by J. C. Reed
As if he sensed my thoughts, his hand touched mine. “What, Laurie?”
“Nothing,” I whispered, which was kind of a lie. To admit what I was thinking, that I felt jealousy at the thought of him having others, was wrong. I had no right to feel that way. Chase might have been the first who touched me and taught me how to pleasure a man, but he didn’t belong to me.
“You look tired,” Chase whispered. “I’m taking you home.”
I opened my mouth to protest but stopped. Maybe it was for the better.
“Sure. It’s late anyway,” I said, having a hard time controlling the disappointment pouring through me. It didn’t make sense. Why did I want to please him so much just because he had changed my mind about sex?
Because you enjoyed it, Hanson, and you want him.
Stupid, stupid mind.
I shook my head, annoyed with myself.
Chapter 7
Throughout the ride Chase entertained me with stories about all the things he had experienced in his career as an actor. I listened, half interested and half distracted by the longing inside me.
The car came to a screeching halt outside the apartment building. A look at my watch told me it was almost three a.m. The lights in Jude’s bedroom were out. She was most certainly at home, and would be great company even if I woke her in the middle of the night. Yet I could barely bring myself to leave Chase—the one person who had made me feel so confused about our sexual encounter. I wanted to get down and dirty with him, if only to stifle the heat inside me. So, naturally, I wondered how Chase could remain so composed and easygoing, as if nothing had happened between us.
“Here we are,” Chase said.
“Thanks for tonight.” I avoided his gaze, not sure whether I was thankful for him saving me, or the time we had together.
“I enjoyed my time with you.” His voice was low, his tone filled with the usual undercurrents implying so much more than he’d just said.
“So did I.”
For a moment silence ensued. It was bearable, almost welcome. I scanned the dark windows of our building. Everyone was either tucked in for the night, or had gone out. Except for the faint noise of traffic carrying over, everything was quiet. If we waited up an hour, Chase and I could watch the sunrise. Only I wasn’t sure I could just sit there, without touching him, without begging him to take me back to his apartment. I almost dreaded entering my empty bedroom and getting engulfed in the thoughts I knew would start off like this:
Did I do something wrong that made him pull away? Was I making a mistake by wanting to get involved with him? When had my feelings for him become all muddled? What were his thoughts on me? How could I ever repay him for his help? And what would happen when it was over?
At last Chase sighed, disrupting my inner monologue and drawing my attention back to him.
“Laurie, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he started hesitantly. “How come a beautiful woman like you is still virgin?”
I flushed at his sudden bluntness. No one had ever asked me that, because it had never been a big deal before.
“There was never a right time.”
Or a right guy.
“How come?”
I bit my suddenly parched lips, considering my words. “It’s been three years since I last visited Waterfront Gardens. My life before…it was very different compared to now. I wasn’t happy. I always felt something was missing. When I moved to L.A. I hoped that I could find it. So I focused on college and career, or lack thereof.” I shook my head, grimacing. “All my life I had been dependent on Clint. L.A. was my first real chance to stand on my own feet and find myself. Get rid of my depression. Make something out of myself. You know, find a purpose in life.”
“So you haven’t dated before?”
Before?
Before now?
Before him?
Was I putting words in his mouth again?
I took my time answering his question. “I did, but…” I looked up and drew a long breath, letting it out slowly. “It didn’t go well. I didn’t feel safe.”
“Because you were scared of getting hurt?”
The truth was worse. So much worse. I shook my head slowly.
“No, because the last time I did, someone got killed.” My breath shuddered as I remembered his face before he died. “I’m sorry. I don’t really want to talk about it. Please don’t ask.”
“I would never push you.” He frowned. His hand curled around mine. “Laurie, about today.” His eyes locked on me gently. “I’m sorry I pushed you away. I know you wanted more, but you deserve your first time to be special. You waited so long for it to happen. I didn’t want to ruin it by doing it on a backseat.”
He was right, of course. A car, even one as big as the one I was sitting in, wasn’t the place I’d always imagined.
But the way he said it, caring so much about it, made my body want him even more.
“So, what are you suggesting? That we go somewhere else?” I narrowed my eyes, reading between the lines.
His gaze softened. Slowly, his lips curled into the most dazzling smile, sending another wave of want through me.
Oh God.
Those dimples.
“Sometime, someplace, yes.” He winked. “That is, if you still want me to be your first.” His brows shot up in mock confusion.
I blushed hard and turned my head away shyly, deliberately choosing to keep him in the dark, even though I had been so straightforward I might just as well have written ‘I want you to fuck me’ across my forehead.
The promise lingered in the air, so heavy I could almost touch it, and yet so far away. I wanted to come hard around his talented fingers, and yet it didn’t seem like I’d ever experience any part of him inside me ever again.
He was like a dream: so real, and yet so surreal.
“I’d better go. It’s getting late.” I pointed at the backseat. “Have you seen my panties?”
The memory that I still had them on while getting all hot and frisky with him was vivid in my mind. After that, all became a delicious blur.
“Sure, I have.”
