Текст книги "Give Me Yesterday"
Автор книги: K. Webster
Соавторы: Elle Christensen
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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 15 страниц)
He grins and taps the tip of my nose; one more thing I find adorable and don’t want to. “I’ll be right downstairs if you need any help.” I roll my eyes, push him out the door, and slam it in his chortling face.
The T-shirt could be a freaking nightgown, coming half way down my thighs, and the sweat pants have to be rolled down to get them to stay on my hips. I avoid the mirror when I leave the room, confident I’ll have a panic attack should I see what I currently look like.
Chase had told me when we’d visited the living room that it was where our project would be. I pad down the hallway to the room and find him laying drop cloths over the furniture, the supplies already set out. I move closer to the wall, studying it, and then running my fingers over the coating. “This paint looks practically new, Chase. Why does it need another coat?”
Chase is pouring paint and assembling rollers, but he mutters, “It was the wrong fucking color.” I wait for more explanation, wondering at his aggressive tone, but receive none. He finishes his task and hands me a paint roller. “We’ll hit the main sections and then do the edges by the tape.”
I reluctantly take my tool, my nose scrunching in disgust, then with a sigh, I get to work. The rhythmic movement and the soft swish of the roller is actually quite soothing and we chit chat about nothing as we move closer to each other, finishing up when we meet in the center.
Chase looks from the wall to me and bursts out laughing, the sound deep and husky, full of rich sound. His laugh is seriously a turn on, and it’s also quite infectious. I know what he’s seeing, but I play innocent.
“What?” I ask with a small pout.
“All that paint, how the hell did you get more on you than the wall?” he shakes his head, still snickering. “So fucking cute.”
Without warning, he slides his hand around my neck and tugs me to him, bending and landing his mouth over mine. I stiffen for just a moment and he pulls back immediately, regarding me thoughtfully. There is raging lust swirling in his chocolate depths and something inside me snaps. He must feel it too, because the next second, there is no air between us. I’m plastered up against his body, his hands diving into my hair, scattering pins all over. Our mouths are attacking one another’s—tongues tangling, breaths choppy—whenever we take the chance to suck in some air. A tingling starts at my lips, spreading through my head, down my neck and shoulders, to my breasts where my nipples become hard, then down to my center where my wet pussy is soaking my panties.
I feel as though I’ve found an oasis of fresh, clean water after having walked in the desert for an eternity. Chase moves forward, until I find my back pressed up against the wall—not the freshly painted one thank God—and his hands slide through my hair, down my throat, running his palms over my aching breasts, then traveling around and down to grab my ass. He molds his hands over the cheeks, yanking me forward even as his body presses me harder into the wall. With the tiniest lift, my legs automatically circle his waist.
Holy fuck. Oh shit, fuckity fuck.
An exceptionally large, scorching, bulge snaps right up tight to my center. Shivers rush through me from tip to toe, becoming shakes, and growing in strength. Then with a rock of his hips, I splinter apart with an all-consuming orgasm, the world turning into a kaleidoscope of color, spinning and making me dizzy.
As the feeling subsides, I attempt to calm my racing heart and breathe normally. That’s when I register that we aren’t moving, everything is still. I open my eyes and Chase is staring at me, his face full of shock and wonder.
“That is hands down the sexiest damn thing I have ever seen in my life, baby.” He continues to watch me and I begin to feel the effects of what has just happened. Guilt flushes through me and I wiggle, trying to let him know I want to be put down.
He groans and buries his face in my neck, his breath tickling and teasing me. “Don’t move like that, Tori. I’m hanging by a thread here.”
I immediately still. “Please put me down, Chase.” I ask calmly despite the panicking lunatic I’m barely able to contain. I keep my tone light, but there is no mistaking the tension.
Chase’s head flies up, and the dark brown of his eyes are swirling with questions. I can’t keep his gaze and look over his shoulder to avoid more eye contact.
“Tori.”
I cock my head to indicate that I’m listening, but don’t speak.
“Tori, look at me.” He shakes me just a little and I furrow my brows in annoyance at being forced to face him.
Whatever he sees brings sadness to his eyes and he slowly releases my legs, sliding them slowly to the ground. The sadness is still there, but it’s being pushed away by determination, and he grabs onto my face with both hands.
“Don’t, for one second, think that this was a mistake. It was amazing and I swear to all that is holy, it will happen again. There is something here, baby, and, I’m not going to let you ignore it.”
My eyes begin to slide away again.
