Page 77 of Chase

“Every fucking day since I met you I’ve pictured you up here, strutting around in a tiny bikini while I lay back and watch.”

“I don’t have a bikini here.” The words are simple but filled with sexual innuendo. “I’ll need to go home and get one.”

“If you think I’m letting you leave this penthouse now…” I step forward so our bodies connect. Her soft breasts give way to my chest, and I wrap my arms around her, spreading my fingers across her ass. “You’re going nowhere, Trouble, until I’m done with you.”

“Done doing what?” she replies cheekily.

“Filling you full of me, so I drip from that sweet pussy of yours.” My dirty words don’t appear to affect her. She rolls her eyes then shrugs, the upward movement of her shoulders jiggling her breasts a little.

“You’ve never seen my pussy.” She bites her lip, knowing she’s pushing my buttons. “How do you know she’s sweet?”

“Because every part of you I’ve tasted so far is honey, and I have no doubt you will be the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten.”

In the corner of my terrace is a large daybed draped with white satin. I take her hand once more and lead her across the remaining distance. We stop at the end of the bed, and when I turn back to her again, she eyes me warily. Uncertainty stabs in my chest for a second. This feels like the last time we can walk away and not change our relationship irrevocably. Although the past months have been filled with sweet kisses and talk of what we want to happen, now we’re here, I need to be sure she wants this too.

I can’t ignore the reality that after she leaves me, if her relationship with my brother progresses to marriage and forever, the fact will remain that I fell in love with my sister-in-law. I slept with her and tried to build a future together that was never mine to have. My conscience rears its unfamiliar head again. I’ve second-guessed myself more since meeting Samantha than I have during my whole life.

She brings out a part of me I both love and hate, a man who yearns for love with a woman who loves him too. The joy of normal family life. A man who constantly questions what’s right and who puts others before himself. It’s not what I ever saw myself being or becoming. The asshole is making way for the gentleman, but the man coming forward knows he’s going to get hurt. That fact isn’t enough to stop him craving the love he shouldn’t have.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Trouble?” I ask. She drops her eyes to the floor, and I place a finger under her chin to lift them back to meet mine. “Because say no now, and I’ll stand down. I’ll take you back to Connor, kiss you goodbye, and we can forget this happened.”

“I could never forget,” she mumbles.

“We can try. My brother deserves happiness, and so do you; this is a complication none of us need.” I drop my hand away and step back. My sanity, for once, surfaces. Her hands snap forward, grabbing my arms, and her fingers lock tight to my skin.

“No,” she hisses. “You promised. You promised that once you had the cast removed, we would take things further. Why put the time into getting to know me? Why look out for me if you planned to walk away. Was it all the fun of the chase? And now that you have me here, in your home, willing to sleep with you, have I lost your interest?”

“You could never lose my interest, Trouble,” I reply simply. “I’ve thought about this day more times than I wish to admit.”

“Well, fucking stop thinking about it and start living it.”

“But…”

“No more buts, what ifs, or excuses. I’m standing here in front of you saying yes. Take my word as the truth and enjoy me. We need this, both of us.”

“It’s all so fucked up,” I mutter, glancing over the city rooftops.

“Someone was always going to get hurt,” she challenges.

“From the moment I decided to allow my infatuation to take me to Guilty Pleasures, yes, I made sure someone was going to get hurt.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she whispers angrily.

“Maybe not, but it’s the truth.” I close my eyes, turning my face upward and allowing the soft summer rays to warm my skin. My head tells me that no matter her argument, I need to take her hand and lead her to my brother’s apartment. I must remove her from my life before I take this final step. But my soul knows that no matter how reformed I feel, this is one experience I’m not willing to give up.

When I reopen my eyes, I find her standing, still holding my arms, but with tears on her cheeks. She sniffles softly.

“Don’t give up on me,” she says sadly.

“Letting you go isn’t giving up on you. It’s giving you freedom. It’s protecting my heart and yours. It is protecting you from making a choice.” She doesn’t respond, but her fingers loosen a fraction. I will her to hold on, to show me that she doesn’t agree. For once, I’m looking to be led. “The last thing I want to be is more pain in your life.”

“That result is inevitable.” Unable to stomach her hurt or my own, I do what I knew I always would. I pull my arms from her grip, then take her face in my palms. “Don’t do this,” she mumbles against my lips.

“I don’t think I could walk away now if my life depended on it,” I growl, then take her mouth with mine. We kiss, but it’s not sweet, slow, or sensual like most of our precious moments. Our lips collide, our tongues roaming together, wanting more with each taste. Her arms wrap around my neck as I lock mine around her middle, holding her soft body close enough that I feel every inch of her. “You, Trouble, are the most beautiful woman ever created. No one will ever convince me otherwise.”

“I told you I didn’t believe you,” she replies against my lips. Her warm breath touching my skin.

“Didn’t believe what?”

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