I felt myself melting at the beautiful smile lighting up his face. For a moment, he seemed so young, so carefree; my fingers itched to pull him to me and kiss him just to see what would happen.
With a sudden move, his hand slid under the seat, and he held up my panties, dangling from his finger. I reached up to grab them, but he was faster at moving them out of my reach. “I’m keeping those as payment.”
I blinked, confused. “As payment for what?”
“For making my right hand ache for a week.” He stuffed them inside his pocket with a pleased expression and then turned to me again. “Ready to go home and tell Jude all our dirty secrets, or whatever you girls like doing?”
“Ha. Ha. I see your sense of humor hasn’t left you. Good night, Chase.” Smirking, I grabbed my bag and opened the door, but his hand curled around my upper arm, stopping me.
“That’s not the only thing that hasn’t left me. I still like you…a lot.” Without another word, he leaned forward and gave me a short kiss on my mouth, and then whispered, “Good night, Laurie. Call me if you need anything.”
I stepped out of the car, my mind spinning. He was gone the moment I reached our apartment building and had let myself inside. Hugging my body, I stood behind the glass, scanning the street, suddenly uneasy.
Even though the street was dark and deserted, I felt watched.
A shudder ran down my spine as I imagined someone lurking in the shadows, which I attributed to the fact that I didn’t like to be on my own just as much as I didn’t like to involve Chase in the mess that was my life. But I was doing just that. The realization that one of us would get hurt eventually sent another shiver through me.
Eventually, I headed upstairs and let myself into our apartment. The moment the door closed behind me, I exhaled a breath of relief, happy that I was back home and could finally process my thoughts.
Only eighteen days to go.
I couldn’t wait to get married.
I stopped in mid-thought. That hadn’t come out right. Obviously, I didn’t want to get married per se. I just hoped that by marrying, everything—the threat, my fears, my questions, the constant feeling of being observed—would go away. More importantly, I had a feeling that the sole reason Chase wanted to wait was to make sure I didn’t feel like I owed him for him helping me, even though he couldn’t be further from the truth.
I wanted to be with him—more than anything. And not just as friends.
Sex wouldn’t do it anymore.
I wanted to be more than someone he slept with.
I wanted him.
I wanted him to date me without all the challenges present in my life. Without being fake-married to me. Jude was right. My best friend had found a guy who wasn’t just interested in helping me; he was also interested in me. Someone who might want to have a real relationship at some point. Only I wouldn’t find out how real it was until this fake-marriage thing was over and we were divorced, free and ready to test how serious Chase was—a risk I was willing to take, if only to find out if his eyes were as true as his words.
If only I could control my urges around him.
Eighteen days. Of planning. Of pretending to be a loved-up couple, committed for life.
Once I reached my bedroom, I switched on the lights and closed the door. Then I threw my bag on the floor and let myself sink into my bed, ignoring the strange throbbing between my legs.
It felt strange to be back home after tonight’s events—almost as if I had left a part of my old self behind with Chase. Only a few weeks ago, I didn’t care much about my lack of experience when it came to sex. Maybe because I hadn’t known how soft Chase’s lips were or how much pleasure his presence could cause me. Now I seemed obsessed. My thoughts kept circling around him, recalling every hour we spent together, every glance he gave me, every stroke, every nuance of him, even his scent.
My heart kept wishing that it’d all work out.
All traces of my innocence were gone, replaced with longing to get to know Chase and a strong need to experience a new level of intimacy with him. He had stirred something deep inside me. It was so much more than desire or sexual longing. It was a wish to keep him long after we had signed the deal.
Only, I was too afraid of this whole marriage thing. Even though Chase wouldn’t be married to me for real, he might still be feeling he had to run once things became serious.
Kicking off my shoes, I stared at the reflection in the mirror opposite my bed, wondering how I would deal with Chase’s rejection once he realized just how attracted I was to him.
My phone pinged, the distracting noise echoing through the silence. I fished it out of my bag and took a deep breath before reading Chase’s text.
What are you doing now? I hope you wear something short and sexy, preferably something with your sweet pussy on display.
I laughed as my fingers began to type fast.
Getting ready for sleep. And no, I wasn’t planning on wearing anything. It’s too hot in here.
I sat back, a grin on my face. A minute later, another message pinged back.
Damn. I wish I’d asked if you want to stay over. Can I pick you up in five min and we try again? I have a really big bed, waiting to be shared. Or so I’ve been told.
I stared at Chase’s message. He couldn’t be serious. Pick me up at four a.m.? No chance, even though I had to admit the offer was tempting. Biting my lip, I crossed my legs under me and typed a new message.
Nice try but sorry, the ship has sailed. Remember our rules: never after midnight. And just to be clear, I expect my panties back. There’s no way in hell you’re keeping them.
Sleep panties! Sorry, I meant sleep tight.
A few breaths later my phone pinged again.
What panties? I think I might have lost them. No worries. I’ll gladly buy you a whole drawer of them and watch you try them all on. I’ll even help you pull them down.
My breath hitched as my core clenched with delicious anticipation.