“Tori, look at me.” His voice is firm and my eyes come back to his in surprise. “This is happening, and you need to learn to accept it. Because eventually, we’ll make it up to the bedroom where I have more pleasure in store for you.”
I don’t—I can’t think straight. He can’t replace Ben, I don’t want him too. This is all wrong, that feeling from Sunday was a fluke. I shake my head at Chase and rip myself from his hands. I open my mouth, but have nothing. I don’t know what to say. So I bolt from the room, into the half bath, and slam the door shut. Sinking to the ground, the dam that was cracking bursts free and anguish takes hold, drowning me.
Well, shit.
Running a hand through my not-just-fucked hair, I groan and stare at the bathroom door.
Forty-five minutes.
The first fifteen minutes were spent with me begging her to open the door and to let me talk to her. The last half hour, I’ve only been listening. And waiting.
She’ll have to come out sooner or later and when she does, I’ll be the one to catch her.
Her crying has long since turned from sobs to sniffles, and now to silence.
“I’ll have to start charging you by the hour,” I tease, but anxiety infects my veins and I press my forehead to the cold wood of the door silently praying she’ll answer.
When I’m met with silence again, I stalk down the hallway and pick up my phone. A short while later, I’ve ordered pizza and am back at the door.
I try a different tactic. “Tori, if you don’t open the door, I’ll break it down.”
Shuffling noises resound on the other side and I grin at the prospect of her unlocking the door. Instead, I’m met with attitude.
“Leave me alone, Chase. I want to go home but I don’t want to see you. Not like this,” she snips out in what must feel like an angry bite to her. To me, the sadness in her words is almost palpable. I want to reach out and grab them. Clutch them to me and hold them.
“Babe, you need—”
“I. Am. Not. Your. Babe,” she hisses through the door.
With a resigned sigh, I decide to do what I promised myself forty-five minutes ago I wouldn’t do. Stalking toward my toolbox in the living room, I grumble at the idea of damaging my door frame.
I locate my flathead screwdriver and storm back to the bathroom.
“Last chance, Tori. Open the door.”
Silence.
“Suit yourself,” I huff.
Jamming the flat end of the screwdriver between the door and the frame near the doorknob, I yank it until the wood splinters and cracks.
“What are you doing?” she snaps through the door.
Set on my task, I jimmy it some more until light briefly peeks through. With one heave of my shoulder, it cracks the frame enough to free the door. I stumble inside to find her sitting on the lid of the toilet, still donning her adorable painting outfit.
The woman looks good in just about anything but wearing my clothes—that’s just fucking hot as hell. Inside me, the alpha roars with pride at seeing her in my clothes, as if she’s marked with my scent.
Her eyes are open wide in shock. “You broke your door!”
Smirking at her, I shrug my shoulders. “I’ve done worse. Are you hungry?”
Not giving Tori the chance to think is what’s gotten me as far as I have with her. And now, as I change the subject of her breakdown which resulted in locking herself in my bathroom for an hour, she falters and shakes her head. “No, I, uh… need to go.”
She stands but I lean against the broken door frame and inspect her tear-stained, swollen red face. Blonde hairs are an unkempt mess and my fingers twitch to free the rest of them. The woman is even more beautiful than when she’s all put together, wreaking havoc on the poor souls who cross her.
“You’re not going anywhere until I feed you,” I tell her in a firm tone and take a step toward her.
She eyes me warily but doesn’t move. Seeing my opportunity, I don’t waste any more time and prowl the rest of the way over to her. Her hands go up in protest, but I encircle her waist with mine and haul her to me. When she’s plastered against my chest—where she belongs—I hug her to me and kiss the top of her head.
Despite her earlier freak-out, she melts in my arms and rests her cheek on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she barely manages through an emotional whisper.
Shaking my head, I stroke her back. “Nothing to be sorry for.”
We remain in silence and then I decide to take those damn pins out of her hair. At first, when I begin pulling them out, she struggles in my arms. Eventually, though, she resigns herself to letting me take them out.
“I want to see you,” I murmur. Both inside and out.
She tugs away from me and regards me with tears welling in her eyes. “This isn’t me,” she tries to explain.
But it is.
This is the part of her that claws to be released, yet the Ice Queen keeps her shackled in the recesses of her mind.
Pulling her back to me, I then slide my palms up her neck and tilt her head up so I can see her better.
“Nobody can be strong all of the time. That’s why it’s in our human nature to seek another soul out there. Someone to be strong some of the time for us. Someone to share our burdens with,” I whisper, stroking each of her cheeks with my thumbs.
