by Delilah Hunt
He was much bigger than her at around six feet three inches and well over two hundred pounds of solid muscle from lifting iron in his ‘spare time’ as Larke would’ve called it.
The lump in his throat felt bigger. He didn’t deserve her concern or that look in her eyes. The tenderness. He didn’t deserve a lick of it at all.
“That’s real nice of you, Larke. Means a lot, to be honest, but I can’t stay.”
Her eyes searched his own, staring so deep Chase wondered if she could see everything he tried to hide. Once again, the all-consuming need to take her into his arms took a hold of him. He wanted to hold her close, inhale her scent–flowers and sweetness–then bury himself so deep inside her lush body. Why? For no other reason than it felt right. Like being near this woman was the only thing good and worthy in his life.
She pressed her hand to his chest. His breath stopped. All the muscles inside of him went still. “Larke?” Chase covered her hand with his. “What’s going on here, angel? Why are you being so sweet to me?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, gazing up at him with eyes big and full of promises. “I’m just treating you normal. How you should be treated. The way I’d want to be treated. You tell me you can’t stay, but I don’t want you to go. Not yet. And it’s not only because I’m worried about you.”
Before he had a chance to speak, she lowered her hand and beckoned, “Come here.”
In a daze, Chase followed behind her. They rounded a corner and entered her bedroom. In the middle of the room was a queen-sized bed, complete with a colorful, eye-gouging floral comforter. A notebook and pen rested on her bedside table.
“I wanted to show you where the room is.” She gave him a mischievous grin. “Since, you know, we’ve decided you’re staying and all.”
Chase looked at her and was unable to contain the smile on his lips. They both knew he hadn’t decided a damn thing. This was her sly way of giving him an order.
“I agreed?”
She flickered her tongue across her lip and nodded. Mesmerized by the subtle yet erotic action, Chase lowered his head, ignoring the siren blaring inside his mind, warning him to back away. Larke must have sensed his intention-his need, because she raised her head at the same time.
Moaning softly, she parted her lips, allowing him to slip inside, exploring the taste of her mouth. Larke curled her fingers around his arm, mewling in the back of her throat.
The kiss broke as they both came up for air. Inside his chest, his heart pounded like the beating of a sledgehammer, vibrating throughout his entire body. Swallowing hard, Chase staggered backward, holding Larke at arm’s length. It was the only thing he could do to prevent himself from throwing her across her neatly-made bed, spreading her thighs and sliding into her in one swift thrust.
Fuck. Chase gulped in some air, shoved a hand through his hair. His mind was a complete mess because he could still taste her on his lips. All innocence and tender sweetness. Things he shouldn’t have. Had never wanted. His skin tingled where her fingertips had closed around him. His dick… He brought a fist to his mouth and sucked in a deep breath. Larke and her moaning had him stiff and hurting so damn much.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She traced her index finger across her lips. “I–I don’t know what to say. Chase, this wasn’t about sex. I only brought you here to show you the room. Nothing more. I swear. I’m really sorry. After everything I said, I’d hate for you to think I’m playing with you. I’d never do that.”
Larke looked as affected as he felt. Her braids were disheveled and her lips slightly swollen. She was even sweeping her pink tongue over her lips. Did she realize what she was doing? He gulped in another breath. “You liked it?”
She stared at him wide-eyed. He could see the pulse in her neck fluttering like crazy as she nodded. Her lips eased into a delicate smile. “It was wonderful.” She narrowed her brows, “What about you? I mean. Are we okay? Did you like kissing me, or was it…” She bit her lip and averted her gaze, letting the rest of her question hang in the air.
Chase’s gut clenched. He was fully aware of what she was trying to ask without being able to finish the painful sentence. He managed a nod then dipped his head, capturing her lips between his own to show her the truth.
“Had to do it,” he murmured when the kiss ended. He tapped the corner of her lips with his thumb. “You’re addicting.”
“So are you.”
