Undeniable (Always Book 3)

by Lexxie Couper

  She laughed some more. “I felt you all the way to my core.”

  My groin thought that statement pretty fucking awesome.

  Climbing from the carriage, we made our way from the ride, back into the fray of park goers. Day had quickly turned into evening, and my body and mind were doing three things.

  One – telling me I hadn’t slept since 2011.

  Two – reminding me I hadn’t eaten since roughly the same year.

  Three – suggesting to me if Chase and I found a motel room now, the chances of us ending up naked and sweaty were very, very high.

  Body thrumming, and not because of Space Mountain, I took her hand in mine and gave her fingers a squeeze.

  “I think we should get something to eat,” I said when she looked at me.

  Not what you were expecting? Hey, I might be a guy, but I’m also a nice guy. Got it?

  Chase nodded.

  We decided on hot dogs. Followed by churros. And a bucketful of soda. And then more ice cream. One of the advantages of being young and fit: you can eat a shitload of crap and it won’t come back and bite you on the arse ’til you’re at least forty.

  We were finishing our ice cream when Chase’s mobile buzzed in her back pocket. She took it out, looked at the screen with a frown and then showed it to me. “This make any sense to you?”

  The screen glowed with a text from an American number I didn’t recognize. The message I understood without any problems.

  BUN test results good. CNS undamaged. CFS analysis good. Hbg levels excellent. Dog recovery progressing well. Talk tomorrow. Dr. Adams

  There were a lot of acronyms and abbreviations in the text, a lot of veterinarian jargon, but the long and short of it was, Doofus was doing well.

  “What is it?”

  I smiled at Chase. “I think he’s going to be okay.”

  “Doofus?”

  I nodded.

  “Awesome,” she cried, wrapping her arms around me to give me a tight hug that also incorporated a little dance. “That is awesome.”

  I still don’t know how I avoided not wearing her ice cream.

  What I do know is, when she pulled back to smile up at me, I leaned in to kiss her. As with every kiss I’d initiated with Chase – in fact, as with damn near everything I did regarding Chase – there was no conscious decision, there was only instinctual, gut action. I kissed her, tasting peanut butter chocolate-chip ice cream on her lips. I kissed her, holding her as close to me as I could, one hand flat to the small of her back, the other holding my ice cream, which was most likely melting down her back by now.

  I kissed her, and she kissed me back, the nutty sweetness of her mouth nothing compared to the deliciousness of her tongue sliding over mine, or the feel of her body pressed to mine, her hips, her thighs, her sex, all aligned to mine with a perfection every molecule in my existence recognized and celebrated.

  My head roared. My heart pounded. My dick did what dicks do when a guy is being kissed by the girl he’s completely head over fucking heels about. For a split second I feared Chase was going to pull away from me – there was no way she could not have felt the fierce spasm that made it jerk in my jeans. Instead, I felt a low moan vibrate in her chest before she deepened the kiss.

  The world erupted in fireworks: loud explosions that shuddered right through me. As much as I’d like to say I was being metaphorical, literally the night was suddenly filled with fireworks.

  We pulled away from the kiss, still holding each other as we gaped up at the dark sky. Bright colors of pyro-technic mastery detonated above us in a display that left the Melbourne New Year’s Eve fireworks for dead. Around us, our fellow park attendees oohed and aahed. Chase’s arms snaked up around my neck and I lowered my gaze from the fireworks to her face, loving the way the colors exploding in the sky cast her face in the same hues.

  Fuck me, I was completely lost to her.

  My throat tight, I drew her closer to me, a pain in my chest I couldn’t fathom. We stood that way for what felt like forever, and at the same time barely a heartbeat. When she turned her gaze to me, when I saw the happiness in her eyes, I could do nothing else but drag in a shaky breath and smile at her.

  She held my stare. We didn’t move. I thought I felt her phone vibrate in her hip pocket, but if it did, she didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, very slowly, she rose up onto tiptoe and pressed her cheek to mine. “I think it’s time we found ourselves a motel room.”

  Her statement sent thick ropes of tension through me. Her warm breath on my ear did the same. The feel of her breasts against my chest twisted those ropes into exquisite knots.

