by A Caprice
The man got under her skin. If she wasn’t careful, he’d find his way back under her bed sheets too. Andie had already ridden in that rodeo and she wasn’t eager to repeat the experience. At least, not the fallout.
When she’d held the phone in her hand four years ago, realizing he had dismissed her with a fake number, she hadn’t been able to breathe. It had felt like all her air had been knocked right out of her, like getting tossed from a bronco. Knowing that her feelings for the jerk had far exceeded what he must have taken for a meaningless fling was not only humiliating but had made her question her judgment.
She drained her beer and turned toward the sliding glass door, not able to stop herself from looking one last time at the room next door. She would never be so naive again.
Her hand clenched around the bottle when a knock sounded at the door. She peered through the peephole.
Damn.
She swung open the door and looked up into the bastard’s warm green eyes. “What do you want?’
A furrow appeared on his forehead. “I was hoping you’d want to grab some dinner,” he said slowly. “Is something wrong?”
“Everything’s fine.” She unclenched her jaw. It was unfair to snap at him. It wasn’t his fault she had been an idiot and thought there was more to their relationship than three smoking days. He was a player, and she should have recognized it. “But I think I’ll just grab some peanuts from the minibar. Thanks anyway.”
“Have you seen the prices for the minibar?” One blond eyebrow rose. “Those nuts will cost you eight bucks. I don’t think your captain would be happy to see that hotel bill.”
Andie scowled. He was trying to manipulate her and it pissed her off. Even if he was right. “Look, I don’t think—”
“That it would be a good idea. Yeah, I know. But we both have to eat. Why shouldn’t we do it together?” He looked so hopeful that she had a hard time thinking of a reason to refuse. “We can make it a working dinner, talk about our case.”
“Well…”
Chase stepped into the room, his shirt brushing her bare arm. He plopped down on her bed and stretched his long legs, crossing them at the ankles. He gave her a victorious smile. “I’ll wait here while you get dressed.” He looked her up and down. “Unless you want to go out in those shorts and tank top. I do like eating with a view.”
A herd of nervous cattle danced inside her stomach. His overconfidence wasn’t charming, she told herself. “You wish.” She went to her open suitcase and pulled out some jeans and a t-shirt. “But if you’re dragging me out, you’re paying.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Andie changed quickly in the bathroom and ran a brush through her hair. She resisted the urge to touch up her make-up. This was not a date.
“Okay, let’s go,” she said, shoving her feet into her distressed red Corral boots. She swung open the door and strode to the elevator, Chase’s long legs easily keeping pace with her.
They decided on a bar and grill three blocks from their hotel. He placed a large palm at the base of her back and guided her into a half-booth then slid into the chair across from her. She buried her face in the menu.
After the waitress took their order, she couldn’t avoid his gaze any longer. “So, about the case—”
“I don’t want to talk about that right now.”
She frowned. “But you said…”
“What I needed to get you out of the room.” One side of his mouth turned up at her outraged huff. He shrugged. “I was hungry. So sue me.”
She fumed silently. She hated being suckered. Even if the result was her sitting across from a smoking hot man who was paying for dinner. “You’re lucky I’ve already ordered or I would have made you pay for that with the most expensive item on the menu.”
He leaned forward, the wooden chair creaking beneath him. “There’s always dessert.” His voice was as smooth as warmed caramel, giving her some definite ideas about what she wanted for dessert.
None of them involved food.
She fiddled with her fork, tapping it against the table top. “Well, you got me out here on a pretext, but there’s no reason we shouldn’t talk about the case.”
“We’ve talked enough about our game plan for tomorrow on the flight over. I’d rather talk about you.”
“Me?” Her fork hovered an inch off the table. She swallowed hard and looked around, hoping their waitress would bring them their drinks soon.
While every nerve in her body felt exposed, Chase seemed completely in control. “Or rather, us,” he said.
“There is no ‘us.’” The words had to be forced past the constriction in her throat.
“There was.”
She sucked in a deep breath. “You remember.”
“Of course, I remember. You don’t honestly think that I could forget you.”
The waitress chose that moment to return with their drinks. When Chase’s attention flickered away to thank the woman, Andie schooled her expression and evened out her rapid breathing. Using a mental technique of visualizing herself in one of her favorite places, in a saddle on her parent’s ranch, she ordered herself to relax. He wouldn’t know the effect his words had.
The waitress left. Chase lifted his draft beer to his lips, his gaze never leaving Andie’s face. His throat rippled with each swallow and she remembered the feel of that bronzed skin beneath her fingers, her lips, her tongue.
“You sure gave a good impression of it,” she said. She was proud of how even her voice sounded. “You didn’t bat an eye when we were introduced by my captain.”
“Neither did you.” He raised his hand to ward off more of her protests. “I know you had your reasons, just like I did. But don’t ever think that I don’t remember every second we spent together in New Orleans.”
She snorted and brought her own beer to her lips, the cold brew taking some of the heat out of her rising ire.