His entire body felt warm and alive as her words washed over him. In that moment, Chase knew it was too late for him to leave and too late to ever go anywhere but forward in this relationship.
Larke continued to hold him in her view, her gaze lowering to his chest, arms and toward his legs. Her brows wrinkled like they did earlier. “Do you––” She stopped, shook her head and allowed her hand to fall at her side. “Nevermind. I’ll grab some clothes and go out in the living room.”
Chase grabbed her hand, pulling her back. “Don’t do this, Larke. You wanted to ask me something. I know it had to be important to you. What was it? What do you wanna know?”
“I was curious about something but it doesn’t matter. I’m not sure it would make a difference anyway.”
“Tell me.”
She gave him a pained stare then rushed out, “Do you have the tattoos all over your body?”
Chase shook his head. Drawing in a breath, he peeled the shirt over his head, half afraid of her reaction, but understanding her concern. He needed to be upfront about everything, including the tattoos. “I don’t have anything on my legs. Only what you see here on my upper body.”
She nodded slowly. Her gaze traveled over his chest, stomach, and arms. Closing his eyes, Chase turned, knowing she needed to see it all. Shame dug into him as he pictured her reaction while reading the words splayed on his back. ‘Crazy White Boy’, a term identifying him as a white supremacist, along with the other nationalist symbols that had meaning to him. He prayed she didn’t recognize the majority of them or understood what they stood for.
Scrutiny completed, Larke turned to him and quietly said, “I thought maybe you had a swastika.”
He shook his head, glad he’d refused that tattoo while some his friends opted to have it inked onto their skin. “My grandfather always said the Nazi party ruined the image of white nationalism. Made people lose respect for our beliefs and cause.”
“Okay. But please tell me you agree what they did to the Jewish people was horrendous.”
Her eyes were imploring him again, testing out his humanity. “Larke…”
Sighing loudly, she tightened her jaw then returned her attention to the rest of his tattoos. “I do recognize some of these symbols. Not all, but quite a few.” She pressed her fingertip to a spot on his shoulder. Chase felt her hand move, tracing the ones she claimed to recognize. He stood, silently letting her explore and examine all the wicked parts of him. The ones she can only see on the outside. Look for herself and decide if she can allow herself to belong and maybe one day open her body to a monster like himself.
“It hurts to see these things,” she said, not a hint of anger in her tone. “But I think… No. I know and believe this with all my heart, that you’re not a horrible person. I just need you to tell me that somewhere deep inside, you know there’s a lot of wrong in many of the things I’m seeing here.” She touched a spot above his chest. “Like this one.” Her fingertip grazed the Confederate flag standing high amid flames and ashes. “Put yourself in my shoes, Chase, then tell me if you understand.”
He did. Hell, he couldn’t get McNair’s fucking snort out of his head, laughing and talking about the woman in the beer commercial. Ever since that night, he’d had time to reflect on his thoughts or rather his lack of real thoughts on certain issues. It wasn’t that he actually believed black people should be slaves or should’ve been enslaved in the first place. No one should have the right to own another person. At least not in terms of property for forced labor.
Chase pinched the bridge of his no
se, unaware that his head hung low until he felt Larke’s arm circling his neck in a delicate embrace.
He raised his head and recalled her previous question about the Jews. “No. I don’t agree with what happened.”
Her arms tightened around him. All he could feel next was her lips on his shoulder, warming his skin. A groan slipped from his mouth before he could silence it.
“Shh.” Her dark eyes peered up at him. Larke lowered her head again, sprinkling hot kisses along his chest and each and every one of the tattoos she despised. When her lips stroked the words on his arm, Chase jumped, losing his cool.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He rubbed the top of his head, back and forth. Crazed. Did Larke know what she was doing to him? His chest clenched and expanded. His lungs felt as if someone was squeezing the air from them. The back of his eyelids burned. Actually stung with tears. He never cried. Wouldn’t cry.
