That wasn’t a yes, but the way she leaned into my body gave me hope. I cleared my throat. “Why don’t we eat while we talk?”
She smiled and took her seat at the table.
“This looks delicious.” She caught sight of the lettering on her piece and laughed. “Chase, I’m sensing a theme here.”
I shrugged sheepishly, grabbed the utensils, and joined her for dinner. I picked at my own food, watching her out of the corner of my eye. Her blissed out face after her first bite of quiche helped me focus on my own plate.
I opened my mouth to ask her about her week, or her sisters, then reconsidered. I didn’t want to pick at any old wounds. She caught me staring.
“What?” she asked. “Do I have egg on my face?”
I forced a smile. “Nope. Pretty sure that’s me.”
Tamra tilted her head, and the dark curls cascaded over one shoulder. Her expression was serene. I cleared my throat. “Do you think you can forgive me?”
She pushed a bite around before making eye contact with me.
“I’m through being a quitter.”
I couldn’t mask my confusion. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
She shrugged and pushed an O shaped radish round in circles. I scowled. “Tamra, I’m the asshole here. If we need a panel of the finest strangers to testify on your behalf, we can post it as a question online, but I think we both know the answer.” I held a hand to my chest. “I’m the screw-up.”
She shook her head and refused to look at me. “Hey. Hey,” I said, wrapping my hand around hers where she gripped her fork. She finally looked up, and what I saw in her eyes had me letting go immediately. She didn’t believe me. I shook my head. No. My letter was supposed to make her feel better, more confident in my feelings for her. Not gaslight her into something she didn’t want.
If she truly didn’t want me, then I needed to walk away. I took a sip of wine to ease the tightness in my chest. Yes, I wanted to convince her to give me another try, but make her feel like a quitter for refusing me. She had to want it too.
I swallowed down the ache. The last thing I wanted was to lose this chance. So why was I giving it up without a fight? Her brown eyes told the story. For Tamra. I’d do anything for her. If I wasn’t what she needed, then it was better to realize it now.
As much as it pained me, I forced the next words out. “I think we should be friends.”
Her bewildered expression had me blowing past the bullshit clogging my throat and serving it up like the finest fudge. “Until I can prove myself. This way, if I screw up, you’re free to move on. No quitting required.”
Tamra gave her head a shake, as if she heard me wrong. I wanted to backtrack. Pull the words back in and smash them down into my burning gut. As much as I wanted her in my life, I didn’t want her manipulated to be there. She had to want me, not fear what leaving me said about her.
“What is it you think is happening here?” she asked.
“You said it yourself—you’re tired of being a quitter. But that doesn’t mean you have to stay with me.”
Her brows arched. “Oh, yeah? Then why should I stay?”
I swallowed. Hard. Did I argue for what I wanted, or what I thought she needed? Sensing my indecision, she pushed forward. “Should I stay because I feel special, seen, and accepted for maybe the first time in my life? Or because you cook a mean apology meal? How about because I can’t stop thinking about you, and I want to be with you?”
I swallowed again and nodded. Relief flowed through me at her words.
“Yeah? Which one?” she asked softly.
“Any of them, but I’m hoping it’s for more than my cooking.” I swallowed and forced a smile. “There’s always takeout.”
Her lips tilted up, and my smile became more genuine. I reached out and clasped her fingers in mine, enjoying the elegant arch of her knuckles and the short nails. “So, you’re ready to try this. Us? For real?”
I didn’t hold my breath, but I wanted to. She nodded. “Chase, I’m ready.”
“You know I’m going to mess up again?”
“So am I.” Her eyes met mine and she shrugged. “I didn’t have to take it so hard when you stood me up. You forgetting about me reminded me of all the times my own family showed how easy it was to ignore me. Like nothing had changed, and I was still the easily overlooked one.”
I shook my head. “No. Never forgotten. If anything, I was thinking of you too much—would Tamra like this scene? Will she laugh here?”
“So, you’re saying that in addition to my nursing career, I can tell my family I’m also a full-time muse?”
I couldn’t hold back my grimace. “Maybe not your sisters.”
