Page 109 of Check & Chase
“I’m going to marry you one day, Emma Anderson.”
Chase’s words keep replaying in my head as I lie perfectly still, pretending to sleep while my heart hammers against my ribs. His breathing has evened out now, slow and steady beneath my ear where my head rests on his chest. The decorative fireplace sits cold and useless across from us, while the storm continues its relentless howling outside.
Marriage.
I should be terrified. Running for the hills, figuratively if not literally given the three feet of snow currently blocking the door. After Tyler, I was adamantly opposed to dating hockey players ever again. Then Chase and I decided to fake a relationship for mutual convenience.
Now he’s talking about forever, and the strangest part is that it doesn’t send me into a panic. Instead, there’s a warmth spreading through my chest that has nothing to do with our shared blankets.
I fall asleep to the sound of Chase’s heartbeat, steady and reassuring as a lullaby.
When I wake, winter sunlight filters through frost-covered windows, creating intricate crystal patterns that sparkle like diamonds. The storm has passed, leaving behind a world transformed. Snow is piled so high itreaches halfway up the glass, turning the familiar view into something from a fairy tale.
Chase still sleeps soundly beside me, his injured leg propped on pillows, one arm curled possessively around my waist. In the light, I study his face—the stubble darkening his jaw, the healing cut near his temple, the fan of dark lashes against his cheeks. Even bruised and sleeping, he’s unfairly beautiful, like something carved from marble by an artist who understood perfection.
My phone vibrates from somewhere in the pile of blankets. I extract myself carefully from Chase’s hold, the movement causing him to stir but not wake. The message is from the power company:restoration efforts underway, but many areas will remain without electricity for at least another twenty-four hours.
The house is frigid away from our blanket nest. My breath creates small clouds in the air as I pad to the window, wrapping my arms around myself for warmth. The world outside looks postcard-perfect—pristine white stretching as far as I can see, broken only by the skeletal branches of trees heavy with snow.
“Morning.” Chase’s sleep-rough voice startles me. I turn to find him watching me through half-lidded eyes, hair adorably mussed, looking rumpled and sexy in ways that should be illegal. “How long have you been awake for?”
“Just a few minutes.” I return to our nest of blankets, grateful for the immediate warmth. “Power’s still out.”
“Mmm,” he acknowledges, pulling me closer until I’m flush against his side. His body heat seeps through the thin fabric of his borrowed hoodie, chasing away the morning chill. “Roads probably still closed too. Looks like you’re stuck with me another day.”
“However will I survive?”
“I can think of a few ways to pass the time.” His hand slips under the hem of the hoodie I’m wearing, warm fingers tracing lazy patterns on my lower back that make me shiver for entirely different reasons.
“Chase,” I warn, though the touch sends pleasant heat spiraling through me. “You’re still recovering.”
“Brain’s feeling great this morning,” he murmurs, lips finding the spot just below my ear that makes me melt. His breath is warm against my skin, carrying the masculine scent that’s become as familiar as home. “No headache, no dizziness.”
“Your knee…”
“Can stay elevated right where it is.” His teeth graze my earlobe, sending electricity down my spine. “I don’t need to move to make you feel good, Blondie.”
The nickname combined with his touch breaks down my medical resolve. I should maintain some semblance of responsibility, but Chase’s lips are trailing down my neck, pressing kisses to the sensitive skin that pulse in time with my heartbeat.
“Fine,” I concede, earning a triumphant chuckle against my collarbone. “But you stay put. I’ll be in charge.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His dimple appears, boyish and charming despite the heat in his eyes. “I do love it when you get all bossy.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, straddling his hips carefully to avoid his injured knee.
“Make me.”
So I do, capturing his mouth in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly turns desperate, needy. Chase groans into my mouth, his hands settling on my hips, guiding me against the hardness already evident beneath his sweatpants. The friction sends heat pooling low in my belly, making me arch against him instinctively.
We’ve been here before—stolen moments between recovery milestones, always with limits, always stopping short of what we both want. This morning feels different. The storm, the confession I wasn’t meant to hear, his healing—it all makes normal rules seem meaningless.
“I want you,” he groans against my lips, his voice rough with desire. “Right here, right now.”
“Then don’t wait,” I counter, rocking my hips against him in a motion that makes him hiss through his teeth.
His eyes go dark, pupils dilating until only a thin ring of blue remains. His grip on my hips tightens, pulling me flush against him. “You have no idea what you do to me, Emma.”
Heat shoots through me at the raw honesty in his voice. “Good thing I’m not going anywhere then.”
