when I was a kid. My parents had a heck of a time getting me out of bed for school. My mom thought if she made it into a game I’d be more inclined to wake up in a timely manner. Lucky for her, it worked and the tradition just kind of stuck. Plus, it’s a rush of endorphins. I feel good, confident, happy when I dance. It’s the best way to feel first thing in the morning.”
She shrugs, a blush creeping up her cheeks with her story. Her parents have always been incredible people. They’re the type of parents I wish I had growing up. Hell, I wish they were my parents now.
Things haven’t always been easy with me and my parents. I’m not sure how
much Hailey knows about my relationship with my mother and father, but it’s not a conversation I want to delve into first thing in the morning. The dance party could be fun though.
“Well, go on, then.” I gesture for her to get up.
“What?” Her eyebrows crinkle when she’s confused, and it’s adorable. I smooth the line between her brows with my thumb.
“Go ahead and dance. I don’t want to mess up your routine or anything. Feel free to make yourself at home.” There’s no way in hell she agrees to this, but my dick is hardening at the prospect of watching her dance just for me.
“Oh no, no, no. Absolutely not. You haven’t earned that privilege yet.” She holds the blanket tight to her chest and shakes her head adamantly.
“Yet? So, someday, you’ll dance just for me?” My voice is husky and every second that passes gets me more aroused. My imagination runs wild.
“Maybe. If you’re lucky.” She leans in close and kisses me. I plan to do everything in my power to earn that right as soon as possible.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand and I’m annoyed at having to pull away from Hailey’s soft lips. First her phone and now mine. Can’t we have five minutes of peace this morning?
“Yo man, what’s up?” Under any other circumstance I wouldn’t answer the phone with a girl in my bed, but since it’s Hunter I kind of have to.
“Who’s that?” Why does she have to be so freaking nosy?
“Was that my sister?” It’s relatively early considering it’s a quarter after nine in the morning and we didn’t have plans to meet with him for a few more hours.
I put my fingers up to my lips to tell her to stay quiet. “Uh, yeah. She thought we were meeting you for breakfast again and came knocking on my door super early.” I hate lying to him but it’s a necessary evil at this point.
“Well, bad news; Ali came home late last night super sick, so I have to stay home with her today. I’m sorry.” I internally curse and drag a hand through my hair. We didn’t even say goodbye to him and I don’t know when we’ll see him next. This will crush Hailey.
I get off the bed and cross the room, looking for some semblance of privacy, but considering it’s a hotel room I don’t have many options. I hover in the corner, turning my head so I’m talking into the wall.
“So, why are you calling me instead of her?” I’m rubbing my forehead to combat an oncoming headache.
“I tried. Her phone is off.” Shit. She turned it off when she shut off her damn alarm. “If she’s still there, put her on. I’ll tell her.” I nod even though he can’t see me.
Spinning around, I walk back toward the bed with my arm outstretched. “It’s your brother,” I whisper. Based on her immediate reaction—a frown forms and the three little lines between her brows appear as they furrow—my face tells her everything she needs to know.
“Hey, Hunt, what’s up?” Her voice shakes and as he responds her frown grows deeper. I sit on the edge of the bed beside her and rub my hand up and down her leg still under the covers.
“Great, well, call me when I can have my brother back and tell the wicked witch to go fuck herself.” She angrily hits the end call button which is so much less effective than when you used to be able to slam down the phone to make a point. Hanging up on someone just doesn’t let out the same amount of aggression anymore.
She throws the phone and I bite my tongue even though I want to remind her it’s my phone she’s throwing. “Do you want to, like… key her car or send her a glitter bomb in the mail? Or maybe send her a laxative cake?” I’m rubbing my hands together like a classic villain plotting a devious scheme.
Her lips twitch but a full smile never forms. Still, that small reaction pushes me to try harder to make her happy. “What do you wanna do today? We have the whole day to do anything you want. Maybe we can hit up another wedding? I’ll let you embarrass me as much as you want.”
She forces a smile, but I can tell it’s not genuine. Her eyes are glossy with unshed tears and she sniffles, pressing a hand to her forehead and rubbing. “I’m going to hop in the shower.”
I’m debating whether or not I should follow and join her, but instead of heading to my bathroom, she leaves, going to her own room.
I want to kiss away her anger and sadness, but we’re in such a weird limbo state right now I’m not even sure I’m allowed to kiss her on a whim. We never got to talk about what this will be moving forward.
Just because we slept together once doesn’t mean we’re dating. I want to be with her, but I’m not certain she feels the same. For Christ’s sake, she shut me out when we could’ve talked about this incident with her brother. How can I help her if she won’t let me?
◊◊◊
She decided she wanted to go home now instead of later. That was her big revelation after an hour-long shower.