  I swallowed. And then nodded.

  Her phone vibrated again in her pocket, but again she ignored it.

  Something itched at the back of my head, like an idea wanting to be heard, and then Chase took my fingers in hers and nothing else mattered to me but walking with her, hand in hand, out of Disneyland. We didn’t speak until we were out of the park. There was no point. The noise was overwhelming even for my ears, and to be honest, there was nothing to be said. We knew what we were going to do. What did we need to talk about?

  I let Chase take the lead as the crowd around us began to thin. Instead of turning right toward the car parking area where the Speeding Dragon sat waiting for us, she turned left. Still holding hands, still wordless, we walked along the sidewalk of a strip of tourist shops and chain restaurants and motels. Chase pulled on my hand and turned up a footpath leading to a motel with a neon palm tree for a sign. The knotted ropes in my stomach twisted tighter. The Vacancy sign glowed green fluorescent at us as Chase pressed her palm to the door and pushed it open.

  Ten minutes later, we were in our room. It was cozy, clean, and completely generic in every way. In the middle of it, was a queen size bed.

  I stared at it. Took in its multi-colored, abstract-patterned spread, its matching pillows and cushions. The soft thud behind me of the door closing made me jump.

  Jesus, I was a nervous wreck.

  Swallowing again at the lump in my throat that didn’t seem to want to bloody well bugger off, I turned to Chase. She stood with her back pressed to the door, watching me. My gut clenched. My groin throbbed.

  Her phone rang in her pocket.

  Without breaking eye contact with me, she withdrew the phone, silenced the ringing and shoved it back into her pocket. It hit me who was so desperately trying to reach her. Who was expecting her at his place at nine . . .

  And then Chase was no longer leaning against the door. Chase was closing the distance between us. Chase was pressing her body to mine, her hands smoothing up my chest, over my shoulders, into the hair at the back of my head.

  Chase was kissing me, and I was kissing her back. And Donald the Dude could go fuck his ear.

  I know I’ve spent quite a bit of time telling you what a nice guy I am, and I stand by that claim, but at that point the nice guy had stepped aside for the horny, hungry, possessive guy who ached for Chase with every fucking fiber in his body.

  I kissed her, my tongue lashing over hers, my teeth nipping at her lip, and tore at her clothes, desperate to have them gone. The only thing allowed on her body was my hands. No, not just my hands. My hands, my mouth, my tongue . . .

  I think I tore Chase’s shirt as I yanked it down over her shoulders, but given she was damn near ripping apart the zipper of my fly, I think we were even. The second her shirt was free of her body, I dragged my lips free of hers and moved them to her breast. I didn’t wait to remove her bra. I captured the hard point of her nipple through the dark-purple satin and sucked.

  “Oh God,” she cried out, scoring her blunt nails over my scalp.

  I moved to the other breast, this time allowing myself the torment of a few seconds to tug the satin aside, before claiming her tight nipple with my mouth.

  “Holy crap,” she burst out, clawing at the back of my shoulders.

  Pain and pleasure laced through me, sinking into my balls. I drew on her flesh again, c
oncentrated pleasure flowing through me at the feel of it in my mouth, between my teeth, against my tongue.

  I don’t know when I dropped to my knees, nor do I know when I peeled Chase’s shorts and underpants from her. I was enveloped in a cloud of desire, an inferno of need. I’d been reduced to a creature of base function: to make her mine. To taste her, make her erupt in pleasure, to make her cry out my name as I made her come over and over.

  The second my tongue swiped over the warm flesh between her thighs I lost any other reason for existing. Parting her with my thumbs, I found what I sought, and laved it with the tip of my tongue, my head spinning with the intoxicating taste and smell of her arousal.

  Her fingers combed and fisted at my hair. My name fell from her over and over in rasping pants.

  “Holy crap, Caden,” she moaned.

  I can’t tell you how hard I got, how fucking stiff and excited, at the sound of my name uttered with such pleasure. I continued to worship her sex, greedy for the taste of her on my tongue and the sound of her in my ears. She rolled her hips into my swipes, her breath growing faster, shallower. Her thighs trembled against either side of my head.

