“That’s Pam’s choice.” Cody rose to his feet, and Chase was surprised to notice how he filled the small kitchen. He wasn’t particularly tall, but he had an imposing presence hidden under his goofy, joking demeanor—a subtle, simmering strength Chase had never really noticed before. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“Look, I trust you,” Chase said. “I’m not going to fight you over it or anything. I’d just feel better if I knew.”
“Okay. Okay.” Cody blew out an aggravated breath. “But it stays here, okay? I’m not supposed to tell anyone. Pam’s the only one who knows, and that’s ’cause she wouldn’t have anything to do with me until she was sure she could trust me with Annie.”
Chase nodded, and Lacey followed suit. Galt just kept on eating, ignoring Cody’s stare.
“He doesn’t talk to anybody anyway,” Chase said, nodding toward the old man. “Shoot.”
“Okay,” Cody said. “I was a cop.”
“A cop? Buddy, you’ve got a knife tattooed on your chest.”
“Undercover. I busted a bunch of dealers in Texas, and they figured out it was me who got them popped. Feds sent me out here so they wouldn’t kill my ass.” He grinned, and suddenly he was back to being the Cody Chase knew. It all made sense now. The rough exterior, the good-guy heart.
“Witness Protection loves towns like this.” Cody turned to Lacey. “You made a good choice for a hiding place.”
“Not good enough.”
“No, but that Simpson guy would have found you wherever you went. That was one sick, determined dude. What’d you do to him, anyway?”
“I said no.”
“Figured it was something like that.”
“I’m surprised he never killed anybody,” Chase said.
Lacey put down her sandwich. “He did.” She stared down at her plate, and when she looked back up her eyes held such a heartbreaking combination of sorrow and pity that he wanted to take her in her arms and comfort her.
But then he realized the pity was for him.
“He did,” she whispered. “Your dad.“Your dad didn’t commit suicide.”
She was looking at Chase like she expected him to yell or throw something or break down and cry, but all he felt was relief flooding into his heart and breaking down years of shame, distrust, and despair. He’d known his father would never take his own life. Everyone else figured losing the land would be enough to make his dad fall apart, but Chase had known he was stronger than that.
“He confessed,” Cody said. “With a little encouragement. He’s a talker, that one.” A faint shadow of his usual grin crossed his face, but he sobered immediately.
“Your dad figured out Bradford was bribing government officials. What he didn’t know was that some of the cops were part of it too. When he called the police, Simpson told him to meet him at the barn. And… well. His expression hardened and Chase got a glimpse of the cop under the carefree facade.”
“Don’t worry. He’ll pay. He’s going away for a long time.”
***
When they finally got home, the ranch kitchen looked the same as it had when Lacey had left it hours before, but somehow it seemed warmer. Maybe it was the golden glow of the light fixture over the sink, or the contrast with the starkness of Galt’s cabin. Maybe it was the fact that she’d almost fallen to whatever fate Wade had in mind for her, and she was just glad to be alive.
Or maybe it no longer felt like a prison, because Trent had testified and she was free to stay or go, whichever she chose.
She looked at the bare window and remembered the scraps of curtain dangling at the windows of Galt’s cabin, the homey touches that had seemed so out of place on the wide, vacant plains. Someone had made that lonely outpost a home.
She wondered about the woman who had hung the curtains. Had she chosen a life on the land? Loved the wide-open spaces? Or had she loved a man who lived there and sacrificed her own way of living to stay with him?
She remembered Chase’s words the last time they’d been in this room. I love you. I always have. I always will. The fact that this quiet, private man was willing to put his feelings into words—frank, honest, almost desperate words—meant he was ready to sacrifice almost anything to make their relationship work.
But she was almost as desperate to escape it.
It was his own fault, really. It wasn’t that she hadn’t forgiven him for his harsh words on her first day in Grady; it was that the words had sunk into her soul, scarred her heart, twisted her bones.