Her icy blue eyes shine like the bluest of seas. One day, I hope to take her to an exotic beach in the Caribbean just to see if it will dull the beauty of the ocean by being in direct comparison to the unmatched splendor that are her incredibly expressive eyes.
“You make me weak,” she breathes out, her sweet scent teasing me with my mouth just inches from hers.
Dipping my nose to hers, I graze it with mine. “I’m here to carry you.”
“What if I don’t want to be carried?” she mutters and her eyes flutter closed.
I don’t answer her and seal my lips against hers, kissing her with a softness that I hope conveys my promise to help her. A small moan escapes, and it’s far from sexual. It’s a moan releasing some of her strength—letting me be strong for her. Drawing her closer to me, I deepen our kiss, tangling my tongue with hers. Her fingers clutch onto my shirt, begging me not to let go.
I’m not ever going to fucking let go.
“Chase,” she mutters between kisses.
The sound is innocent and young. I want to protect her and hold her close to me without any desire to ever let go.
“I’m scared.”
This confuses me so I break from her and press a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. “Why are you scared, Tori?”
She sniffles but her hands trail up my chest to where she clutches onto my neck. “I’ve always been strong. For them. To keep their memory buried deep in my heart where it’s safe.”
I narrow my eyes at her and wait for her to continue, stealing another peck on her cheek.
“If I open myself up, give you part of my burden…” she trails off with a shudder, as if the very idea frightens her, “…I might lose them forever. What if it makes me forget? What I had with them? I don’t think there’s room for anything else. I’m so sorry.”
Her words gut me, but I won’t be deterred. She’s mine as far as I’m concerned. Nobody, not even Stalking Savvy, has ever come close to understanding my pain. Crushing loss. Self-loathing. Guilt and a desire to change the past—to reweave the threads of time and create a new masterpiece that includes them.
Tori gets my pain.
I get Tori’s pain.
Every Tuesday when I go visit the cemetery, I kick trees and punish the earth with my fists. I cry out to God and beg for him to rewind time. To give her a second chance at life.
Life’s not fair.
Mother’s words haunt me like always.
“Tori,” I press my lips to hers and then pull away to stare at her with a glare that expresses that I will not let her give up on me. “Sometimes being strong for the other person means determining what’s best for them, even when they think they know best. You’re already used to me manhandling you…”
She pops her mouth open to argue but I dive in for a kiss that I drain all of my passion and determination into. I need her to feel my strength—a strength I didn’t even know I possessed.
“…now it’s time for me to manhandle your heart.”
The doorbell rings and I reluctantly tear away from her. Her eyes are flitting about with a thousand thoughts dancing in her head.
“Jesus, Tori,” I chuckle in a way meant to poke at her. “Is that how you show up to all your dinner dates? Maybe you should put something more presentable on before we have dinner.”
Her more comfortable emotion, the feisty one that I love, rises to the surface and she flips me off. But it serves to break the thick tension.
“Asshole. I’m probably the best-looking date you’ve ever had,” she teases back with a smile, “even in this get-up.”
I wink at her. “There’s no denying that, baby. We both know who the good looking one in this relationship is.”
Before she can argue that I just declared us to be in a relationship, I bounce out of the small bathroom and trot to the front door to pay for the pizza.
I’ll fill that girl up one way or another.
Her belly.
Her heart.
And maybe a few other places too if I’m lucky.
Last night, Tori and I made great strides. The rest of the evening went on without a hitch. I think I’m growing on her. She let me steal kisses but I didn’t once try and push her for more. It was evident she was punishing herself for letting things progress. I don’t want her to regret anything when it comes to us. If that means going slower, then I’ll become a turtle.
A very handsy turtle that likes his tongue down her throat.
But a turtle nevertheless.
“Dr. Monroe,” a voice chirps, stealing me from my thoughts of Tori.
“Mmm?”
Mack plops down beside me at the table in the Media Center. It’s Wednesday and their projects are due this coming Friday. By the frustrated scowl on his face, I’d say he’s having issues.
“This sucks.”
I bellow with laughter but when the attendant at the desk shoots me a scathing look, I choke it back. “Of course it sucks. It’s a research paper. Research papers suck.”
He groans and shoves his paper at me. “How much more work do I have on this? I don’t think it’s good enough.”
I take it from him and spend the next few minutes reading through. In all honesty, he’s done an excellent job tackling the subject I warned them not to choose. I’d give him an A for the paper.