Tamra’s brows rose in question, and I shivered theatrically. “I think we’ve given Jennifer more than enough gossip material for one lifetime.”
Tamra laughed, and we settled into an easy rhythm, talking like we hadn’t had a gap in our time together. Like I hadn’t almost ruined everything. Again. After dinner, we settled on the couch.
Every brush of our hands built like static in my bloodstream. I was afraid touching her again would zap me, but at the same time I wanted to feel the burn. Tamra peered through her lashes. “You know what would help make this apology stick?”
“No, but I’m all ears.”
“Can you be all tongues?”
She surprised a laugh out of me. My head nodded like a bobblehead toy and she smiled in response.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re direct?”
Tamra smiled. “It’s the new me—going after what I want. Taking risks. Not giving up.”
My heart beat heavy in my chest.
“And what do you want most right now?”
Say me. Say me.
“To make your words reality.”
Close, but not quite. I swallowed, trying to push down the lump in my throat. “Which ones?” I asked.
She leaned in and ran a finger down the open throat of my collared shirt, tracing the pulse beating a tattoo in my throat. Tamra advanced to straddle my lap, and I groaned as her warm weight settled over my groin. Sweet torture. Her dark eyes met mine.
“I’m partial to the steamy ones.”
I swallowed. Words. She was talking about words. Now if only I could find some.
“I take it you’re a fan of the pool table scene in my book?”
She wrapped her hands around my neck and leaned back, pushing her hips into mine. It was her turn to become a bobblehead. “Oh, yeah. It’s just a shame you don’t have one.”
My grin spread slowly across my face. “Have I ever mentioned my game room?” She shook her head, and I bit back a groan as her body rocked on mine with the motion. “I converted my spare room into a gaming space. I have a pool table, gaming consoles, and a TV.”
She released her hands from behind my neck and pushed to her feet with a saucy grin.
“Do you want to grab supplies and show me this fabled game room of yours?”
Assuming supplies was code for condoms and lube, I responded with alacrity. “Yes.” I stood and grabbed her hand, tugging her gently behind me as I stepped into my room for provisions from my bedside table. I nodded toward the bed, gesturing with our clasped hands.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather spend time together in here? It’s definitely more comfortable.”
“Later. You owe me a happy ending first.”
She tugged on my hand, pulling me toward the door, and I didn’t argue. I was dumb, but I wasn’t that dumb. In wooing, what the lady wanted, the lady would get.
Chapter 30 - Tamra
“Wow. That’s a large ... pool table.” My dry observation surprised a laugh out of Chase. He’d been eager when he tugged me to his room and then his game room, but as we entered, his steps slowed, and he seemed unsure what to do next.
“I think it’s more important to note that it’s a sturdy ... pool table. So it can handle all the balls knocking around.”
I squinted, unsure w
here our metaphor had gotten off track. I didn’t remember that from the pool bet scene. My heart pounded to think he’d bring the moment to life just for me.
Chase used our entwined hands to tug me closer to the undeniably solid pool table. He wrapped his hands around my waist and boosted me to sit on the edge. Leaning back, I braced myself on the green felt that tickled my palms, letting my thighs fall open. The pose pushed out my breasts, and Chase zeroing in on my cleavage and the soft skin on display as he pushed closer. My pulse raced as the heat of his hips brushed against mine.
My eyes traced his broad shoulders in his short-sleeved buttoned polo shirt. He should have looked like he was waiting for a tee time, not a good time. But. Those shoulders—broad, perfect for leaning on. The light tan on his arms and the corded muscles of his forearms spoke to the time he spent riding and lifting with Jimmy. He was freshly shaven, and I tingled at the sight of the broad grin that spread across his full lips.
He was mesmerized. By me. I shivered. The full weight of his attention made me feel powerful. Every cell expanded at his obvious adoration. Chase’s eyes traveled back to mine, and his blue eyes sparked, making my throat seize at the emotion there.
It was too much. Too fast. After having been starved of his attention for so long, I needed more time to transition to the sun. Build up a base layer of exposure. Get used to the idea that he wanted me too before he burned me up. I swallowed.