He narrowed his eyes, the irises looking more gray than green, whether from the lighting or from his mood, she didn’t know. “Your hair was short then, like a man’s. Was the style easier for you to maintain, or were you trying to fit into the boy’s club?”
She was too surprised to answer.
Chase wasn’t waiting for one anyway. “It didn’t matter. Even with your short hair and you hiding your figure under boxy jackets, you couldn’t disguise the sexy woman underneath.” His eyes flicked down to her t-shirt.
Her breasts felt heavy, full, under his gaze. Her nipples tightened and she prayed they didn’t show beneath the thin cotton.
He looked back up, his jaw clenching. “You had a fresh scar on your lower back and you wouldn’t tell me how you got it. That pissed me off but I pretended like it didn’t.”
She shifted in her seat and took another drag from her bottle. She had forgotten that. The scar had been fresh, both physically and emotionally. An arrest that had gone south very quickly and had scared the bejeezus out of her. She’d thought about opening up that bit of herself to him back then. Her fear. Her worry that getting injured on the job would make her look weaker to her male colleagues.
She hadn’t wanted to ruin the mood, though. The sexual cocoon that encompassed them for days. And when she had called the fake number, talked to the confused man at the other end of the line who wasn’t Chase, she had been glad she had kept that part of herself closed off.
He grabbed her hand, stopping her fingers from scratching off the bottle’s label. He placed it palm down on the table, trapping it beneath his own. His voice went low and she felt it vibrate deep in her core as much as she heard it. “I remember the first time I pushed into your heat. Each moan and scream that left your mouth. I remember you begging as I held you pinned beneath me.” His eyes caged her just as firmly as his body had. “I remember every moment we spent together. Every. Fucking. Second.”
She didn’t want to, but she slid her hand from his and leaned back as far as the bench seat woul
d allow. It was too easy falling under this man’s spell. “Then why did you lie to me, give me a fake number?” She examined his face, looking for any tells, micro-expressions that would expose the truth of his behavior.
He gave nothing away.
“I wasn’t expecting a marriage proposal after one fling, for Christ’s sake. But honesty would have been nice. If you didn’t want to talk to me again, you should have just said so.”
A muscle pulsed in his jaw. “My life was…complicated. I thought it would be for the best, for both of us, if we left it at just that memorable weekend.”
“You should have just said that.”
The waitress lowered their plates of food to the table, interrupting the tension between them. Andie bit into her Cajun chicken sandwich, tearing off a large bite, and stared at the red exit sign instead of the man across from her. The faster she ate, the sooner she could be back in her hotel room. She took another large bite, then swallowed the food wrong when Chase said, “You’re right.”
She coughed and reached for her beer. He scooted his chair kitty-corner to her and pounded on her back until she could breathe normally again. He rubbed his hand soothingly from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, and Andie resisted the urge to relax into his touch. She drained her bottle then took a couple deep breaths. Finally, she turned to look at him.
He was much too close. Not wanting to look him in the eye yet, she focused on his tanned throat. It sounded weird, but she’d loved that part of him. The way the muscles in his neck pulled tight when he was close to coming. The way his skin tasted beneath his ear when she bit him as she came.
Something was wrong with her for getting turned on by a man’s neck, and she needed to lock it down. Her gaze swept up to his stubbled chin, his strong nose. Her stomach clenching, she forced herself to meet his eyes, deep pools of muddy green.
His thigh bumped against hers. She laid her hand on it and felt the muscles flex under her touch.
He sucked in a sharp breath. “Andrea…”
Her fingernails scratched along his khakis. “When I met you, I wanted to be called Andrea because I thought it sounded more professional. The same with the short hair, the frumpy suits. But I haven’t gone by Andrea in a coon’s age. I was raised Andie and except for that minor aberration when I first went into law enforcement, I’ll always be Andie.”
“‘In a coon’s age,’ huh?” He skimmed his hand up to the back of her neck and kneaded the back of her skull.
A soft sigh slipped past her lips. She was a sucker for a good head massage.
“Have I told you how sexy your country proverbs are? Andrea was one hot number, but I think I like Andie even better. She’s more comfortable in her own skin.” His thumb brushed the sensitive upper rim of her ear, and a shiver danced down her spine. “What changed?”
“I realized I was more focused on looking like I was capable of doing the job than actually doing the job well. So I stopped caring about the trappings and decided to not waste energy on trying to fit in. And like my grandpappy used to tell me, when you know who you are and what you want, then life is as easy as sliding off a greased log backwards.”
“I don’t suppose your grandpappy is still alive? I would love to meet this fount of wisdom.”
“No. He joined Grams in heaven fifteen years ago.” She trailed her hand a little further up his thigh and stopped when her fingers met a hard bulge. Her core clenched, feeling empty, and even though she knew she shouldn’t, she flattened her palm over him and felt him throb.
Chase pulled his plate in front of him and nudged hers. “Eat fast.”
“Why?”