Go sell yourself to someone else.
Deep down, she’d known she wasn’t living an independent life—but she’d always thought she’d climb out of the ditch Trent had stuck her in somehow, get that real estate license, and start a new life at the heart of her hometown, helping families find homes. Making a difference.
But the truth was, she’d never made an effort to make any of that happen. She’d belonged to her father first, then Trent. And now she was having a hell of a time resisting the temptation to belong to Chase.
When he came up behind her, his voice was as honeyed and warm as the sunlight streaming in the window. His chest brushed her shoulder blades, and his arm swept around her waist.
“Lacey.”
She closed her eyes and gripped the edge of the counter as his lips swept over the hollow just behind and below her ear, stirring the fine tendrils spilling from her knotted hair and raising a chill on her skin even as she warmed from the inside.
She turned, thinking she’d press her hands to his chest and push him away, but his lips traced her jawline and found her lips and she fell into him instead, just like she’d fallen into her trophy wife life back in Conway. It would be easy to let Chase carry her away, take her to bed, take her into his life and fold love and comfort around her like a soft flannel blanket.
“Chase,” she said. “Wait. We need to talk.”
His lips brushed hers. “Not after that kiss. We need to finish what we started.”
He turned her away from the window, waltzing her backward across the kitchen floor while he kissed the corner of her mouth, the swell of her cheekbone, the soft spot at her temple. They were halfway down the hallway before resistance crossed her mind, and they hit the bed before the thought fully formed.
“We can talk tomorrow, Lacey. We can do whatever you want. Just give me this—give us this—for now.” He hiked himself up on his elbows and looked down at her. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought he might have…” He shuddered. “I can’t imagine the world without you in it.”
She smiled. “You lived without me all that time. You’ll be fine.”
He shook his head slowly, emphatically. “No. Not without you. Even back before you came to Grady, I knew you were there in Conway, and that was all I needed. I never thought…” He bent and kissed her cheek, brushing her hair away from her face. “I never thought I’d have you here. But I don’t ever want to live in a world without you in it. You don’t have to be with me. You just have to be.”
She wondered for a half-second how she’d wound up sprawled on the bed beneath him, but she loved the way he was looking at her, and suddenly she didn’t wonder anything except how she’d ever be able to leave him.
He was an honest man, and when he’d said he loved her, he meant he loved her forever. I don’t do flings. That statement defined him, his serious view of the world, his loyalty, and his love. She could depend on him the rest of her life, whether she stayed or left. It was her choice.
She looked up into his eyes and felt all her resolutions wavering, fading in the light of his love.
“I’ll think about it tomorrow,” she said.
The quote from Scarlett somehow separated this moment from the rest of their lives. She felt like she was hovering in the space between her old self and something new, a space that didn’t have anything to do with who she was or what mattered or what she could, would, or should do. This moment was about her and Chase. Nothing else.
“You’re not falling, Lac
ey,” he said. “You’re flying. It’s just that you’re flying toward me.”
She reached up and set her palm against his chest, savoring the warmth of his skin, the slow, steady beat of his unchangeable heart. “No,” she said. “I’m falling. But that’s okay.”
He kissed her again, and she felt like she really was falling, out of the world and into love. Grady, the ranch, the horses, the horror she’d been through with Wade—it all seemed small and distant compared to the feelings for Chase that were warming her from the inside out. She closed her eyes and let go of everything but the feeling of being with him, the sensation of touching and being touched.
He pulled away from the kiss and sat up, stroking her hair once more before he set to work on her blouse. His eyes were serious as he undid the delicate buttons and pulled the thin fabric aside. Her jeans were next. As he frowned over the button fly, the touch of his fingers made her close her eyes and toss her head. He was hurried and clumsy, and she finally helped him, shimmying her hips to reveal the thin lace panties she’d put on that morning. It seemed like it had been days since morning when she’d sorted through her suitcase, picking and choosing, passion and rebellion building low in her stomach as she thought about what to wear.
