by Meli Raine
An enormous, earth-shattering sound pours out of Chase like he’s burping the entire alphabet.
Oh. My. God.
He is burping the entire alphabet. His voice stops at J, though. He shrugs.
We convulse into a pile of arms and legs and aching ribs as we laugh hysterically.
Man, I sure do love beer. Why didn’t I drink beer before? It would have made home a lot more fun.
“I think three’s your limit, little girl,” Chase says, moving my now-empty bottle to the end table.
“I’m not a little girl,” I protest. His hand slides up the inside seam of my thigh and my breath catches in my throat. The fire burning on my skin flames up a bit more.
“No, Allie,” he says in a voice filled with lust. “You definitely are not.”
Marissa looks up abruptly from her phone and says, “Get a room, you two.”
As I breathe in, my breasts push against my t-shirt. My nipples brush against the tight fabric of my bra, and I remember that we were in the ocean just hours ago, wet and salty. My calves feel tight and I wonder if I should take a shower before we—
Chase’s mouth is on me so fast I feel his tongue caressing my teeth before my mind can catch up to the fact that he’s touching me. The push of his fingers in my hair, light against the back of my next, makes me melt into him.
“Seriously,” Marissa mutters. “You have a room. Need a map?”
Chase breaks the kiss with a murmured “sorry” and stands slowly, taking his time. I see why.
I literally see why. Oh, my.
He extends a hand to me and I stand. The room spins a little. Just enough to be charming and amusing.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Marissa says, eyes still on her screen. It weirds me out for a second because she’s always been so protective of me. Now she’s encouraging me to go in another room and have sex with a guy she was just arguing with an hour ago.
The magnetic pull of Chase’s entire being cancels her out. He’s heat and light, all gravity to my mass. I’m falling into him and I can’t break away.
I don’t want to break away from him. He’s my destination. My home.
My asylum. In his arms I’m safe and free.
His arm encircles my waist and we walk, in tandem, to the room where we’ll spend the next few hours learning exactly how free we really are.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The door closes as Chase pulls it tight. The click of the lock as his fingers turn it feels like some other lock inside me is unlatched and opened. The great mystery of who I am is about to be revealed.
One kiss at a time.
I’ve never seen a man look at me like this before. Men have given me hungry looks. They’ve undressed me with their eyes. They’ve glared at me for denying them. I’ve even had men give me kissy faces, as if that’s going to make me suddenly want to sleep with them.
All those eyes on me at Jeff’s bar. On the street in my hometown. At the grocery store, the library, even high school. Not a single pair of eyes held what Chase has in his.
Love. But something more than love.
Pure need.
He can’t live without me. He can’t stand to spend one more second not touching me. His eyes tell me so.
And his hands are about to explain all the details.
I am afraid. Not scared. Not terrified. Not anxious—afraid. Afraid to fall a little too deeply for him. Afraid to like what we’re about to do a little too much. Afraid to believe that any of this is real.
Afraid to hand him the key to my heart and have him run off with it.
The problem with being afraid is that you never get to live. The fear traps you and keeps you caged. Your own mind is your warden.
I thought Jeff was my warden. All these years. I thought he was the reason I couldn’t live my real life.
Turns out it was me.
Chase’s hand is so hot it burns against my elbow as he strokes my arm. I could spend the next eighty years memorizing the lines of his face. How the skin around his cheeks folds like it understands. The way his lips go soft with yearning as his eyes trace my jaw line.
The scent of our want hovers between us in this strange little room. He moves, closing the gap, our hips pressed together, the fold of his t-shirt embedded against my navel. As he bends down to kiss me I smell the road, the past, the future and then I taste it. His lips are sweet and hard, telling me everything I need to know.
He captures my lower lip between both of his and licks lightly. It hurts a little from my cut, but he’s so gentle. Then Chase opens his mouth, tongue finding mine. My hands know what to do now, and I tug at the hem of his shirt, pulling it out from the waistband of his jeans. Oh, the skin is taut and fine, hot and ready. His lower back tucks in, curving away from my seeking palm.