He picked up one of her fries and placed it at her lips. “Because my grandfather used to say that life was short. Live every minute you can. Once we’re done with dinner, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”
Chapter Four
An instrumental version of I Wanna Sex You Up by Color Me Badd drifted tinnily down from the elevator’s speakers. The door slid open one floor below theirs and a woman got off, leaving them alone in the car. Andie chewed on her bottom lip to stop her nervous laughter and kept her eyes forward as the metal doors silently closed.
Heat crept up behind her. Chase’s lips pressed softly against the back of her neck. “Something amusing you?” he asked.
“Just the timing of this song. I can’t believe it was made into elevator music.” Her voice came out higher pitched than normal, and Andie struggled to maintain her cool. It was just sex. If her memory was anything to go by, it would be really, really good sex, but she didn’t have to make more out of it than there was. She would remain unaffected.
The lips at her nape curved in a smile, eliciting a tug from deep inside of her. Chase wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back snug against his front. “Relax, babe. It’s just the universe providing a little mood music.”
He trailed his tongue down the side of her neck, and she tilted her head, giving him better access. Her eyelids drifted shut just as the doors opened on their floor. It was a toss-up as to whether Chase dragged or carried her from the elevator but it wasn’t until they were halfway to their rooms that her feet stood solidly on the hallway carpeting.
They were alone, and she couldn’t wait one more second to taste him. She drew to a halt and when he opened his mouth to protest, she took advantage.
She twined her fingers through his golden mane and dragged his head down to hers. Their mouths crashed together and she swallowed his grunt of surprise.
His hesitation lasted only a second. He cupped her head, his large hands fully surrounding it. He spun them around, their kiss never breaking, and pressed her against the wall. He thrust his tongue in and out of her mouth, mating with hers and drawing a moan from deep within her chest.
Beneath the barbecue and beer lay Chase’s flavor. Something salty and wild. It was like those four years apart had never happened. Her body remembered everything about his.
Something hard and long pressed against her stomach, and she remembered that too. Her shoulder blades tensed against the wall. Chase was a big man, easily dwarfing her not inconsiderable height. And he was delightfully proportional. But it had been four years since she’d had sex, not that she’d ever let Chase know that she hadn’t been with a man since him. That embarrassing information would remain top secret.
“You’re thinking too much,” he muttered in between kisses. He gripped her thighs and dragged her up the wall until she was of a level to wrap her legs around his waist. The fly of his pants rubbed against her core, turning her insides to jelly.
She let her head fall back to the wall and enjoyed the friction, the mounting heat. He was right. Thinking was overrated.
A door opened at the end of the hall, and Andie tried to squirm down from her perch.
He nipped at her lip and grasped her legs more firmly to his hips. “Nope,” he said as he started walking to their rooms, nibbling her jawbone from her ear to her chin.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, her heart pounding against his. “But he can see us,” she whispered.
“Don’t care.”
He pressed her against his door and fumbled for his key.
She reached into her back pocket and slid out a piece of plastic. “Go to my room. I’ve got my key.”
“Mine’s closer.”
She rolled her eyes. “By five feet.”
He merely grunted in response and finally shoved his door open. She felt air swish around her back before the hard wall of his room pressed against her shoulder blades. He claimed her lips and ground his pelvis into hers until she drew away with a shudder.
Her body was on fire and only one thing would put out the flames. “Please,” she whimpered.
Still balanced on his narrow hips, she shimmied out of her shirt then helped him tug his own over his head. She sucked in a deep breath. Her eyes darted over the broad expanse of his lightly furred chest, her fingers quickly followin
g.
Each ridge of muscle flickered under her feather-light touch. When she dragged her nails over his flat nipples, he dropped his head back and groaned. She trailed her hand down to his defined abdomen, finding that trail of hair that led below his waistband.
He was almost too beautiful. Her very own golden god.
No, not hers. Only hers for tonight or for as long as Chase was in town. A casual encounter, nothing more.
But she was damn well going to make the most of it. She wound her arms around his neck and took his mouth, suckling his tongue. Separating to catch her breath, she bit down on his lower lip before claiming his kiss once more. “Bed,” she told him.
He followed orders well, cradling her ass in his large palms while taking them to the king-sized bed that filled most of the room. Two steps and they were there, tumbling onto the soft duvet. The crisp cotton at her back contrasted deliciously with the heat and strength of Chase’s chest pressing down on her front.
She arched against him, grinding her pelvis to his, trying to get as close as possible. Through his pants and hers, she could feel his cock throb in response.
“Wait,” he muttered. Andie ignored him and licked his neck, feeling his pulse flutter under her tongue, tasting the salt of his skin. She clamped her legs more firmly around his hips and she arched again.
She felt so empty without him inside of her.
The growl vibrated from his chest into hers. He dragged her arms from around his upper back and pressed them into the mattress, intertwining his fingers with hers, stopping her from touching him. He lifted his torso, and she immediately missed his warmth. “I said, wait.” His eyes darkened like the Rio Grande during a storm. “It’s been four years. I’m not going to rush through this now. We’re going to take our time.”
“But,” she whined, squirming beneath him, “it’s been four years. I don’t want to wait.”
