Page 67 of Check & Chase
“I didn’t think you would.” He steps closer. “It looks good on you, Blondie.”
“Your teammate seemed particularly impressed.”
Chase’s expression darkens. “I saw. He give you trouble?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“I don’t doubt it.” His free hand comes up to touch the sleeve of the jersey, fingers trailing up my arm. “But I’m still going to have a word with him.”
“Don’t. It’s what we wanted, right? For him to believe we’re together?”
“Right,” he agrees, though something flickers in his eyes. “Is that all it is, though? For show?”
After Halloween night, after the way he looked at me tonight, it seems inadequate to call this merely a performance. But admitting anything else feels too dangerous.
“You tell me. This was your idea, remember?”
Chase steps even closer, eliminating what little space remained between us. His hand moves to my waist, firm and possessive.
“My idea,” he repeats, voice dropping to a rasp. “But seeing you in my jersey makes me want to forget all the rules we set.”
My breath catches. “Chase—”
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me tonight? Sitting on that bench, watching you with my name on your back. Knowing everyone in that arena thinks you’re mine.”
Heat pools low in my belly at the possessiveness in his tone. “Just for show, right?”
“Is that what you want it to be?” His gaze drops to my lips. “Because right now, all I can think about is taking you home and fucking you while you’re still wearing my jersey.”
The crude words send a shock of pure want through me. Instead of being offended, I hear myself say, “Is that so?”
“God, yes.” His hand slides to the small of my back, pulling me against him until I can feel exactly how much he wants me. “I’d have you keep just the jersey on. Nothing else. Would bend you over and take you from behind so I could see my name on your back while I’m inside you.”
My thighs clench at the vivid image. “Chase—”
“Mitchell! Media’s waiting, man.”
We spring apart as Donovan rounds the corner. “Sorry to interrupt, but Coach wants you for the post-game stuff.”
Chase sighs, frustration evident. “Be right there.” He turns back to me. “Rain check on this conversation?”
I nod, torn between relief and disappointment. “I should get home anyway.”
“Wait for me?” he asks, then leans in to press a quick kiss to my cheek. “Thanks for wearing my jersey, Emma. Means more than you know.”
As I watch him walk away, I reach up to touch the spot where his lips brushed my skin. It tingles, as if marked by something more significant than a casual goodbye.
Maya’s right. This is getting complicated. Lines blurring, feelings developing where they shouldn’t.
But I can’t bring myself to regret any of it. Whatever this is, I’m in too deep to turn back now. All I can do is hold on and hope that when our agreed-upon end date arrives, I’ll be able to walk away with my heart intact.
Though even that is starting to feel like a lie I tell myself.
Chase
Chapter Thirteen
The press conference feels like it lasts three lifetimes. All I can think about is Emma waiting for me somewhere in the building, still wearing my jersey, her words from our interrupted conversation playing on repeat in my mind.