  “Caden,” she panted. “Caden, I’m going to . . .”

  I stopped, scooped her up in my arms and turned to the bed. She laughed with wicked joy as I tossed her onto it.

  “Beat your chest, caveman,” she ordered, grinning up at me.

  I did so, hard enough to make myself cough. Chase laughed, the wonderful sound turning to fresh groans as I joined her on the bed, kneeling between her ankles to shove her thighs wide and resume my exploration of her sweet sex.

  She moaned my name again, her heels digging into the duvet, her hips thrusting upward. I took advantage of the change in her position to cup her arse, squeezing each cheek as I delved into her wet heat with my tongue.

  “Goddamn you, Caden,” she growled. “I didn’t expect you to be this . . . this . . .”

  I nipped at her flesh with my teeth. She bucked, hips ramming upward, her cry raw with pleasure. And then she was coming. Her release flowed from her and I reveled in it, licking its warmth from her flesh, feasting on it.

  It was her shaky, weak laughter that made me stop. With one last gentle stroke of my tongue over her sex, I lifted my head from between her thighs to watch the aftermath of her orgasm linger on her face.

  Beautiful. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

  Wow, she signed, eyes closed, breath nothing more than ragged pants. I wriggled onto the bed beside her, my heart wild. My cock throbbed and pulsed, its engorged length jutting free of my open fly. I gave it a quick glance.

  “Proud of yourself?”

  Cheek resting on my bicep, I grinned up at her. “Hell yeah.”

  She laughed. I loved the sound of it.

  From the floor, her mobile rang its extra-loud ring. I couldn’t help myself. I rolled my eyes. “He’s determined. I’ll give him that.”

  Chase pulled a face. I waited for her to say something else. She didn’t, she just let out a wobbly breath.

  My cock throbbed and pulsed, impatient for attention. I ignored the damn thing. As horny as I was, I was enjoying the moment of being with Chase in her post-climax languor more. And also, to be bluntly honest, feeling very smug with myself about the fact that while Donald the Dude was trying to call her I was making her come.

  Yes, I’m very much a twenty-three-year-old guy. We are essentially walking, talking, testosterone-fuelled egos eighty percent of the time.

  When her phone fell silent, she let out another breath. I wriggled my way up beside her, making sure my cock didn’t nudge or whack into her thigh as I did.

  She rolled her head to the side when I was eye-level with her, her smile small but warm. “That was the most incredible orgasm I’ve ever had,” she said.

  I grinned. “Imagine what I can do when I’m not jetlagged.”

  She sniggered, a very naughty, very devilish snarky sound. “Imagine.”

  The urge to lean toward her and kiss her swept through me. Her lips were right there, so close to mine. Her eyes shone with a question and a promise that made my already hard dick harder. Her fingers were tracing a slow path up the outside of my thigh, getting dangerously close to said dick.

  I pulled back and shuffled off the bed. The fact my open jeans were hanging low on my hips and my erection kept whacking about, slapping my stomach and hitching on the zip of my fly made the whole move far from elegant and graceful. I must have looked like an un-co idiot. The thing is, I wanted to kiss Chase so much it hurt, but my lips and tongue and mouth had been between her legs. I wouldn’t want the taste of my release fed to me, so why would Chase?

  Finally on my feet, I grabbed the waistband of my jeans and pulled them up so they weren’t falling off me. “I’ll be right back. Just going to freshen up before I rock your world with more of my amazing skills.”

  She burst out laughing. “Okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Do you have any idea how good those words were to hear? It took me exactly eight seconds to rinse my mouth and splash water over my lips and chin. I scratched my fingers into my beard and then splashed more water on my face. On the ninth second – yes, I counted them – I emerged from the bathroom.

  And froze.

  Chase was completely naked on the bed, stretched on her side, waiting for me. My breath caught in my throat. She was beautiful. So beautiful.

  “Cat got your tongue?” she asked, lips curling.

  I shook my head.

  “Get over here.”

