by Karen Cimms
I was rinsing the pile of dishes that had accumulated since yesterday and loading them into the dishwasher when Chase stormed into the kitchen. He hadn’t rung the bell this time; he’d just walked in. Zac, who was engrossed in a story of red rain falling over India, didn’t even notice as his father passed through the living room in pajama bottoms, work boots, and his leather jacket. He looked so ridiculous I almost laughed until he grabbed me by the wrist to drag me out of the kitchen.
“Let’s go,” he growled.
I twisted from his grasp, leaving him holding one yellow rubber glove. He stared down at it, somewhat surprised, then threw it on the floor and grabbed my wrist again.
“I haven’t even made dinner yet,” I said. “The kids need—”
“Where’s your sister?” he called to Zac, who was more mesmerized by the story of blood red rain than the drama going on in the kitchen. “Zac!”
Both Zac and I jumped. Chase rarely yelled at the kids.
“What?” Zac looked as if he had just realized his father was standing in front of him.
“Where’s your sister?”
“She’s watching TV in my room,” I explained dryly.
“Izzy!” he bellowed.
He needn’t have bothered. She’d heard the commotion and was standing wide-eyed just outside the kitchen doorway.
Chase let go of my arm, dug his wallet out of his jacket pocket, and threw her a credit card. “Here. Order a pizza. Your grandmother’s on her way over. Your mother and I are going out.”
He spun around and pointed a finger at me. “Get your coat.”
“Can I have french fries, too?” Zac asked.
“Get whatever you want,” he answered, then turned back to me. “Coat!”
“You’re going out in your pajamas?” Izzy asked.
“Something like that. And when we get back, I don’t want to see a dirty dish in the sink”—he pointed at Izzy—“or a clean one on the drain board”—he pointed at Zac. “Understood?”
They both nodded.
Then he yanked me out the door and into the truck.
“Where are we going?” I asked tartly after he climbed in beside me.
“My place,” he answered. “We’re bound to get loud, and I don’t want the kids to hear us.”
My heart sank. “I don’t want to fight any more.”
He gave me a sidelong glance, and the edge of his mouth curled into a smirk.
“Who said anything about fighting?”
Chapter Sixty-Two
Before I had unbuckled my seat belt, Chase was opening my door and pulling me along behind him.
“I’m coming,” I groused. “You don’t have to drag me.”
He didn’t slow down or let go until he dropped my hand to unlock the door, which he held open, waiting for me to enter first.
I’d never been inside his apartment. I’d only come as far as the doorway one time, the day I learned about Callie. It was almost identical to the apartment he’d had when I met him, spare and almost cold. A sofa, a coffee table, a set of glass and metal shelves. Nothing on the industrial white walls. Just a place to hang out until you were called to rejoin your regular life. It hurt, looking at it. He’d been living in a holding pattern, even with Callie.
The only thing out of place was the envelope I’d given him, which lay on the floor. The few sheets of paper that had been folded up inside were spread out on the couch. He stormed across the room, snatched up the papers, and thrust them toward me.
“Explain,” he demanded.
“There’s nothing to explain.”
“You led me to believe this was filled with the names of every man you ever slept with.”
“It is.”
“What are all the blank pages for?”
“They’re the pages you filled with your imagination by believing everyone but me,” I answered evenly.
For a moment, I expected him to argue with me, but he didn’t. He just lowered his head and rubbed his eyes.
“You accused me even when you didn’t say anything. You believed the worst about me. But I swear on my children, that is a complete list.”
“Then why did you let me believe—Jesus, Rain. You let me think the worst.”
I gave him a sad smile. “No I didn’t. I can’t control what you think. You wanted to believe those people, Lorraine and Dylan, and every jerk who slapped me on the ass or made a filthy remark and got rebuffed, then bragged to all his friends that he’d slept with me. Dozens of guys have claimed to have slept with me. Four actually have. Two of them were mistakes.”
“And you want me to believe that Preston was a mistake?”
“I can walk home from here.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“The only one who wasn’t a mistake, besides you, was Jeff. But even though I was only sixteen, I’d do it all over again.”
The lines on his face softened. “Izzy.”
“Exactly.”
“Yeah, I get that.” He gathered the papers and tossed them onto the coffee table. “So where does this leave us?”
“I don’t know. It’s up to you, I guess.”
“Well, if it’s up to me, I want you back. I want my family back.”
I wrapped my arms around my middle for support. We’d been at each other’s throats the other day and we hadn’t even gotten to Preston’s paternity suit. “It’s not that easy. Before we can do that, you have to trust me. I can’t feel like every time I’m out of your sight, you’re wondering if I’m doing something wrong.”
“I know, and I’m working on that.”
“And there’s something else. After hearing this, you might not want me back after all.”
He looked as if he wanted to be sick. For a moment, I wished I’d written this in my note as well, so I wouldn’t have to tell him face to face.
“It’s Preston.”
His eyes narrowed and his body stiffened. “What about him?”