Won’t happen. Unless we call the whole thing off or get divorced.
Before he could continue our little game, I turned off my phone and crept under the covers with a huge smile on my face that I knew wouldn’t vanish for a long time. Closing my eyes, I begged sleep to come. When it finally did, Chase’s face haunted my dreams.
Chapter 8
“Wake up,” Jude sang, as she knocked on my door a second before it was thrown open. “It’s time to go buy a dress.”
I groaned, but didn’t stir in the hope she would go away. I knew she wouldn’t, but at least I could pretend to not hear her. The thing with Jude was, she didn’t take ‘go away’ for an answer; not even silence or a person’s need for privacy could motivate her to back the fuck off. As if sensing my thoughts, she jumped on my bed, and began to sing the national anthem in the most cringeworthy voice one could possibly imagine, knowing all too well how much I despised noise.
Come on.
Couldn’t a girl get some sleep?
Under usual circumstances, Jude had a pleasant voice. The thing was that the moment she started singing, she sounded like a cat screeching through a pipe. Jude had no talent for singing. None whatsoever. But the knowledge didn’t stop her from trying at every opportunity. In fact, it had become her weapon whenever she wanted to wake me up.
“Please, shut up,” I whispered, and pulled the sheets over my head again. I had managed to get all of two hours of sleep. Two hours of dreaming of Chase, his gorgeous body, my hands touching him all over, right before he was shot by an assassin and died in front of my eyes.
My subconscious was definitely trying to tell me something. I just didn’t know what exactly.
Needless to say, I was tired, eager to close my eyes again and snooze through the rest of the day and get back to more pleasant dreams—anything that would remove last night’s nightmare from my memory, or at least get rid of my sleep deprivation.
“Come on, Laurie. It’s after lunch.” Jude pulled at my sheets. “Time to buy a dress, so drag your lazy ass out of there. If you’re really getting married, we better make it look damn convincing, which involves dressing the part.”
I groaned and slammed a pillow over my head. “Can you give me half an hour?”
“No, make it fifteen.” She yanked at the sheets, and they landed on the floor in a messy heap. “Coffee’s ready. I’ve already called the bridal shop and made an appointment. I’ve heard it’s the cheapest in town, and they have a sale.”
Trust Jude to always find a bargain.
Who’d say no to a bargain?
Not I, and particularly not when I was strapped for cash.
“Okay.” I groaned and pried one eye open, watching Jude disappear out the door.
Eighteen days to go.
With a deep breath I forced my tired body out of bed. Changing into a black shirt with jeans, I told myself that there was no need to stress out. It was just a dress. It didn’t even have to be a pretty or expensive one. Only one that would do the job.
As I brushed my hair, my gaze fell on my dresser. One of the drawers was ajar. I always closed them.
Frowning, I walked closer and opened it, inspecting the personal things I kept inside. Among them was a brown wooden gift box in which I kept a necklace that once belonged to my mother. I lifted the box and opened it, my fingers itching to touch the last thing my mother wore—a reminder of her presence.
My breath hitched.
The box was empty. I rummaged through the drawer, then tossed everything onto the floor until it was empty. There was no trace of the necklace.
“Jude!” I shouted. Her steps thudded down the hall and her head popped in an instant later.
“What? Are you done? We only have two minutes left.”
“Almost.” I pointed to the drawer. “Did you go through my stuff?”
Which Jude was allowed to do.
She borrowed things all the time—and never forgot to give them back.
“No. Why?”
“The drawer was open. I can’t find my mom’s necklace.” I pointed at the heap on the floor and the box. “The box is empty, and I can’t find it anywhere.”
“That’s weird.” She looked at me wide-eyed, her voice betraying her worry. “Are you sure it’s gone? Maybe you just misplaced it?”
I looked around my room. Unlike Jude, I was always a bit chaotic, which was why I needed lists—a habit she had always made fun of.
“Maybe,” I whispered, unconvinced.
“Let me help you,” Jude offered. “We can call off the appointment and look for it. I know how important the necklace is to you, Laurie. We’ll find it, you’ll see.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll do it later when we get back. I’m sure it’s somewhere here.” I pointed at the mess at my feet. “Let’s go.”
Jude eyed me carefully. “You sure?”
I nodded with more confidence than I was feeling. There had been a time when I used to sleepwalk. The first time it happened, I was in boarding school. It had been right after I found out that my mom was sick. Sleepwalking became something of a habit that reached its peak when she died, and calmed down the moment I moved out of Waterfront Gardens. It started again five weeks ago, when nightmares plagued me.
I thought it had something to do with my nearing birthday, being faced with the reminders of my mom’s suicide and my need to get those letters. Or maybe it was the result of a traumatic experience, such as being trapped in a lift with a complete stranger. Whatever caused it, one day I just woke up sprawled over the kitchen floor in front of the open fridge.
“I’m sure it’s somewhere. It has to be,” I said, more to convince myself than Jude. “I’m probably freaking out without reason. You know me. When I’m stressed, I tend to lose things, make a fuss, and then find them again.”