Pushing harder into my core.
His erection is enormous, straining against the fly of his jeans. A car horn honks in the distance, loud and insistent, and as his fingers play with my earlobe I hear voices shouting at each other. Not the most romantic environment, but I don’t care.
He pulls back, breathless. The hush of each breath is strong, insistent, demanding. He turns away and searches the room, determined. His arm reaches for a small radio and within seconds he finds a jazz station, the slow, eerie tones like passion and mystery being poured in liquid form into the room.
Some part of me turns warm and wet, all flow and perfection. I feel like my blood has taken on the job of pulsing through me to spread pleasure. Chase’s touch is the trigger, and now those gentle, searching hands are more commanding. His palms cup my ass and pull me up, telling me to wrap my legs around him. I follow instinct and do it, his hard shaft pressing against the part of me that aches for him most.
He can’t be gentle. Can’t be tender. His hands fly across my back, the hooks of my bra undone and my shirt pushed up as he balances, dropping to one knee and then pushing me down on the bed. The music fades and we’re fire and ice. Hot and cold. His mouth is on my nipple and I arch up, begging, calling his name in a hurried gasp.
“More,” I whisper as he looks at me, dark and serious. I pull off my shirt and bra and reach for his shirt, yanking it up, pulling him to me. I need all of our skin to touch. Every inch. Every pore. Every stroke.
Every single breath needs to be shared. My breasts push up against his pecs, tickled by the chest hair, and everything is so immediate. He’s kissing my neck, my shoulder, my nipples, my ribs, and his hands are everywhere. I’ve become nothing but sensation.
“I could lose myself in you,” he murmurs against my navel, his hands unbuttoning my jeans. “Sink into you, Allie, and lose the world. I think I’d find myself, though. I’d be willing to give up everything I know if it means being with you. You’re the only place I want to be.”
I hear him. I do. Those words are electric and I want him to say the rest. I want him to speak to my soul.
But I feel him more.
He slips those strong hands under my ass, thumbs looped into my jeans, and he tugs hard—fast and furious—the pants around my knees, then gliding down, down, down over my ankles.
He’s pulled my panties off, too.
I’m completely naked before him, lying on top of the futon’s quilt, the lights still on in the room. My own skin tightens, quivering with goosebumps as he strips naked and joins me. His body is so chiseled. The tattoos I traced when we were alone in his desert shack are like old friends I haven’t seen in forever. My fingers itch to touch him and I do. I take the liberty of assuming he’s mine to touch now.
And I’m his. Forever.
My skin feels so soft next to his, so pale and creamy, even with the bandages marring it. Chase makes me feel small and delicate, yet strong and capable. In the darkened room I can feel electricity flow between us, see the air that separates us shimmer. We’re liquid energy, hot flesh, and we burn for each other.
He sits up, resting on his knees, the power of his body forcing me to take him in. Broad shoulde
rs covered with the Atlas club tattoo and the dragon tattoo. His chest is wide and muscled, the rolling hills of finely-honed power hugging his bones like a textured playground for my eyes.
I could look at him forever and still not get enough.
He gives me a cocky smile and runs both hands from my hips up to cup my breasts. “You know, if you weren’t a virgin, El Brujo might not want you.”
That feels like a bucket of ice water on my naked body. I stop breathing for a second, the push of air against my throat somehow soothing. Like if I start breathing again, I have to face it.
Finally, I find my voice. It was buried under my desire, which shrinks a little. I don’t want it to fade. I don’t want this to feel weird. But it starts to.
“That is the lamest pick-up line any man has ever said to me,” I joke. Inside, though, I’m starting to feel pinpricks of anxiety. Why is he talking about El Brujo? Way to kill the mood.
“But the truest, right?” His eyebrows twitch down. He doesn’t quite frown, but he’s thinking hard. He drags his thigh against mine as he climbs up to kiss me. His lips are soft and oh...oh.
I guess the truth can be amazingly true sometimes, huh?