“I didn’t know it at the time, but you were right. Preston must have been coming around the neighborhood, driving past the house. I didn’t know that until you told me the other day, but it kind of makes sense, based on some of the other things that are happening. The thing is …”
My throat went dry, and my hands began to shake. I wished I could get it all out at once so that he couldn’t begin to imagine anything until he had all the facts—or at least the facts as I knew them. “He really wasn’t interested in me, honestly. He wanted to see Zac.”
I thought flames were about to shoot out of his eyes. “What the fuck?”
“You already know that I slept with Preston right before you and I started seeing each other. You knew that.” I was panicking, and my voice was desperate. Chase stared at me silently, waiting. “And then, of course, that night, you and I …” My voice broke, and I pushed out the rest of the words. “He thinks Zac’s his son.” I shook my head. I didn’t believe it, and I wanted Chase to know I didn’t believe it.
“He’s been threatening me since August, saying he’ll take me to court to force a paternity test. That’s why I’ve been working so much at Blondie’s. I’ve been saving every penny I could get. I need money for a lawyer to stop him. I have to voluntarily agree to a DNA test for Zac by the twenty eighth or his lawyer will file a motion in court to force me.”
Chase sank down onto the couch and stared at his hands, then slowly raised his head to look at me.
“I’m Zac’s father.”
“I know. And I’m sure if we have to do this stupid paternity test, that’s what it will prove. I can’t believe he’s being this cruel.”
He shook his head. “You don’t understand. It doesn’t matter what the test says. I’m Zac’s father. I don’t give a shit about biology. That’s my boy.”
My heart was breaking. “Of course he is, and he’s the luckiest boy ever. Izzy, too.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why have you been going through this alone?”
“How could I tell y
ou? I didn’t want you to think even less of me, especially with you marrying Callie. It would have just proven to her and the rest of your family that I’m the slut they all think I am anyway.”
He surged off the couch and wrapped his arms around me. “Fuck them. I don’t care what they think. Not anymore.”
With my check pressed against his chest, I listened to the steady thump of Chase’s heart, soothing me with every beat.
“That son of a bitch,” he growled. “Do you have an attorney yet?”
Despite nothing being any more resolved than it was this morning, just knowing I might no longer have to deal with this alone, had me feeling like I could finally take a full breath. “No. I went to see one a few weeks ago, but I didn’t like him. I didn’t like the way he looked at me, although I would have put up with it if he’d been the right lawyer. But since you and I are divorced anyway, he didn’t see a problem with having a rich father in the picture. I told him off, and then I walked out.”
He pressed a kiss to top of my head. “That’s my girl. How much are we going to need? Do you have any idea?”
I shook my head. “Not really. A couple thousand at least, and that’s probably just to get us past the first court date.”
“Okay. We have some options. We’ll figure it out.”
“We?” I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.
“Yes, we. Together. You and me.”
“Are you sure you can move past all this?”
“I am.”
He snapped up his cell phone, which he’d always kept docked with his Bose. A few seconds later, Eddie Vedder’s voice filled the room: “My Future Days,” the song we’d danced to on the beach the night we got married.
He pulled me against his chest and rocked me gently. “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed everything about our life together.”
Too emotional to speak, I pressed my face against his chest.
With his fingers beneath my chin, he lifted my face to his.
“Rain, will you marry me? Again?”
“I will.”
Electricity. It was still there, stronger than ever as he pressed his mouth to mine. It raced through me like AC/DC current before shooting out my fingertips. If he continued to kiss me like this, I would set the apartment on fire. Maybe the entire complex.
He finally pulled away, giving us both a chance to catch our breath. “If it’s okay with you, we’ll get the license Monday and get married Friday.”
“That soon?”
He touched his forehead to mine, and the tip of his nose pressed against the tip of my nose “Not nearly soon enough.” His lips met mine again in a slow, searing kiss that almost had me forgetting my own name.
He broke away, but didn’t go far. “Second thoughts?” he asked, his lips ghosting mine.
“None. I’d marry you right now if I could.”
I slipped my hands under his T-shirt, running them over the hard, tight ridges of his abdomen and up his rib cage. As I neared the sensitive skin under his arms, he quivered.
I nipped at his lower lip. “Just so you know,” I whispered, “the honeymoon starts now.”
He scooped me up in his arms. “Oh, hell yeah.”
He was carrying me into his bedroom when I grabbed the doorjamb, jolting him to a stop.
“Uh-unh. Not in there.”
“Wha—”
I shook my head. “I’m not getting into a bed you shared with someone else.”
He looked perplexed for a second, then turned and headed to a room at the end of the hall. He kicked the door all the way open, and I saw a twin bed and some of Izzy’s things.
I scrunched my face. “Izzy’s room?”
“It’s not like she’ll be staying in it again, right? I’m moving home, so it doesn’t matter. It’s either this, Zac’s room, or the living room floor.”
I didn’t want to know why he didn’t suggest the sofa.
“You’re right. This will do.”
He lowered me gently onto the bed, then slipped out of his pajama bottoms.
“You appear to have me at a disadvantage,” he said, pointing out that while he was now naked, I was still fully clothed.