“I thought you wanted to play out the whole scene, play strip pool and all?” I asked.
Chase watched me silently for a moment before inching back.
“Whatever the lady wants,” he murmured, helping me down from the table and heading to the rack on the wall to select two pool cues. I shivered at the echoed pledge from his book.
“In the interest of authenticity, aren’t we supposed to be betting on something?” I asked, my heart racing.
He went to the TV and streamed some music with a slow beat and soulful vocals. “Hmm ... let’s see, in the book I think the loser had to do the dinner dishes, but I already plan to take care of those. How about loser has to stay the night?”
I smirked. “Are you that confident you’ll win?”
He shrugged. “I figure if I lose, I’m sleeping here anyway. And I’d still have a shot at convincing you to stay with me. You are talking to someone who owns a pool table, after all.”
Chase’s body brushed mine as he handed over my cue, the big palm he placed on my hip burning.
“Hmm ... how about loser makes breakfast?”
His eyes lit at my suggestion, and he swayed infinitesimally closer before his competitive streak pulled him back. A smart man would think of the bigger picture and let me win. But that wasn’t Chase. Especially not with food and nakedness on the line. My cooking hadn’t made the list of things he loved about me in his letter. Chances were, even if I lost, he’d insist on cooking. From the lust in his eyes, seeing me stripped bare over the pool table would be reward enough.
“Would you like to break?”
I nodded, chalking my cue and taking my position at the table. Would he let me win? I popped my hip and arched my back as I took my shot and sank two balls on the break. I twirled my index finger in the air, then held up two fingers with a saucy grin.
Chase’s eyes widened, but he put his clothing where his mouth was. He peeled off one sock, then the other. “I’m not always this seductive. Sometimes I’m sleeping.”
I chuckled and took another shot but scratched. Even Chase’s bare feet were enough to distract me. Shaking my head in mock disappointment, I gestured to the table. He lined up his shot, then gave me a sly glance before popping his hip and arching his back as he took it. Uncontrollable laughter burst from my lips. He concentrated through my chuckles and sank two balls of his own. He mimicked my earlier finger twirl, and I shrugged as I slipped off my hoodie. Chase licked his lips and focused hard on my cherry red shirt as I reached instead for the button of my jeans, pushing them down my hips and onto the floor.
“Keeping the shirt?” he mocked.
“I don’t want to distract you too early,” I said, stepping past him in my panties and T-shirt.
I’d lied about not wearing any underwear. He glanced appreciatively down my body, and goosebumps pebbled along my legs as I shivered.
I considered the table carefully. Chase had taken the easy shots on his turn, and I was left with some unlikely angles to play. I wandered around the table, and Chase’s eyes followed every step. With no good shots to play, I took aim and managed to sink one more ball on my turn. I wiggled my brows suggestively at Chase, and he gave a brief huff of laughter before reaching for his shirt, peeling it up over his abs and spinning and tossing it with a flourish in time to the music playing in the background.
I couldn’t help but stare. A sprinkling of hair covered the musculature of his upper body. He sauntered around the table, and the muscles of his back rippled as he set up a shot. It was my turn to ad-lib. Placing the base of my pool cue on the ground and holding it upright, I took a step spin around it. “Chase, I think I mentioned that I’ve been taking dance classes?” He gave up all pretense of examining the table, focusing entirely on me instead. I could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.
His hoarse, “Yeah,” stroked my nerve endings. His throat bobbed again as he stared at me in my shirt and bikini briefs.
“My pole dancing class has been very ... empowering.” I pivot-turned with my stick. I’d maneuvered so my back was to the wall, my hand loosely grasping my pool cue like a cane. I slowly sank down against rough plaster, my head tilted back, and my legs slightly splayed.
My eyes closed softly as I sank into the music, letting my head fall into a roll before pushing off the wall with one shoulder, using my stick for balance as I strutted back toward the pool table. Chase was frozen in place watching. Confidence built over weeks of classes bloomed inside me. I owned this moment. This man.
“Maybe you can see me live sometime.”
I smiled, eyes wide and innocent.