He slipped his hand under the lace just like she’d hoped he would, and her body sparked and flared, thrilling at his touch. She was ready, more than ready, but he seemed determined to take his time, tugging the panties slowly down her legs, then going to work on the clasp of her bra. She wanted to help him—hell, she wanted to rip her clothes off and jump his bones—but he seemed so mesmerized by the revelation of her bare skin that she let him do it his way.
But his way seemed to consist of removing her clothing unbearably slowly, and then staring at what he’d revealed. Running his hands over it until her skin prickled and her nipples peaked and ached, and then staring some more. She’d never felt so appreciated, but she was frustrated too.
“Please, Chase. I thought you wanted to finish what we started.”
“I do. But I want to take my time.” He lifted her bra away, first one cup then the other, and slid the scrap of lace off the bed and onto the floor. Running his hand down the slope of her breast, he swept his palm over the hard-budded nipple and traced the ripples of her ribs and the soft swell of her belly. She opened herself to his touch as his hand slid down into the valley between her legs, but it only brushed her curls and kept on going, stroking the muscles of her thighs, the soft spot behind her knees, the tender arch of her foot.
“I thought you wanted to finish it today,” she said.
“I don’t want to ever finish it,” he murmured. He stroked the arch of her foot with one finger, and she wanted that finger everywhere, on her and inside her, especially inside her, where she was welling over with hot slick heat, anticipating what was coming.
At least it was coming eventually.
Chase sat up beside her, still serious, and moved one hand over her breast, cupping it in his palm running his thumb over the nipple. Bending down, he licked the slick aureole, his tongue teasing the hard peak before he closed his lips around it and sucked gently, his tongue still swirling over her skin in a complicated dance that made nerves dance at the surface of her skin, flickering signals running from her nipples all the way down to the ache between her legs.
She arched her back and groaned. This was what she needed, what she had to have. Coming close to dying had made her want to live in a new way, experiencing everything, savoring every sensation. His tongue teased her nipple while his lips tugged at it, and she thought she’d explode if he didn’t touch the other one. She wanted him, even more than she’d wanted him in the office, even more than she’d wanted him in the motel, and she wanted him in a new way—rough and hard and fast. She wanted him to take her, own her, but damn if he hadn’t chosen this time to be tender.
Grabbing his hand, she pulled it over her breast and pressed it there, guiding his fingers until they closed around the tight bud and pinched away the unbearable ache.
“Chase, give me more.” She cupped her breast and pushed it into his hand until it hurt, tossing her head back and arching her back, opening her body to him in full surrender that asked for nothing and demanded everything. “Please. I need you to touch me hard.”
He made a hoarse, helpless sound in his throat and rasped out, “I don’t want to hurt you, Lacey. I can’t ever hurt you.” But what she’d said seemed to push a button somewhere that flicked him from “on” to “high” and suddenly he was all over her, breasts to belly to between her legs, his fingers rough, his tongue and lips greedy. He took what he wanted, tasting and teasing, raking her tender skin to a hot flush.
His breath was harsh, and she could feel him trembling as he struggled to control himself. She knew he wanted what she was offering, wanted to take her fast and hard. She knew he was barely able to keep from shoving himself into her like an animal, and it was a testament to his love that he was trying to be tender. But she let out a growl and pulled his mouth down to hers, letting a deep, swirling, tugging kiss tell him what she wanted, and it seemed to flip a switch that set him loose. He pulled away just long enough to shed his clothes and toss them away, and then his hands cupped her hips and he forced her over, belly down. His teeth grazed the back of her neck as he pushed against her, his erection unbelievably hard, his touch insistent.
She hiked herself up on her knees, offering herself, and he slid against her but not into her, the head of his cock until she pushed back against him and wiggled her hips just right. He slid inside with a sharp intake of breath, then lost all his hard-won scruples and pumped fiercely into her, taking her with no holds barred, no filters, no rules.