“It’s worth a low B,” I lie and shove it back across the table to him.
“Well, shit. Bs won’t get me the job at the hospital. What do I need to work on?”
Mack’s a great student despite his cutting up most of the time. “Research some more. Add some more citations. It could use a bit more meat.”
He nods, and with a new determination that will serve him well in his career, he bounds off, back toward the computers to continue his research.
“You lie for shit,” Cort laughs and sits next to me.
I shrug my shoulders. “It’s good for him. Did you finish yours?”
He nods. “Yep, but you don’t get it until it’s due. Unlike Mack over there, I know my paper is an A and I’m not letting you con me into doing more busy work.”
I chuckle and am on the receiving end of another nasty look from the attendant. With apologetic hands, I raise them and mouth I’m sorry to her. Her clipped nod indicates she accepts my apology but not to do it again or she’ll shove a dictionary up my ass.
“How’s the new chick?”
I’ve told him a little about Tori but didn’t want to divulge much. She still feels like my little secret. Just like my group. I want to protect and defend her against any would-be naysayers.
Not that Cort would ever have anything negative to say.
“Her name’s Tori,” I remind him, “and she’s special.”
“Like Savvy special?” he questions with a groan.
I hold back the eruption of laughter so I can keep my asshole a virgin. “No, you idiot. Special like could-be-the-one, special.”
His eyes widen in shock. “Well, I’ll be damned. Someone was up for the Chase after all.”
I beam at him and thread my fingers together behind my head, leaning back in my chair. Staring up at the ceiling I think of her sweet, swollen lips. The way she came apart in my arms from the simplest friction between us. If only she knew…I had so much more in my arsenal to make her feel again.
“Quite the opposite, man,” I sigh. “I’m doing all the chasing.”
“And she’s worth the Chase?”
Turning my head to him, I grin. “She’s worth every damn second.”
“Dr. Monroe,” Mrs. Schrage gasps when I saunter into her flower shop after class. “It’s Wednesday. I think.”
I chuckle because after years and years of coming here every Tuesday like clockwork, I’m sure she’s confused as to why I’m here on a Wednesday. Especially after having just been here yesterday.
“I need flowers. Happy ones. Ones that say, ‘You’re always on my mind and are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.’ Maybe some blue ones.”
She widens her eyes. Normally when I come in here, she has my order ready and we don’t converse much. Tuesdays usually leave me in a shitty mood and I’m sure it’s felt by all. Seeing me chipper probably sends more confusion bouncing around in her head.
“Um, well, let’s see. We have some tulips in your favorite color,” she starts but I wave her off.
“I want blue today.”
“Right, okay, well, we just had a shipment of the most gorgeous irises delivered today. Would you care to see them?”
I nod and lean against the counter while she shuffles off. Snatching a card from the rack, I scribble out a note to Tori.
Have dinner with me, beautiful. I hope these flowers brighten your day and you think of me no matter how hard you try not to. Pick you up at six. For the love of God, wear jeans woman. —C—
“Ahh,” Mrs. Schrager chirps, “here they are and they smell lovely.”
The moment I lay eyes on the dainty, blue flowers, I smile. They’ll compliment her bright blue eyes perfectly and hopefully bring a smile to her soft, pouty lips.
“I’ll take them.”
Back to myself, the woman I know and am comfortable with. I step through the glass doors of my office building, impeccably dressed in a maroon skirt with a slight flare just above the knee, white blouse, fitted jacket, subtle makeup, my standard five-inch stilettos, and not a hair out of place. I want to sigh at the feeling of safety, retreated behind my armor. This is my comfort zone.
I walk swiftly to the elevator, my heels clacking on the cold, marble floor. Every tap reminding me that Victoria, the Ice Queen, is back. I’ve left the messy, blubbering, vulnerable Tori back at Cha—that place I was last night. I’m not going to think about it, about him. Get it together Tor—Victoria.
In the elevator, I’m standing amongst a couple of first year associates from my firm, who are casting me curious glances, and one of the two girls even opens her mouth to speak to me. I lift a single brow and give them a frigid stare, effectively shutting her up before she can say anything. Great, Cha—that guy from yesterday, undermined the persona I’ve been cultivating for five damn years. Jackass. A sliver of guilt at my thoughts weasels its way into my chest, remembering how he was so sweet last night, not giving up on me, nor freaking out when I fell apart.
Whatever.
