Chapter 4
Chapter Four
HARPER
“Harper? D-didn’t expect to see you,” he stammered, surprise etched across his face. He leaned uneasily against the doorframe, barefoot and undeniably sexy in jeans and a navy T-shirt. I tried not to notice that.
“I know, but this is important, Chase.” I crossed my arms, not letting him distract me. “So I came over to see you in person. We need to talk about the Block One plumbing realistically.”
Shifting his broad frame, he led me inside. “Funny, I thought that’s what we were doing all day.”
I ignored him, my steps echoing against the immaculate wood floors.
I’d been in his house before with Eli, but now I saw it with new eyes.
The living room was precisely what I’d expect from a talented architect.
Lovingly restored, beautiful floors. Modern furniture that screamed understated elegance yet also looked inviting.
My irritation with him mixed with the stupid warmth that grew hotter every time I looked at his beautiful, chiseled face, creating an emotional Molotov cocktail I was afraid could explode at any moment.
So why did I come over here in person instead of calling?
I couldn’t remember now.
He motioned to the open door of his office. “Let’s go in here. I’ve been working tonight.”
“I should have brought my battle armor,” I muttered.
“Yeah, well,” he called back, meeting my eyes, “I left my white flag at the studio.”
I followed him into his office and took a long inhale. This had to stay professional.
The room smelled like paper, ink, and Chase.
Clean. Precise. And just messy enough to show he’d been working hard.
Blueprints of the resort renovations covered his wide mahogany desk.
His hair was mussed, his jawline stubbled, and if I weren’t already annoyed with him, the whole thing would have been disgustingly attractive.
It still was, and that was part of the problem.
“We need to fix this before it throws the entire schedule off.” I planted myself by his desk, standing like I might refuse to leave.
“Fixing it is the whole idea.” He joined me, leaning on the desk with infuriating casualness and keeping his voice even. “Replacing the pipes now saves headaches down the line.”
I shook my head. “Chase, the budget’s already tight, and ripping everything out means we’d have to close the entire block. It’s too disruptive.”
“It’s disruptive for a week, Harper, not for the rest of the season.” His voice was as cool as the room, his eyes never leaving mine. “And the water will be off for less than a day. Patch jobs won’t last. You’re sacrificing the long-term health of the resort.”
“Or maybe I’m prioritizing our guests’ comfort and payroll!” I snapped.
He crossed his arms, which highlighted his muscles. Damn him. “This isn’t about saving a few dollars today. It’s about preventing a catastrophe tomorrow. Do you fully understand the risks here?”
The words stung, and I glared at him. “You think I don’t understand? Easy for you to say from your ivory tower! I’m the one dealing with complaints and staff, not sitting pretty in a design studio!”
“Really?” His brows shot up. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re doing a pretty good job running the show.”
I ignored his compliment. “Maybe because I have to fight for every inch! We’re going way over budget.”
“And I’ve been fronting the money for the overruns, if you recall.” His icy, precise tone grated on my nerves. So did the fact that he was taking a lot of the financial risks.
“Yes, sir.” I snarled. “You have the money. You make the decisions.”
He stood up and stared daggers down at me. “That’s not what I meant at all.”
“There’s got to be some sort of compromise besides ripping out all that copper. It got replaced only a decade ago!”
“And the contractor did a shitty job on that section. I’m sorry, but this is the compromise. Otherwise, I’d suggest replacing all of it, Harper. The whole building. This isn’t just a disagreement. It’s a fundamental issue with the project, and I thought we were on the same page about these things.”
“You’re so inflexible,” I shouted back, stabbing my finger in his chest. “You’re designing for an architectural magazine, not a real-world resort!”
“I’m trying to make sure you—we—still have a resort ten years from now,” he growled through gritted teeth, the volume of his voice rising.
My anger erupted, fueled by exhaustion, attraction, and the rising fear that he was right. I stepped right up to him, refusing to back down. “Maybe you don’t trust me to handle this!”
He stared at me, his hazel eyes flashing. “Maybe you’re trying to control everything because you can’t stand not knowing the outcome!”
His words hung in the air like the Florida humidity, thick and unavoidable. He was so close I could feel the heat from his body, his clean scent invading my senses, my anger mixing with something else entirely. The whole thing was overwhelming, the air crackling.