“It’s okay.” She soothed him by rubbing her cheek along his arm, her skin coming into contact with so much hate. “Honestly, Chase. It’s fine. We have each other now. We can deal with this together.”
He was powerless to her—a female half his size who had the kind of strength he could only dream of having or understanding.
Larke moved to the bed, patted a spot beside her and said, “Turn over.” Chase did just that, lying on his stomach. Craning his head, he saw her kneeling at his side. He meant to ask what she had in mind but there was no need. With a tiny grin on her face, Larke steepled her fingers and flexed her hands. He stifled a groan as she began caressing then massaging his shoulder blades. Smooth fingertips dug into his back, easing the coiled tension in his muscles.
No one had ever given him a massage. Then again, he couldn’t imagine allowing any of the women he’d fucked to get that close to him. So much touching for no good reason. With Larke…he craved her touch like nothing else. It didn’t have to be sexual, although if he was being honest, her fingers delving into his hard flesh, kneading and massaging; felt like a close second to the pleasure of kissing her. Close, because the only thing that could ever top having his lips on hers was lowering himself between her thighs and plunging all the way to the hilt.
“Better?” She was leaning over and smiling. Thin braids fell against the side of her face.
Chase rolled over on the bed and grazed her cheek with the back of his hand. His heart felt as if it was wedged somewhere between his chest and the top of his throat.
Fuck it to hell! He was falling for Larke. She had blindsided him, throwing a curve in the path he was on. He had no idea if she realized the effect she was having on him, lying there with her face propped against her palm, gazing at him as if he was someone special.
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” Chase told her, unable to hold back.
“Is that good or bad?”
“Good. And bad. Real bad actually.”
The spark of light inside her eyes faded. All traces of happiness melted from her face. “Oh.” She shifted away from him, intent on putting distance between them. Chase wouldn’t allow it. He closed his arm around her waist, stilling her movement. “Stay beside me. All I’m trying to tell you is, you’re different. I don’t mean because you’re black. Just that you’re the nicest person I know. You had so many reasons to hate and push me away, but you haven’t. You’re also so damn pretty it makes my head hurts. I like being around you, Larke and when I’m not around you, I’m thinking about you all the time.”
She stared at him in confusion. “What’s the bad part?”
“Everything I said. I wasn’t raised for anything like this to happen. You and me—we shouldn’t even be talking. Much less me lying on your bed hoping I can kiss you again. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”
“I get it,” she said quietly. “You’ve changed your mind about us being together.”
Was she serious? Yes, common sense was yelling at him to change his mind, but any chance of that happening was impossible now. Larke had to know that. Why else would he have rushed over here to see her? He was in neck deep, with wanting her. Everything about her was drawing him in.
She put her lips on my tattoos.
His skin shivered. Chase shook his head quickly, issuing a firm, “No. I didn’t change my mind. I want you. That’s not gonna stop anytime soon.” Frustrated, he let out a loud sigh. How could he fully explain it without frightening her again?
The two of them in a relationship would piss off a lot of people. The hatred ran deep. He’d seen it, was actively living and participating in it. Race traitors were the worst of the worst. He wasn’t allowed to join the ranks of those who’d given up or abandoned the movement to make America a haven for white people—like it used to be.
Chase was supposed to lead, not set them behind. If anyone found about him and Larke, he knew he’d be ‘forgiven’. They’d view it as a mistake. Explain the relationship away as a moment of weakness brought on by liberal brainwashing or a that he was simply a loyal nationalist who became overcome by grotesque curiosity for the unknown. He knew the last one would be the easiest for everyone to accept.
The real problem, however, was Larke. She’d be seen as the filthy ni–. He shut his eyes. Thinking that word was difficult and painful now that he understood how much it bothered her. They’d see her as the disgusting minority who’d figured out a way to tempt one of their own. And the real fanatics–the same ones terrified of leaving Lee’s Fortress–might even attempt to harm her.