I swallow, hard, and try to clear my head. Easier said than done when six feet of pure sexual perfection is stretched out over you. All that desire blooms again. And yet...
“Let me get this straight. You’re offering to sleep with me right now to save me from being sold off?” I clarify. I’m trying to be flippant but the words get stuck in my throat and shake.
“If you’re not a virgin, El Brujo won’t want you.” Oh, boy, he’s serious. His eyes are focused and calculating, and filled with a healthy dose of lust.
I give him a look dripping with sarcasm and sit up. Suddenly, I don’t want to be naked. And yet I did, just one minute ago. Before Chase started talking about this.
“And you’re willing to make that kind of sacrifice? Sleep with me so I’m spoiled goods?” I ask. I feel like we’re walking on broken glass. No one is bleeding yet, but that’s only because we’re being so careful.
He shrugs, like he’s being humble. “If that’s my way of giving back to humanity, then I’m willing to do the dirty work.”
How dirty?
His eyebrow cocks up. Damn it. I said that aloud, didn’t I? I laugh, the sound deep and smoky, shocking me. I don’t sound like this. I don’t banter like this.
And certainly not while I’m spread out, naked, underneath a magnetically charming man like Chase.
“I’ve upset you,” he declares, eyes narrowing. He runs a ragged hand through his golden hair. “Jesus, Allie, I’m sorry. I just got nervous and my mind started to race. All that shit about El Brujo, about what Jeff was planning to do to you...it’s mixing in my mind and blood and damn it.” He tightens his fists, pulling fabric from the quilt into his hands. Each time he inhales the hard lines of his chest grow, then recede as he lets out frustrated breaths.
“It’s okay,” I soothe. My eyes can’t stop eating him up. He’s hypnotizing me with his skin.
“No, it’s not.” His voice is shaking with rage. “That animal was planning to use you to pay off a debt. He had no problem with handing your entire body and soul off to a guy who would torture you.” The last two words come out in a choke.
Oh, the mood is definitely killed now.
“Chase. Chase,” I say urgently, grabbing his hand. My breasts bob as I move closer to him and it feels so natural to be naked with him. To move and talk and engage in being human. Not just sexual—we’re two bodies that need to communicate.
He looks at me with such piercing intensity that I nearly melt into the bed. “I am fine, thanks to you,” I say. His shoulders relax. “I’m better than fine. I’m whole. Real. Raw and ready for whatever the future brings us.” His thumb caresses the web of my hand and that melting feeling becomes a white-hot heat.
Between my legs.
“You did that, Chase. You learned the truth about what Jeff was going to do with me. You came and got me out of there. You brought me here to see my sister and to help me decide what to do next.” His eyes turn darker, like burned sugar.
I feel shy, but say the next part anyhow. “You told me you want to live together. Here. In L.A. You want to be together so we can pursue our paths.”
He draws up on his knees and pulls me up, too. Our bellies touch.
“You make me feel loved, Chase,” I gasp, emotion filling my eyes, my veins, my mind. I can’t contain it. It’s too big. “No one other than my mom and Marissa has ever made me feel loved. And not this much. Only you.”
He reaches down and wipes an escaped tear from my cheek. “Allie,” he says, the feeling in his voice loud and clear.
“Only you,” I repeat as he bends down to kiss me, making the world spin. His hands and lips are gentle again, though the hard thrust of his erection is already there, pinned between our abs as we embrace.
“El Brujo?” he croaks out. “When Frenchie and Dad sat there and described exactly what your stepfather had planned for you, I couldn’t stand to listen. They acted like it was a done deal. Like you were just part of a—a—a transaction.” He spits the final word out like it’s a mouth full of broken teeth.
A mewling sound comes from the back of my throat. The reality of what Jeff nearly did to me sinks in. “He’s a sick pig, Chase. But you stopped him.”
“Did I? How do we know?” Something’s haunting Chase. He frowns and I pull back, running my fingers over the folded skin of his brow.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” I whisper, kissing his forehead. He keeps his head down.
“For now,” he adds.