She rocked forward and back, forward and back, and finally he reached up and grabbed a fistful of hair and took her like she wanted to be taken, fast and hard and almost brutal. She felt owned and mastered and realized this was the one way she could let a man dominate her—the only way. She’d offer herself this way and slake that need to give herself to a man, and then she’d walk away with all the pieces of herself intact, the need fulfilled, her satisfaction freeing her to find herself.
He tugged her head back and his breath rasped in her ear as he slid home again, his free hand guiding her hips and snugging her hard against him while he pushed himself into her over and over. He stroked her hip, then slid his hand down to stroke the heart of her, his finger slipping over the wet, slick skin until he found the spot, the spot, and rubbed it hard and fast while he fucked her until heat spiraled from her center and plumed inside her like a typhoon wave that knocked her off her feet and tumbled her over and over in an unrelenting sea of love and need that washed away the fear and the caution and every rational thought she’d ever had, freeing her to revel in the feeling of release.
For some reason, the rough, animal joy of it made her love him so hard it hurt, and she almost cried when he stiffened and groaned with his own release.
They slumped together on the bed, exhausted and limp with no secrets possible between them. She turned over and pulled him close, nuzzling into the hollow at the base of his throat, breathing in the scent of him. She felt like she’d broken a code, unlocked a door, and freed herself from prison. Tomorrow she’d wake up to the world with a new kind of strength. She’d find her own way, but she’d always come back to Chase, maybe not right away but someday soon, because eventually the hunger for what he gave her would be too much and she’d need to do this again. And again. And again.
Later, she woke in darkness and felt his hand sliding over her body. Turning in his arms, she kissed him and they made soft, sweet love that was so tender and pure, she vowed to forget it as soon as day came because if she remembered how sweetly he’d touched her, she’d never be able to leave.
Chapter 45
In the morning, she eased out of sleep slowly, blinking and confused and exhausted. Chase was beside her, his hand stroking her hair, his eyes on hers and filled with love and promises that made h
er bolt upright and flail around for cover. She slipped on his shirt while she hunted around for her own clothes, finding her bra hanging on the bedpost, her panties on the floor. He watched her with a half smile on his lips that made her heart ache. She had to go. She had to be herself before she could be his. She tugged on her jeans and tried not to look at him, then left the room without a word.
“We need to talk,” she said over breakfast.
“You need to talk,” he said. “I’m fine.”
She stared down at her cereal, determined not to meet his eyes. If she looked at him, she’d give up. She’d stay. She’d link her life with his and never make it on her own. “I don’t know what to do, Chase. I-I shouldn’t stay, but I can’t go.”
“You have to stay,” he said. “I need you. You need me. We’re good together, and you belong here.”
“I don’t belong here,” she said. “I’m not good at this life. If I stay, I’ll just be dependent on you. I need to make a life of my own.”
“You already did.”
She looked up, forgetting her resolution. His gaze was open and honest as ever.
“You don’t depend on me, Lacey. Not now, not ever. Just because we’re together doesn’t mean that I own you.” A grin flashed over his face. “Well, except when we—you know.”
She thought of the night before and flushed.
“This is a life of your own, Lacey. You barged in and made it your own, because God knows, you own every inch of me. You’re not giving up. You’re taking over.” He shook his head in wonder. “Look at my life since you got here. I had to fire my only employee. My horse is lame. My kitchen’s suddenly way too big, and that bed in there? Way too wide. I can’t sleep there by myself. Not anymore.”
She stared at him, thoughts tumbling in her mind. She wasn’t quite awake yet. Was he accusing her of something?
She frowned. “It’s not my fault you had to fire Krystal,” she said. “She was the one who screwed…”
He put a firm finger to her lips, looking pained. “Don’t say it. I don’t want to think about it.”
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