The ping of the elevator startles me and I step onto the plush, gray carpet, and give Janice, the receptionist, a nod. Her eyes are glued to me, almost like she is searching for something, I freeze her out like I did the associates, and she quickly turns back to her desk. This is going to be exhausting.
Stacey is at her desk, tapping away on her computer. Her head lifts as though she sensed I was near. She smiles and stands, extending a mug of coffee to me, stopping me dead in my tracks. Stacey doesn’t smile at me. She doesn’t bring me coffee. What the fuck? Warmth seeps through the subzero aura I’ve put up. A trickle of something…fuzzy? I’m thrown off kilter a little, so I simply nod, take the coffee and step to the door of my office. Before I disappear inside, I turn back and stretch the unused muscles of my face into a small smile of thanks. Stacey’s smile grows, her face lighting up, and it’s the first time I notice that she’s really a very pretty girl, with her shoulder length, honey brown hair, expressive green eyes, and curvy figure. At the sight of her elation, the fuzzy feeling tickles my throat a little, so I continue on into my office.
My office is more my home than my apartment. There aren’t any personal photos, however there are multitudes of awards scattered among the walls and shelves. This place is my haven, where I rule in solitary, but not alone. Lowering myself into the ridiculously comfortable desk chair, I get to work. I have tons of catchup to do from my early leave yesterday.
I’m interrupted shortly after when Stacey softly knocks on my door and enters.
“What is it, Stacey? I’m very behind and I just got to work. Can it wait?” I keep the harshness out of my tone, but there is no mistaking my impatience.
Her step falters for a second, a look of uncertainty on her face. “Um, Ms. Larkin, it’s noon. You’ve been working for the last five hours without a break. You have a delivery and I thought maybe you’d like to order some lunch.”
I sigh, telling my inner bitch to back off, and try not to jump to conclusions in the future. “I’m sorry, Stacey.” Her eyes get wide. What the hell? I may be introverted, but it’s not like I was rude or didn’t speak to her at all in the past. Want to try that again? Because I smell bullshit. Was I that bad? Okay, new rule: aloof but present. “I misjudged the time. Thank you for being so efficient.” Robot, robot, robot. “Um, yes, please order me a salad from that place around the corner and go ahead and bring in the delivery. Um, and, thank you.”
She kicks up one side of her mouth in a secretive smile, and spins on her heel, returning to her desk. After a moment, she shuffles back in with the most beautiful bouquet of blue irises I have ever seen. They bloom up from a lovely glass vase, swirling with frosted etchings. The moment she enters, the fragrance permeates the air and the sweet smell fills my lungs. All of the oxygen rushes back out as my heart pumps wildly.
Stacey sets them on my desk, and passes me an accompanying note. She shuffles from foot to foot for a second and I can see that she really wants to stay and find out who they are from and what the note says. I open it, and tell her, “They are from Chase, the guy who dragged me out of here against my will yesterday.”
Stacey’s cheeks get pink with excitement, but that’s all I’m willing to share.
“Would you see about my lunch…please?” I tack that last word on, knowing I’m usually barking orders without thought. I don’t know why I feel the need to change these subtle things. My life is just the way I like it. See? This is why Chase is a bad influence and someone I should stay far away from.
Reluctantly, Stacey returns to her cubicle and once she is gone, the door firmly closed, I open the note and read it. The fuzzy feeling grows with each heavy beat of my heart, the warmth becoming a burn. I read it again and shake my head. He didn’t ask, he simply ordered me to have dinner with him. I should turn him down, just for that. I reach for the phone, but my hand stalls halfway there. I’m super busy, and he teaches today, I should wait until later to cancel.
I arrange the flowers on the glass coffee table in the center of my little conversation nook across the room. Twisting and turning the vase until I’m satisfied that I’ll have the best view of it from my desk. Then I get to work and don’t look at them again. Liar, liar… I don’t look at them much. Pants on fire… Ok, I glance at them every ten minutes or so, thinking of Chase, and enjoying the tickle in my chest that they bring.
After lunch I become engrossed once again, but am interrupted by the beeping of my intercom. I press the button and Stacey informs me that my mother is on hold. The warmth, the fuzz, the tickle, they all freeze, snuffed out by the bitter cold that sweeps over my body. I don’t like talking to my family. They refuse to accept my wishes, of not speaking about the past. Always forcing memories on me, pushing me to “accept” what happened and let go. I get angry and on its heels comes sadness. Chaotic emotions that I want no part of. I should have sent in that RSVP card with my regrets already, but I suppose I might as well take the call now and get it over with.