We’re sitting side-by-side in my SUV and she keeps letting out frustrated huffs. She tugs on her hair and every time she flicks it over her shoulder the lavender scent of her shampoo flickers over to me.
She’s torturing me and she doesn’t even know it.
“Talk to me, Hails.” I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. Her body is angled toward the window and she stiffens, halting her anxious movements.
“There’s nothing else for me to say that I haven’t already said.” She shrugs, but she still won’t look at me.
“How can I help?” I reach my hand out to touch her thigh, but stop myself and return my twitchy fingers back to my steering wheel.
She turns, her knees knocking into one another with her angry motion and slaps her hand on the center console. “God, Chase, you can’t always fix everything. It’s not always about you. This isn’t just my brother I’m talking about here—he was my best friend, too, and now I lost them both.”
I know she’s only lashing out because she’s upset and I’m the easy target, but it still stings. “I’m not trying to fix anything. I’m just trying to help. He was my best friend, too, you know.” Jeez, we’re making it sound like he died.
And still she doesn’t even dignify me with a response. We have an hour left of this road trip and the silent treatment is already unbearable. We started this weekend on a high note and it only got better when we got together. Now, everything has come crashing down in a few hours’ time.
I turn on the radio and the death glare I receive from my bitter passenger is almost enough to actually knock me dead. I turn the stereo off, gripping the wheel with an intensity enough to turn my knuckles white.
Screw this. I’m coming up on my favorite ice cream place and decide to take the exit and make the trip.
“Where are we going?” Her usually airy voice is hostile and thick with contempt.
“To get ice cream.”
“I don’t want ice cream.” She’s a pouty teenage with an attitude problem.
“Well, I hear it’s not always about you.” I smile with the statement, but she doesn’t see it. She probably thinks I’m just being a dick, but I’m about to buy her ice cream. I’m sure she’ll get over it.
I park the car in the tiny lot outside of the fifties-style soda shoppe. Classic black and white checkerboard tiles line the floor. Round tables have shiny pink and yellow cushioned stools while other tables have multi-colored, retro-style, striped-back chairs.
A teal jukebox sits in the corner playing classic fifties songs and the walls are lined with time-period artwork. Street signs reading Sock-Hop Lane and Scoop Street point in various directions throughout the shop.
This place has the best banana split around and it’s worth the forty-five minute drive out of the city. One scoop chocolate, one vanilla, and one strawberry sit on a sliced open banana. Chocolate syrup, peanuts, whipped cream, and a cherry sit atop the decadent homemade ice cream. It’s heavenly.
I place my order and turn to my reluctant date. I’m surprised she even got out of the car. “What’ll ya have?” She marches up to the transparent glass and speaks to the kind waitress wearing a pi
nk poodle skirt and roller skates.
“A hot fudge brownie sundae with three scoops of chocolate ice cream, chocolate sprinkles, and hold the whipped cream. Please.” The girl’s a chocoholic. How did I not know this?
“You aiming for a world record in the highest amount of chocolate consumed in the shortest amount of time or something?” I smirk because her ice cream choice rivals a young child with a sweet tooth.
We grab a high-top table with brightly colored, swiveling stools. Within moments our waitress is rolling over to us with our creamy treats. Mine is a monstrosity in a banana boat, but Hailey’s is in one of those deep glass dishes, filled to the brim with chocolate. I have diabetes just from looking at it.
She takes a large spoonful and moans as the fudgy treat hits her tongue. “I thought you didn’t want ice cream?” I can’t help but poke the bear.
“This isn’t ice cream. This is chocolate heaven.” She’s talking around a mouthful of food and a dribble of hot fudge glides down her lip. She tries to catch it with her tongue, but only smears it across her lip further.
“You have some—” I motion to my mouth to tell her she missed a spot. I reach across the table, wiping away the chocolate with my thumb and licking off the remnants. “You’re right—it is delicious.”
“I believe I said it was heaven.” Her voice is breathy. This pit stop for bribery and distraction seems to have worked wonders, thank God.
We eat and all her little moans of appreciation make my dick hard. I’m sure she knows what she’s doing to me and if she’s not careful, I’ll fuck her in my backseat. It doesn’t help she’s seductively licking the spoon with every bite she takes.
When we finish, I have to adjust my dick under the table before getting up. We hop into my car and as I’m buckling my seatbelt Hailey lets out a loud exhale. “Thanks for that.”
“It was my pleasure, Red. I’m being serious—that banana split is to die for.” A light laugh bubbles out of her and I think this day might be salvaged after all.
She still doesn’t talk for the rest of the ride home, but when I turn the radio on I don’t get a death glare from hell. When I pull up outside her apartment, she doesn’t get out of the car right away. I want to walk her to the door, but I don’t know if Mackenzie is home, and she doesn’t know Hailey was with me this weekend.
Chasing Red Page 8
