Page 18 of Mind

“You have my cum on your face,” he laughs, holding his thumb up to show me.

I swoop in, quick like a ninja, and lick the salty substance off his thumb, until it’s clean.

He looks at me baffled and full of lust, his eyes turning that dangerous shade of dark blue. “That was ridiculously hot,” he pulls me on top of his chest and kisses me, long, hard, and deep. Round two just started.

Gillian

Hours later, Chase and I are en route to brunch with his mother. I’m still reeling from the sex marathon we had this morning while enjoying how the scenery changes from concrete, brick, and glass, to lush trees and mansions as we leave the confines of the city. The street that leads to his Uncle Charles’ mansion is lined with ornate black iron light posts and perfectly manicured lawns and houses surrounded by bush after bush of roses. I hate roses. Nothing that beautiful should be so painful. Now that my stalker has chosen them as his calling card, they are the last thing I want to see, although it fits the mood of having to go see his mother.

The gates to the Davis mansion are located at the end of the street. The house sits atop a long hill like a castle, watching over the land. Pretentious. Chase’s Uncle Charles is a good man. Taking him in when his mother was in the hospital all those years ago, and his Dad in prison for her attempted murder, truly shows the depth of love he has for his nephew. Having been the primary male figure in Chase’s early life puts him high on my “people to cherish” pedestal.

Jack opens the car door and we exit. Chase clasps my hand and leads me up the stairs to the entrance. A small grin slants across his face. I love seeing him happy, a bit carefree even. I playfully nudge my shoulder against his, earning me a full, take-my-breath-away, smile. God, he’s beautiful. Instead of knocking, Chase enters as if he owns the place. I guess since he grew up here it’s like coming home.

As we walk through the parlor, I’m once again reminded of the vast Davis wealth. There is a double winding staircase at the entrance with huge, oil canvases, crawling up the walls. Probably all original pieces. Priceless antique furniture, paired with contemporary pieces, fills the large rooms. I try to imagine four young boys and a little girl running through these rooms and halls. It seems far too regal to allow for children.

“Did the house look like this when you were growing up?” I ask Chase as he leads me towards the back of the house, a section I hadn’t been to previously.

“No. Once we were grown, my mother redecorated. My aunt had made the mansion very livable for her four children prior to her death. The moment we were teens and Mother had recovered completely, she made it her pet project. By then, my aunt had already passed away.”

Made a lot of sense as to why everything seemed so stuffy. It fit the woman who designed it. I couldn’t imagine growing up in a house where you were afraid to sit on the furniture. Mom was always a fan of creature comforts and fuzzy fabrics. That thought reminded me that I needed to put a little of me into the penthouse and unload some of my boxes from the move.

“When can I decorate the penthouse?”

Chase stops, spins around on one foot and kisses me. His hand tunnels into my hair as he deepens the kiss. Once we’re both breathless, he pulls back leaning his forehead against mine.

“What was that for?” Not that I mind, but it was odd timing.

“Baby, I love hearing you speak about things that ensure you’re a permanent part of my life. You can do whatever you want to the penthouse, but don’t get too wild.”

He tugs my hand, and I follow down a long hallway. I feel like a rat in a maze, or as if I’m playing a game of follow the leader.

“I would never spend too much money.” The thought he’d worry makes me frown. “Besides, I have my own money. I do work.”

“God, you are too cute.” He laughs, and this time I stop and yank him to a halt.

My eyebrows knit together, and I sling a hand to my hip. “What does that mean?”

Chase takes a deep breath and smiles. “Baby, once we’re married we’re going to be house shopping or building a home. A place that’s you and me. Yesterday when you mentioned having my children”—he clasps my hand—“all I’ve been able to think about is seeing your gorgeous body swollen with my child. My baby growing inside of you.” He shakes his head and his gaze searches mine. “God, you’d be sexy.”

That was not at all what I was expecting. Now he wants a home and babies? “Who are you and what did you do with my fiancé? The workaholic, master of his empire, sex God, that guy. Where’d he go?”

Lightning fast, Chase pulls me to him, hands clasped above my bum. “I’m all those things, but I also want a home. A place where we can always come back to after our travels, after a long work day. We’ll raise our children there, once we choose to have them.” His jaw tightens, and when he continues his voice is uncertain. “Is that not what you want?”

I’m quick to respond. “That’s everything I ever wanted, Chase. And to have it with you…” my voice clogs with emotion.

“I know, baby. I know.” And he does. He’s right there with me, learning this new thing. Finding out that it’s okay to want the American dream. The house, the 2.5 kids and a picket fence. Even masters of their universe want a home and a family.

“Come on, Mother will be waiting and she detests when people are tardy.”

Reminds me of someone else I know. Trying not to roll my eyes I follow his stride, holding his hand tightly. Chase and I are moving towards our future. Nothing is going to ruin this moment.

Chapter 6

Gillian

Boy was I wrong. The second we enter the “Sun Room” we’re greeted by a sour-faced Colleen Davis.

“Mother!” Chase says jovially, making his way to his mom. She’s sitting in a high back armchair. It’s a pristine white, with shimmery golden lines running vertically, mimicking a circus tent print. I’d be afraid to sit in it, let alone enjoy a cup of coffee, for fear I’d stain it.

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