“Put her though, Stacey.” I shore up my strongest, thickest wall, preparing for the disappointment in her voice, and pick up the phone when it beeps again.
“Hello, Mother,” I answer.
“Victoria! I’m so glad you decided to come to the wedding! Danielle is ecstatic! It’s all she can talk about since we got your card!” Wait, I didn’t…
“Mother, there must be some kind—” I start.
“And a plus one!” She goes on without noticing I’d begun to speak. “Victoria, I’m so happy. I’m just so happy for my little girl. He must be very special for you to be bringing him home to a family wedding. I can’t tell you how excited we all are.”
Plus one? It dawns on me … I’m going to kill Stacey. My thoughts then go to Chase, and I realize this had to be a conspiracy from collaboration. They are both going to get skewered.
“I know you’re busy, darling. Always working too hard. So, you can tell me all about him this weekend.” Her voice gets thick and I fight not to bang my head down on the desk. Tears. I don’t do tears. “I’ll see you Saturday. I love you, Victoria. They would be happy that you’re moving on.” I stiffen, every muscle in my body tight. Anger emanates in waves, but before I can express my rage, she hangs up.
“Stacey!” I yell. “Get in here!” I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself.
She enters timidly, her eyes wary. “Is everything, okay?”
“What the hell were you thinking sending in that RSVP card accepting, and with a plus one?” My voice is getting progressively louder, and when I reach a full yell, she flinches.
“Chase marked it. I figured you had discussed it beforehand.”
She’s wringing her hands in front of her, and I’m not sure if she is making an excuse or not. Either way it’s done now, and she is the best assistant I’ve ever had, so it’s not like I’m going to fire her.
“Stacey, lets be very clear, you will always check with me before dealing with anything personal.” She nods, and tears are brimming in her eyes, “Now, go back to work, and we’ll forget this happened.” She sags in relief and beats a hasty retreat, back to her desk.
Now, as for that scheming, overly confident, obnoxiously determined tool. I snatch up my cell and scroll to his number, but before I hit call, I decide this needs to be dealt with in person. I need to cut things off, once and for all.
It’s five minutes to six when my phone buzzes, alerting me to a call from the front desk. Gary informs me that I have a guest and I tell him to send him up. It’s time he accepts the real me, so I’m inviting him into my home, the sterile, cold environment a reflection of myself. I wait by the door, checking to make sure I am completely put together, still in my work suit. The doorbell rings and I swing it open, gesturing for him to enter.
An unwelcome surge of heat spirals through me at the sight of him. He looks good, really fucking good. His jeans ride low on his hips, a loose Cubs jersey hangs off of his broad shoulders, blue and white Converse on his feet, and that damn dimple peeking out when he smiles at me. His brown eyes become even darker behind the lenses of his glasses, when he sees me. Before I can say anything, he snakes a hand around my waist, yanking me into his hard chest, and blowing my mind with the best hello kiss I’ve ever had.
When he finally releases my lips, I’m in a daze again, and I can barely remember my name. He stands back and examines my clothes with a frown. I immediately miss the dimple.
“I specifically told you to wear jeans, Tori.” His words admonish, but there is no real censure in his tone. He kisses my cheek and turns me around, a bag is suddenly dangling in front of my face, and his breath whispers in my ear. “Somehow, I knew I’d need these.” He shakes the bag a little, while placing a soft kiss on my neck. I suppress a shudder, but take the bag, and feel the movement of his lips on me as he smiles. Backing up, he lightly smacks my ass. “Go change, babe. We’ve got to get going.”
I don’t know what just happened, or how I ended up here, but I’m now unexpectedly standing in the hallway entrance to my living room, wearing a pair of skinny jeans, a red tank top, and a button down Cubs jersey over it. Chase is standing in the center of the room, looking around with a bewildered expression. Eventually, he notices me and a beautiful smile breaks out on his face. “Wow, you look spectacular.”
I don’t want it to, but pleasure at his compliment grips my heart and squeezes. I was mad, I know I was. I just can’t seem to focus enough to remember why. He strides over to me and stands right in front, feet spread, arms crossed, and a thumb under his chin, pointer finger tapping his lips. Contemplating me. “Hmmm. Just one thing to make it perfect.” Before I can react, he’s pulled all of the pins from my hair and is gently running his fingers through it, combing out the tangles. He resumes his former stance, then nods with a look of satisfaction. “Perfect.” He grabs my hand. “Let’s hit the road. First pitch is at eight and I want to feed you first.”
