Page 110 of Check & Chase
“Damn right you’re not,” he growls, his hands sliding up my sides with reverent touch. “Off,” he demands, tugging at the hem of my hoodie. “I need to see you.”
I pull it over my head, revealing the fact that I’m wearing nothing underneath. The cool air makes me shiver, but Chase’s sharp intake of breath is worth the momentary discomfort.
“Christ,” he breathes, eyes moving over my skin like a physical caress. “You’re fucking perfect.”
He pulls me down, his mouth latching onto my nipple while his hand works the other one. Pleasure shoots straight to my core, sharp and sweet, making me gasp and arch into him. His tongue swirls around the hardened peak, alternating between gentle flicks and firm pressure that has me writhing against him.
“Chase,” I moan, fingers tangling in his dark hair. The strands are silk-soft between my fingers, and I use my grip to guide him exactly where I need him.
“I know,” he murmurs against my breast, the vibration adding another layer to the sensations flooding my system. “Tell me what you want, baby.”
I grind against him in response, feeling his hardness through the layers of fabric that suddenly seem like far too much barrier between us.
“Pants off,” he commands, hands sliding to my leggings with purpose.
I hesitate, suddenly self-conscious despite everything we’ve already shared. He catches it immediately, hands stilling, concern replacing the heat in his eyes.
“We don’t have to, Emma,” he assures me, voice gentle despite the strain of holding back. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
His sincerity breaks down the last of my walls. This is Chase, who protected my brother without hesitation, who listens when I talk about my father, who whispered about marriage when he thought I couldn’t hear. I trust him completely, with my body and my heart.
“I want to,” I tell him, sealing the words with a quick, fierce kiss. “Just… I’m nervous.”
“I’ve got you,” he promises, and I believe him completely. “If you want to stop at any point, we’ll stop.”
He helps me out of my leggings with gentle efficiency, leaving me in just white cotton underwear. Chase doesn’t seem to mind—his eyes are full of appreciation, desire, and something deeper that makes my chest tight with emotion.
“Now who’s overdressed?” I tug at his shirt, eager to see more of him.
“Help me?” he asks, gesturing to his elevated position and injured knee.
We manage to get his shirt off without aggravating his injuries, exposing the broad expanse of his chest. The bruising has faded to yellows and greens, no longer the angry purples they were weeks ago. I trace one with gentle fingers, marveling at how much healing can happen in such a short time.
“Does it still hurt?”
“The only thing hurting right now,” he confesses, voice rough with want, “is how badly I need you.”
His bluntness breaks down the last of my hesitation. I kiss him harder, tongue tangling with his.
“Let me take care of you,” he whispers against my lips, guiding my hips up with gentle pressure. “Come up here, baby.”
I realize what he wants and flush hot, heat spreading from my cheeks down my neck. “Chase, I can’t…”
“You can,” he encourages, hands steady and reassuring on my thighs. “Trust me. Let me make you feel good.”
I follow his guidance until I’m hovering above his face, feeling exposed but excited, vulnerability and desire warring in my chest.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, hands gripping my thighs with reverent touch. “So fucking beautiful.”
He urges me down, his mouth finding me through my underwear. Even through the fabric, the touch sends pleasure racing up my spine like lightning. I gasp, hands flying to his hair for balance.
“These need to go,” Chase murmurs against the damp cotton, tugging at the waistband. I help him remove them with shaking hands, then move back into position, my heart hammering against my chest.
The first touch of his tongue against my pussy nearly buckles my knees. I gasp, but Chase steadies me, pulling me down onto his mouth like he’s starving for the taste of me.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, the vibration making me shudder and moan. “You taste so fucking good. Let go for me.”
I do, letting myself fall apart as his mouth works magic between my legs. His tongue is clever and insistent, finding every spot that makes me cry out. My fingers dig into his hair as sounds tear from my throat—wordless pleas and his name repeated like a prayer.
