Page 38 of Love Undercover
It was absolute insanity that thoughts about Chase like that were running through her head. Not only had he kidnapped her, but he was an undercover FBI agent, and that meant unending complications she really shouldn’t mix herself up in. Especiallysince she’d already unintentionally gotten herself tied up with the criminal element.
She pulled her shirt over her head and wondered if there was something wrong with her. She had clearly never really known Greg, even after dating for over a year. A waste of time, but still. And now she was havingthoughtsabout a man she barely knew, even if she was sure now that Chase was a good guy in all of this.
At some point during their trek back to the house, she’d finally allowed herself to believe his story. Everything had been pointing to him being trustworthy, but she’d been fighting it as hard as she was fighting herself. Even if he was pretending he was a bad guy for the benefit of other people, he’d shown himself to be completely different.
Her experience with Greg had been the other way around. By the time things had ended with him, she’d realized how terrible of a boyfriend—of a person—he’d been. But it had taken so much longer for her to see it.
She stood cautiously to shimmy her filthy pants down her hips, gritting her teeth against the pain in her ankle when she touched her toes to the floor, and then mentally cursed Greg for putting her in this position.
He’d been sneaking into her apartment, tying her to his nefarious activity so she’d be thrown into the path of mobsters and criminals. Not to mention the feds. Unbelievable.
The process of showering was awkward as she balanced herself, but it went quickly as she stewed and simmered over the ways that Greg had screwed her over, had messed up her mind and her heart. But even before she knew about all of this nonsense, she’d had the strength to walk away. If only it had severed all ties like she’d thought it had.
She shut the water off and pulled the towel from the rack, drying off slowly, vacillating between sadness and anger thateverything had culminated to this moment. But she reminded herself that she was at least safe.
Cared for, she added, thinking of how Chase had carted her back to the house after buying her the items she’d requested, then had helped treat her ankle, lent her clothes. Catered to her, even after she’d tried to run. What a strange turn of events, really.
She shook her head as she hobbled toward the bedroom to put on the new set of underwear then the clothes Chase had lent her. They smelled clean and so like him that she paused to take it in, almost knocked sideways by that mix of scents. She hadn’t realized she’d discerned a distinct fragrance that was quintessentially him, but it hit her full force as she stood in his room, in his safe house in the woods, and now in his clothes.
He was woodsy and salty, a forest by the sea. It stirred that want in her bones that she was still grappling with, still so shocked by.
There was a tentative knock on the door, and she spun as if she’d been caught stealing.
14
Control and the Hippie Life
Sadie’s strangled voice called for Chase to enter, but the odd tone made him hesitate.
He pushed the door open slowly just in case he’d misheard her, but she was already turned toward him when he peeked around, an attractive shade of pink coloring her cheeks. He was finding how easily she flushed with embarrassment incredibly appealing. As if she needed anything else to draw him to her.
She fiddled with the hem of the shirt that belonged to him. It fell almost to her knees, which were totally obscured by the basketball shorts that bagged around her, coming halfway down her calves. The clothes were wearing her rather than the other way around, but it stirred a weird heat inside of him.
A sudden flash of another life played like a movie in his mind’s eye. A life outside of undercover work, away from the seedy world he’d known for far too long. A life where he came home to someone every day—someone who loved him, who worehis clothes for comfort as she lounged around the house they shared.
When he snapped out of the vision, he was standing in front of Sadie, reaching with starved hands before he came to his senses and stopped himself.
Her face tipped up in anticipation, her lips parting the perfect amount that equated to invitation, and he was ready to devour that mouth. He resisted—barely—but his face was only a few inches from hers, their breath mingling. He had to be sure he wasn’t reading her wrong.
“Why did you stop?” she whispered. Her fingers brushed against his stomach, and his senses reacted like she’d shot currents of electricity through him.
“I. . .” He couldn’t form the words after that. And maybe because he’d felt so out of control when he found himself right in front of her. Being out of control was one of his least favorite things.
Tentatively, her hands began to travel over his stomach, feeling along the rigid muscles there. She never took her eyes from his, but her mouth formed a little “O” that called to him, luring with a pulsing need for more.
And so he relinquished control, releasing every lock he’d ever had in place, and let their lips collide. To his shock, every part of him sailed into a new plane of existence as her lips parted to let him in for exploration, and her taste, minty like she’d just brushed her teeth and something else he couldn’t name, almost knocked him to his knees. His greedy hands slid under the shirt that was practically a dress on her, craving the feel of her skin under his palms.
The way his body had been crying out for hers hadn’t been obvious to him until this moment, when he was finally getting a taste, and he worried it would never be enough as the ache built deep in his blood, lighting every nerve ending on fire.
Her skin was as smooth as he thought it would be, warm and silky, and her curves dipped and rounded under his hands as he explored her. She tipped her head back to give his mouth access to the sweetness of her throat, and he willingly consumed, drowning in the thirst, the hunger, the absolute urgency scoring him from the inside.
More. He wanted more. More of her body exposed, more of her hands on him, more of his on her. He wanted to savor, to dive deep and never resurface.
That feeling like he would combust came over him again, an unrelenting heat that blazed bright and painful and intoxicating.
He swept her off her feet—literally—gripping the back of her thighs so that he could lay her back on the bed and settled himself between her legs, careful to keep his weight from crushing her.
She moved restlessly under him, her hands twisting in his shirt like she didn’t know where to hold on as he slid a palm along her rib cage, brushing the side of her breast. Her breath came in short, hot gasps against his ear as he continued feasting on the skin of her throat down to her collarbone and back, tasting her like his body begged.