  I took two steps, and then froze again. “Shit.” The profanity burst from me in a sharp breath. “Shit shit shit,” I repeated, scrunching up my face this time.

  “Errr . . . what’s going on?”

  I opened my eyes and met her confused stare with a sheepish grin. “My condoms are in the Speeding Dragon.”

  She studied me, her expression impossible to decipher. “You think we’re at the condom stage of the relationship, Caden O’Dae?”

  I blinked. A hot ball of something horrible roiled in my stomach.

  “Well?”

  I didn’t move. The ball in my stomach grew to a boulder.

  And then she grinned. “Gotcha.”

  The air gushed from me in a whoosh. I think my ramrod stiff cock even wilted for half a second. “Bloody hell, Chase,” I protested, rubbing at my stomach. “Don’t do that to a guy.”

  She laughed. And then scrambled from the bed. “Poor Cadey,” she soothed with snarky delight as she stalked toward me.

  “Poor Cadey is correct.” I dropped a look to my groin and then back up to her face. “We almost had a heart attack.”

  She rolled her eyes, slid her arms around my waist and did that incredibly sexy rise-up-onto-her-tiptoes thing where her body slides against mine, before capturing my bottom lip with her teeth and giving it a little nip.

  I couldn’t help but groan.

  She eluded my attempt to snag her into a tight hug, however, skipping backward, her eyes dancing. “Take a load off, O’Dae,” she said before spinning around to show me her back and butt. It was equally as exquisite as her front, I have to say, especially with the sexy little tattoo of a pizza-eating Buddha above her right cheek. “I’ll go buy some.”

  The ball in my stomach turned to liquid, impatient steel in my groin.

  She scooped up her shorts and slipped them on – sans undies, oh man – and then pulled her shirt over her head – sans bra, double oh man. “I’ll be back,” she said, raking her nails through her spikey aqua-blue hair. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I answered, grinning at her as I made a big show of stripping off my jeans.

  She rolled her eyes and grinned back.

  “Course you aren’t.” She adjusted her shirt and slipped her feet into her sneakers. “Your passport is in the Speeding Dragon.”

  And with that she left, a spring in her step and a grin on her face.

  I studied th
e closed door for a moment, and then lowered my attention to my groin again. “Stay.”

  My cock pulsed.

  With a grunt, I finished removing my jeans, kicked them across the room and then crossed to the bed. I dropped onto it and let out a shaky sigh, slumping backward and threading my fingers behind my head.

  My heart was racing. My head whirled. I stared at the ceiling, my eyes darting around the white expanse like excited insects.

  Chase and I . . . Chase and I were finally going to . . . finally going to . . .

  Her phone rang.

  I jolted upright, looking around the room.

  There. Still on the floor. She hadn’t taken it with her.

  For a moment, I stayed motionless, listening to Pink sing ‘Walk of Shame’. A heavy pressure squeezed my chest. Was it Donald the Dude? Likely, given the time he’d expected Chase to be at his place had long gone. Should I answer it? And if I did, what would I say? What would he say?

  The phone fell silent before I made a decision.

  I studied it, the pressure on my chest growing heavier. I imagined the man sitting at a dining table with burned-down candle stumps, glaring at his phone and tapping his feet.

  I grinned. And then startled when Chase’s phone began ringing again. Same song.

  Heart wild, gut knotting, I scrambled off the bed and hurriedly picked it up, swiping my thumb over its screen to connect the call.

  “G’day,” I said into the phone with as much Australian larrikin charm as I could. “Chase Sinclair’s phone.”

  Silence answered my greeting.

  My gut knotted some more. I could go two ways here: I could tell Donald the Dude to back the fuck up, that Chase wasn’t his any more, or I could be the better man and play it cool.

  “Is Chase there?” Donald asked. His tone screamed I-am-trying-to-be-suave-about-this.

  “No, sorry,” I answered. “She’s out. I’ll let her know you called – it’s Douglas, right? – but we’re going to be pretty busy when she gets back.”

  The click in my ear told me the conversation was over.

  Shit, I really shouldn’t have done that. Said that. That definitely wasn’t playing it cool. And it was completely out of line. I’d have to tell Chase when she got back.