Page 69 of Eye Candy

Making her wait all day for this was worth it. My brat was, foronce, pliant. “I know calling you mine is problematic,” I said between kisses.

“I don’t give a Fred Astaire, Chase. I trust you.”

“I adore you,” I replied simply.

Caroline gripped me tightly, hearing the too-earnest note in my voice. “You do?”

She heard what I wasn’t saying as much as I was. But this was as close as I dared to go for now. “You don’t have to worry anymore.” I kissed her head. “I’ll look after you.”

She stayed quiet.

“Say something,” I prompted, starting to worry.

She shook her head, blinking rapidly. I wondered if I’d made a terrible mistake, if I’d been too obvious, too intense. In other words, too Sanford.

Shit.

I made a herculean effort to bottle the panic and concentrated on the feeling of our bodies, pressed together like this, my cock hard and desperate to be inside her. “Never mind now. Just tell me what you need to get that sweet pussy slick.”

“I— I— need you,” she stuttered. “I always need you.”

Satisfaction burned in my gut. “Yeah?”

I sat up on my haunches, looking down at her. My messy, perfect little hellion. Loose with the truth and armed with a moral compass I could barely comprehend, but I was obsessed with her anyway. I rolled my hips, stroking her until she was moaning. Caroline gripped my arms and tried to pull me down to her, rolling her hips to press her wet heat against my cock. Usually that would be the final straw for my self-control, but I wasn’t done admiring her. And if she wasn’t able to put into words how she felt about me, I would make her give me all her other confessions instead.

“Elaborate,” I demanded.

“I like how you stare at me. You’re always so polite to everyone, so aloof. But you stare at me like you’re imagining stripping me down and fucking me on the floor.”

Despite my state, I barked a laugh. She only used a real swear word when she was really unwound. “I probably am.”

She reached up and cupped my face. “My horny Mr. Moral.”

I lined my cock up with her entrance. Slowly, eyes locked, I pushed as her body pulled me in. Even though she couldn’t say it, I could see her heart in her eyes. She felt something for me. I knew she did.

“I don’t have any more words, Chase,” she whispered. She kissed me then, and it felt like stretching out in the sun in Majorca. I’d held back as best I could, but I was only human. I came way before she did, but kept playing her body until, shuddering, she followed me over the edge. After, under the covers, she kept kissing me as if she couldn’t bear a lack of contact between us for too long. I wrapped her in my arms and she curled her legs around me, nestling into my body like she was a part of me.

Entwined like that, we fell into the night.

Those days with her in Canada were the best. If I’d known how numbered they were, I would have tied her to my bed or cut up her passport. Or both.

CAROLINE

I wokeup because I needed to pee. I always drank a lot of water because Lyssa insisted I do it for my skin, but it meant I had the bladder of a child and got up multiple times per night. When I tiptoed back from the bathroom, Chase was awake too. I thought he’d drop back to sleep, but instead, we started talking. I lay on my front, my chin on Chase’s chest as he ran a hand up and down my arm. It was the wee hours of the morning, but neither of us were showing any signs of wanting to go back to sleep. Whocared if we were tired later? We didn’t have anywhere urgent to be! I was unemployed and he was rich.

After last night, neither of us had the energy for more sex, so in the cool blue light of the early morning, I finally asked the question I’d been tossing over.

“Was your parents’ divorce the first one for your dad?”

“It was. I was six, so I don’t really remember them together. Dad moved to New York afterwards, and Mom and I stayed in Canada. When I turned ten though, Dad wanted me to go to school in New York. He was with Joe’s mom then, and Joe was about three. Mom didn’t want to only see me on break, so she moved to New York. Dad bought her a place around the block—a townhouse, like she wanted. I spent the week with Dad and weekends and holidays with Mom. That was the deal. A year after that, when Dad left Joe’s mom, Joe got the same deal. Well, sort of.”

“Sort of?” I asked softly.

“Cody Trunk, Joe’s mom—I call her Dr. Cody, she’s a pediatrician now—she couldn’t stay in New York. She was a grad student at NYU at the time, and she got accepted for premed at Johns Hopkins. Joe was only four, and she went. I know why she had to. I understand. I’m not sure that Joe does.”

His body, so languid and relaxed before, was now tense, like he expected me to say something judgmental, but I kept my mouth shut.Iknew he wasn’t his dad.

I wondered if he did.

---