A warm hand slid under my sweater, then over my breast. He raised the sweater up to my shoulders, planting kisses along my stomach as he gently guided it above my bra. His warm lips pressed atop my breast, then his teeth tugged at my still-covered nipples. I wriggled beneath him, and he all but growled.
I raised my arms, and he yanked the sweater over my head. He was being rougher than he’d ever been before. We were desperate for each other. My sweater went sailing across the dark room. If someone got a little banged up in the process, I could live with that.
He flipped on the lamp, a glass jar filled with seashells I imagined Izzy had collected on the beach in Cape May. Having something that meant so much to both of us nearby reminded me of the earliest stages of falling in love. And it made me want him even more.
Careful of his arm, I pushed until he was lying on his back, then straddled him. Pressing my body against his, I ran my tongue over his lower lip, tugging at it with my teeth, and covered his mouth with my own. His broken wrist snaked behind me, holding me in place as he tangled the other hand in my hair. When he moaned into my mouth, my heart thudded so hard that he had to have felt it against his chest.
His hand slid lower, and as he kissed me, he hooked his fingers in the clasp of my bra. With one quick squeeze, it came undone. He let out a low chortle, clearly pleased with himself.
While I remained focused on his mouth, his fingers traced lightly over my back until they met up with first one bra strap and then the other. He lowered each gently over my shoulders. I lifted away from him just enough that he could pull it off all the way. It landed somewhere near my sweater.
A second later, I found myself on my back.
“Be careful of that arm,” I warned as he lifted me with his good arm. “You don’t want to be in a cast any longer than necessary.”
“If it keeps getting in my way, I’m going to tear the damn thing off with my teeth,” he growled before nibbling on my shoulder.
“Then why don’t you let me do all the work?”
I moaned softly as he left a trail of kisses along my collarbone, nibbling his way back to my mouth.
My hands worked their way up the long, lean muscles of his arms, rippling beneath the tips of my fingers. The skin on his upper arms was soft and warm to the touch.
Each ridge and ripple of him was so familiar, as if I’d touched them only yesterday. I ran my fingers over each vertebrae behind his neck. I wanted to touch every inch of him, reclaim him, from the spiky strands atop his head to the ends of each of his toes. I loved this man with every part of me, and I wanted to show him just how much.
I cupped his face in my hands, kissing him, then slid my fingers up his neck and into his hair. Its short length still surprised me. I missed his ponytail. I’d always loved to wrap my hands in it and tug, especially at the height of our lovemaking. It had grown since he’d cut it over the summer, but it was still nowhere near as long as it had been. I tugged the strands at the nape of his neck, twirling them around my fingers. When he growled into my neck, I pulled harder.
He responded by wrapping a hank of my hair around his fist, then pulling my head back and running his teeth from the base of my throat up to my chin. After reclaiming my mouth, he worked the buckle of my jeans until they gave way. Keeping his eyes focused on mine, he lowered the zipper, hooked his fingers into the waistband, and tugged them down. They hit the floor at the foot of the bed.
My socks were next. He slid the first off, kissing the arch of my foot, then each toe, working his way slowly, deliberately to the pinky toe. Not once did he threaten to tickle me, although the scruff on his face set me squealing more than once. He smiled down at me but refused to let go. When he’d finished with my feet, he ran his tongue around my ankle, gently biting the two entwined hearts I’d had tattooed on the inside
of my left ankle last winter.
“I never got to ask you about this tattoo,” he breathed as he made his way up the inside of my calf. “Very sexy.”
I was writhing beneath him. “They’re for us. The big heart is for you, and the small one is for me. I believed that somehow we’d find our way back to each other.” It was hard to talk; I was practically panting. “I guess I was right.”
“I guess you were,” he sighed, kissing the sharp wing of my hip bone. I moaned and balled the comforter beneath me in my fists. “You’re driving me crazy.” He pressed his lips against the inside of my thigh, and I felt the vibration go right to my center when he chuckled.
“Good.”
He dragged his nose along the edge of my panties, just below my belly button. His tongue followed, tracing the same path.
“Chase,” I breathed. I grabbed his shoulders, digging my fingers into the hard muscles.
“Not yet,” he murmured. “I’m taking my time.”
“How?” I cried. “I’m going to spontaneously combust.”
He chuckled again. I promised myself I was going to torment him when I had the chance. I would tie him to the bed and use feathers and beads and whatever else—
His mouth came down around the only part of me that remained covered. I felt his teeth drag along the most sensitive part of me and I moaned, loudly. He hooked two fingers into the waistband of my panties, then slid them down my thighs, excruciatingly slowly, trailing his fingers between light, playful kisses and just enough teeth to drive me to madness.
As he worked his way back up the inside of my thigh, I could barely breathe. The room felt as if it had slid off its axis. By the time his lips met my center, I was already bucking beneath him, my hands fisted in his hair. And when his tongue demanded entry, my eyes rolled so far back into my head, I could swear I saw the inside of my skull.
I was so primed for him by then, that after what seemed only seconds with his talented tongue, I was a goner. But he wasn’t finished with me yet. He kissed his way up from my navel, paying equal attention to my breasts. When he found my mouth, he kissed me long and deep, and I tasted myself on his tongue.