“Forever,” I insist, slipping my hand under his jaw and making him kiss me. I’m bold now. I want him to understand that this is mutual. I want Chase as much as he wants me. All the beer we drank earlier is long gone, and suddenly I need to use the bathroom.
Losing my virginity is turning out to be so much harder than I ever imagined.
CHAPTER TWELVE
He looks around the room as if he’s seeing it for the first time. Then his eyes comb over my naked body and his own. Chase makes a funny little sound of laughter. “You’re going to think I’m crazy, Allie, but I have a thought.”
“What?”
“Let’s get out of here.”
A profound cloud of disappointment covers my body. “You want to leave?” What I should say is, You want to stop being naked? but I don’t have the guts to blurt it out.
“I want to take you back to the beach,” he declares, kissing my nipple with a zing that makes a thrill shoot through me. Chase stands and throws on his jeans and shirt. I notice he doesn’t add his boxer briefs. Hmm. Commando on a motorcycle?
He’s braver than I thought.
“The beach?” I squeak. “Now?” I look at the alarm clock in the room. Twelve thirty-nine a.m.
“Now.” He grabs a ratty-looking blanket from the corner and nods toward my pile of clothes. “Get dressed,” he orders.
I am so confused. Does he want to sleep with me or not? I stand up and march right to him, standing on tip-toe. My mouth slams into his, hot and angry. I do not understand this man but I do know one thing:
We’re not leaving this room.
All my shyness is gone, my bare skin scratching against the rough denim cloth of his jeans. Chase’s chest swells as my palms caress him under his shirt. I slide my fingers up to the nape of his neck, my nipples pushing against the thin cloth of his shirt.
My bare belly snags against the fly of his jeans.
“Mmmm,” he says against my mouth, and as my hand moves down, down, down, that sound he makes is louder.
“We’re not,” I hiss in his ear, “going anywhere.”
“The beach. Moonlight. You, naked and spread out under the stars, with the waves crashing in the distance,” he says in a voice that’s half growl, half lust.
“Next time,” I tell him as my fingers unbutton his jeans and slide them down his
hips. I want him so much, El Brujo be damned. But I’m not letting Chase, or Jeff, or some Mexican drug lord decide what’s right for me. We’ll take this breath by breath, kiss by kiss, touch by touch right now.
First things first. Chase is way overdressed for what’s about to happen.
Oh—there. In three seconds he’s naked again.
Perfect.
I’m not quite sure how it happens, but I’m on my back on the futon and Chase’s hot breath tickles my inner thighs, his warm lips so close to my aching skin. The soft, pink flesh of my sexual core begins to throb, the way made wet by my own longing.
“I’m the one in charge, Allie,” he murmurs against my leg. His words comes out like soft vibrations, like fingers that find the frets of my skin. “You want me? I’m here. You want to touch me? Too bad,” he says in a low voice. “My turn first. I’m in control. And you need to just lie back and let go.”
“But I—”
His voice has an edge to it as his palm flattens against my belly, snaking up my body to twirl one nipple with his rough fingertips.
“No arguments. You want me. I want you. Last time I gave you all the control. This time, Allie, I’m taking it.” And with that his tongue dips into the valley where every flicker, every movement, every lush lick is like being driven into the divine.
My hands find his hair. A deep breath that is supposed to give me strength cuts off abruptly as his tender touch turns hard and sultry. His intent is clear. Chase will give me pleasure, whether I want it or not.
We’ve shifted somehow from innocent exploration to determined erotic space. I’m ready, body eager and exploding, blood racing through me, all with Chase’s name in each cell. As his fingers play with my breasts and his tongue and lips stroke and tease, I feel like hundreds of thousands of separate pieces of flesh being forged together.
He slides one finger into me and I clench, surprised by the sensation. It twins with his tongue and makes the blood rush into my head like a tidal wave. Then it rushes back out, leaving me dizzy. Everything smells like us. Chase’s road scent, my own sweat, the musk of our naked skin, the scent of what he’s evoking in me.