Chase stared at Larke. She appeared hesitant. He leaned over and brushed his lips against hers. “I’m not going anywhere. I only wanted you to understand that being with you isn’t something I’m taking lightly.”
He really wasn’t. Larke was the best thing to happen to him. Right now, she was the only person he considered a friend. The only one he trusted. She was his girl. His alone. He just needed to make sure she knew it. And soon. The rest he’d figure out later.
Chase kissed her hand, reassuring her again. “Forget what I said, okay? None of that crap matters because I’m not giving you up.”
“But––”
He shook his head. “We’re good, angel. Trust me, we’re good.”
Larke sighed, then rose from the bed. “All right. I’m trusting you, Chase.” She moved across the room and opened up a drawer. “All I need now is for you to turn your back while I change.”
He arched a brow. “How’s that fair if you get to see me without a shirt but I don’t get to see you?”
She laughed while pulling out a spaghetti strap shirt and shorts. “I never said I was against double standards. I’m messing with you, though. I’ll change inside the bathroom. Need to brush my teeth before bed like a good girl. You can help yourself to a toothbrush in the mirror cabinet. Any other man stuff you need, you’re on your own.” She tossed him a grin over her shoulder before closing the door behind her.
Minutes later when she came out of the bathroom, her braids had been done into two long twists that sort of resembled a French braid, hanging down the top of her back. His blood roared at the sight of her large breasts straining against the thin undershirt. His eyes lowered to the matching shorts that clung to her firm, plump ass. He ran a hand alongside his jaw and drew in a deep breath. Driving me insane.
Tearing his gaze from her and needing to calm himself, Chase entered the bathroom. After he returned to the bedroom, he was relieved to see Larke had changed her mind about sleeping in the living room. She was lying in bed, wrapped up in her floral comforter. On ‘his’ side of the bed, she’d left a blue and white checkered blanket. Same bed, separate sheets. Small favors, right? At least he wouldn’t have to spend the night being tortured by having her body pressed against his, Chase thought while removing his pants and slipping into the bed beside her. She turned to him as the bed dipped beneath his frame and whispered, “I’m happy you stayed.”
He stroked her face. “Did you ask me to stay because of what I told you happened to my father when we were kids?
”
“That was my reason at first. I really was worried about you being tired. But then I thought about it and realized I really wanted you to stay here with me. Just because.”
8
The next day Chase parked his truck in the driveway of the Antebellum Resistance meeting house-slash-headquarters and hopped out. As always, his stepfather was someone he tolerated because one, he was used to the man’s behavior and two because he had no other choice right now. If Chase had his way, he’d still be across town with his girl instead of having cigarette smoke blown his way.
And of course, in the blink of an eye, his mind was redirected to thoughts of Larke. He hoped she’d found the note he’d left for her this morning. He’d only been away from her for a couple of hours and already he was wishing to be next to her again.
Sometime during the middle of the night, Larke had rolled to the side of the bed he’d slept on. He’d known she was still fast asleep and had no idea what she was doing. If she had…
Drawing in a harsh breath, Chase turned the knob on the door to AR’s main office, while recalling the way Larke had flung her thigh across him, nearly straddling his hips. If any other female had done that while in bed with him, he would’ve taken it as an invitation to thrust his dick so deep inside, giving them both what they wanted. At least the females he knew would’ve wanted it that way, and even expected it of him. Fast and hard. No drawn-out lovemaking.
As for Larke being so close to him... The only thing Chase had been able to do was to lie there, damn near breaking out in a sweat restraining himself. To get rid of his raging erection, he’d forced himself to think about so many things. All sorts of fucked up images—anything to make his cock soften before she awoke and realized how sick he was; wanting to fuck her while she slept. He’d even gone so far as to think about that damn reporter he’d witnessed his grandfather kill in cold blood. The sound of Trevor’s laughter as the body hit the floor. “That ain’t a sound you hear every day, son.”