The expression on his face was determined, intense, and I couldn’t tell if I wanted to kiss it or slap it.
Both.
I wanted both.
And then, suddenly, I couldn’t tell which was which because his mouth was on mine.
He’d moved so fast I hardly saw him coming.
And all that frustration, simmering attraction, and boiling tension between us ignited.
My head spun from the force of his mouth.
Our kiss wasn’t gentle—it was a collision.
Tongues clashed, hands gripped, clothes were wrenched aside.
There was no air, no pause. Just weeks and months of wanting unleashed all at once.
His lips were firm, insistent, angry. The taste of him was everything I’d been trying to fight.
Buttons and boundaries blurred. My tank top ripped as he tugged it over my head.
I gasped against his mouth, his hands on my bare skin at last. “Yes! Don’t stop.”
I fumbled with the button on his jeans, then yanked his shirt up over his head.
He backed me against the desk, the wood cool against my thighs as I pulled him closer, both of us frantic, all logic and restraint gone.
My bra came next, the straps snapping, sliding down my arms. It joined his shirt somewhere on the floor.
“Harper,” he breathed, hoarse and rough. His mouth moved from my lips to my throat, his hands roaming over me, pulling, gripping, squeezing, like he was making sure I was real. His touch burned through me, frantic and impossibly intense.
My mind reeled as I remembered who I was, who he was, who I thought I was supposed to be. He wrenched the jeans from my legs, and it all spun away again, the hard reality of my life evaporating like steam against his skin. Chase was here. And I wanted this. More than anything.
He lifted me and set me on the desk, leaving me bare to him, not an inch of clothing left.
I should have been embarrassed. I should have been anything but what I was—desperate, gasping, clawing at his pants.
But he was relentless, hungry, catching my mouth in his again, stifling the tiny cry that slipped out of me as I got his jeans and underwear off his hips.
They slid in a heap to the floor, and he kicked them aside.
As his body came into full breathtaking view, my breath caught, and my hands slowed.
Jesus. Hard and ready, he was… huge. I hesitated, thrown back into my own head, caught between wild anticipation and fear.
He must have seen it in my eyes, in the way my body stiffened under his hands.
He paused, his breath ragged, his gaze searching mine with sudden concern.
“Hey,” he murmured, brushing hair back from my face. “You okay?”
I swallowed hard. “I haven’t been with anyone since… since Finn’s father.” My voice sounded strange in my own ears, shaky and unsure, and the laugh I barked was even worse. “I’m not sure I even remember how.”
He stilled above me, then let out an almost relieved laugh. His eyes softened with something more than just heat before he pressed a gentle kiss across my jaw. “You don’t need to worry about that. We’ll figure it out together.”
And then he showed me just how much he meant it. His hands were slow now, tender as they moved over my skin with reverence and care. He whispered my name like a promise against my neck, trailing kisses down my throat until I melted beneath him. My earlier panic faded into something else entirely.
He stroked the hair back from my face, his touch gentle as if he was calming a startled animal. Then he smoothed his palms down my arms, pausing, offering me a way out. “Better now?”
The smart thing would be to stop. To walk away. To remember all the reasons why this was a disaster waiting to happen.
But the smart thing had nothing to do with what I wanted.
And God, I wanted this. I wanted him.
“Yes.”
“You’re so beautiful.” He ran his lips over my collarbone, his breath sending a hot shiver through me. He went on, the words almost too quiet to hear, the sound of my name mingling with sweet, unexpected things that melted me from the inside.
Any last thread of reluctance dissolved. I nodded, a silent plea for him not to stop, never to stop. He smiled against my neck, the feel of it turning my knees to water.
I moaned as his mouth traveled down my chest, as his hands explored me with more care and patience than I’d known in years.
Maybe ever. Reverence and hunger mingled in every touch, in every kiss, drawing out every forgotten piece of myself.
My body responded to him in ways I thought I’d locked away.
In ways I thought I didn’t deserve to feel again.
Chase’s mouth found my breast, and I gasped, arching into him. His tongue was a slow tease, circling, tasting, sending sparks through every nerve. He took me deeper, sucking hard, his hand kneading the other with a perfect rhythm that made my head spin.