“It’s still your turn, right? Show me what you’ve got.”
His throat bobbed once more, and I wondered if I should offer him some water. He looked ... thirsty. I was flushed, and I could feel my heartbeat steadily picking up speed. This is what I wanted. Chase. He couldn’t stop casting glances my way.
Chase turned back to the table, focusing as if his life depended on it. With diabolical intent, I started swaying with my pool cue to the music. His eyes flicked up to me, then back down to the table, and he took a deep breath before his shot. Damn. Even with epic levels of distraction, he sank one.
His eyes raised slowly from the table to my body. His glance flicked back and forth between my underwear and shirt, as if weighing the odds of which one I’d ditch. I put him out of his misery and peeled off my shirt, exposing my lacy bra. The black microfiber and scalloped lace cupped and enhanced. Chase couldn’t quite contain his groan as the tops of my breasts came into view. He stood up woodenly from the table, adjusting himself as he gestured for me to take my turn.
I walked around the table, calculating the shots available and considering my options. Chase wasn’t the only one having a hard time focusing on the game. I was aware of his eyes devouring my every move. I tried to embrace the lessons I’d learned in my dance class, moving my body with purpose and sensuality, avoiding letting myself get distracted by parts that jiggled more than I wanted. Slow. Sensual. I swayed against my pool cue, feeling the beat of the music in the background. Wishing instead that it was Chase’s strong body against mine.
I looked at the table without seeing it, my mind too consumed with Chase’s broad shoulders and back on display. Strong forearms. Handsome feet. Hey, feet could be sexy. His body could be all mine in a matter of minutes if I lost the game.
Chase wasn’t perfect. I wasn’t perfect. But he saw me. Accepted me. Hadn’t forgotten me. Not truly. He’d convinced me I had a place in his heart. He’d already weaseled his way into mine.
Sometimes you have to lose some to win some. That was a saying, right? I focused back on the table. The nine-ball was perilously close to one of the pockets. I leaned in to take my shot. Chase was holding his breath, mesmerized by my breasts swaying over the table. I glanced at him through my lashes and smiled as I sank the nine-ball in the pocket without looking. “Oops, guess I lose.”
It took a few moments for my words to register with Chase, but when they did it was like someone flipped a switch, and he stalked toward me. “Does that mean I can collect my prize?”
Instead of answering, I traced my hands up his chest and around his neck, tilting my head back to look into his blue eyes. He took it for the invitation it was and bent his mouth to mine. That first kiss was whisper soft, his lips brushing mine. The velvety smooth kisses infused me with aching desire. My pulse beat with every stroke, building to a steady drum in my head, in my heart, and between my legs.
He broke away with a groan, breathing hard. My legs trembled, and I tried to catch my breath. Chase rested his forehead against mine for a moment before moving around me to push the balls out of the way and boost me onto the green velvet. My thighs widened to create a cradle for his, and he stepped into my heat. Chase still wore his jeans, and the friction of his fly rubbing against the silk between my thighs was deliciously slippery.
He cupped my chin in his hands and kissed me softly before moving on to trace my neck and chest with his lips. “As promised. I’m doing everything I can to earn that happy ending.” The soft sandpaper of his tongue scraped against the tendons at the base of my neck before he softly scored the area with his teeth. I shivered in response and felt myself grow slick. At this rate, we were both going to make a mess of his jeans.
My hands fell to his waistband, slowly running my fingers under the edge and around, feeling only hot skin. It was my turn to groan. “Chase, are you wearing underwear? Now I’m disappointed I didn’t sink at least one more ball. I had no idea the full monty was next.”
I could feel his lips curve against my skin before he made his way back to my mouth, leaving a trail of sensation behind. I lost myself in his kisses, letting my hands run over his firm torso and shoulders. Exploring the hollows, his skin burning beneath my fingertips. Chase’s busy hands stroked down my back, unhooking my bra clasp and dragging the straps down my shoulders. The lace tugged across my body, sending shivers over my sensitized skin. I couldn’t help but undulate my hips closer to his to try to assuage the ache between my legs.
Mister Romance Page 23
