Chapter 10 #2
His smirk softened into an actual smile. “Cool.” He rolled his eyes as the front door bell jingled again. “Okay, I’ll be back in half an hour for that biko.”
That afternoon Chase held a box of biko on his knees as I drove him home, and he listened carefully as I explained how long to heat them in the microwave for and how the latik went on right before they were served.
He was a biko convert now. He’d devoured three pieces in about a minute at work earlier.
“You should make them for the customers,” he said.
“Maybe.” I loved that he loved it. “I’m gonna make some for Bobby first and see what he thinks.”
“Bobby,” he repeated, deadpan. “The same Bobby who thought I made the best coffee in the world at the gas station?”
“Fair point,” I said as we turned into his street. “But he was smart enough to hire me, a person who actually drinks coffee, so is he really that crazy?”
Chase snorted. “Asshole.”
The way he said it sounded almost affectionate.
It was something that was happening more and more.
Chase still snapped like an angry terrier every chance he got, but there was a lot less heat behind it now, playful nips instead of teeth that sank to the bone.
It was almost as if he liked me—even though he’d probably never admit it.
My heartbeat sped up in anticipation when I saw that the driveway to his place was empty, and I killed the engine as I pulled up.
Chase opened his door and said, “So, you coming inside or what?”
Except there was something about the way he said it that was different from his usual invitation.
Normally, he got out of the truck and headed inside without waiting to see if I was following, like he didn’t care one way or another.
But not today. Today he waited, a tiny crease appearing between his brows as he looked anywhere but at me.
If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn he was nervous.
“Yeah, I’m coming in.”
Maybe it was the fact that he was acting differently, but the sex was different too. Instead of grabbing me and shoving me against the nearest surface, once we were inside, Chase looked over his shoulder like he was checking I was still behind him and pushed open the door at the end of the hallway.
His bedroom.
It wasn’t much to look at, just like the rest of the house, but it still felt momentous.
“So, this is my room,” he said in a normal tone of voice, and I was still so surprised that he’d let me in here that it felt weird that he wasn’t whispering like we were in a church.
He dropped his backpack on the floor while I took a surreptitious look around to see what parts of Chase’s personality I could find around the place.
There was nothing. It was about as impersonal as a hotel room. Just twin beds, a chair with clothes piled on it, and a closet. There were no family photos, no pictures or posters, no knickknacks. Not even a pennant from his favorite sports team.
Like he didn’t really live here at all.
But I suddenly didn’t care about any of that because Chase was taking his shirt off. And that was worth caring about, because although we fucked a lot, he didn’t get naked very often. But he was peeling his shirt over his head slowly, like he wanted to give me a show.
And I was very happy to watch.
But then, just when he’d gotten the shirt off, he said in a quiet voice, “Come over here?”
I wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted—I would have put money on the fact that he wasn’t sure either—but I closed the space between us and kissed him.
It was gentle, and it was new, and Chase looped his arms around my neck like we were slow dancing at a high school prom and let it happen.
He tasted of biko, hints of rice and coconut flavoring his kisses, and I took my time, sliding my hands over him and exploring the expanse of bare skin.
Who knew when I’d get a chance like this again?
Chase melted under my touch, and then one hand darted down and he tugged at the hem of my shirt.
I drew back and let him peel it off me, and then his hands settled on my hips and we kissed again.
When we tumbled onto his bed, it was still slow and sweet, and it stayed that way.
The heat was still there, but it was a different kind of heat than we were used to.
Everything was softer, gentler, a slow simmer instead of the usual roaring flames.
I spooned him from behind, and he hitched his leg up.
We both held our breath as I slid inside him and then we rocked together.
My mouth left kisses on his shoulder, and his made short, sharp gasping sounds.
I ran my fingertips over his chest, teasing at one nipple until it hardened under my touch.
He didn’t pull away, and I splayed one hand across his belly, holding him close as I fucked him slow and deep.
Chase moved with me, rolling his hips and panting out a soft “Please,” and damned if it wasn’t one of the sexiest things I’d ever heard.
Usually when we fucked it was hard and fast, with Chase calling the shots. And don’t get me wrong, I liked pushy, prickly Chase.
But a Chase who was soft, and pliant, and said please?
Fucking irresistible.
I reached down and wrapped a hand around his erection and stroked.
He let out a ragged moan and thrust into my grip.
I buried my face in the curve of his neck and hitched my hips forward, fucking up into him in tight movements as I jerked him off, our slow pace forgotten.
The bed frame squeaked in time with our movements, and it barely took a minute before Chase threw his head back and came with a shout, his ass clenching around my cock.
Heat flared in my belly and that was all it took for me to come as well, my heart thundering against my ribs as my orgasm rolled over me.
I ended up half sprawled over Chase’s back in a sweaty, fucked-out mess.
I rested my head against his shoulder while I caught my breath and waited for him to tell me to fuck off, the way he had every other time I’d tried to hold him.
But instead he shuffled around so we were slotted together, let out a long breath that was almost a sigh, and relaxed with his back pressed to my chest like it was no big deal.
Huh. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who thought this could be something more than sex.
Maybe he wanted more too.
But this was Chase, and he never asked for anything. Even if he did want more, he’d never admit it. I’d have to ask him.
My stomach fluttered with nerves as I pressed a kiss under his ear and traced a pattern over the soft skin of his belly, dragging my fingertips back and forth.
He squirmed but didn’t pull away, and a second later his hand landed on mine and our fingers tangled together.
I blinked at the unexpected touch, and I was confused for a second. But then I figured it out.
He’d taken me into his bed, and he was letting me stay here with him. No—he was more than letting me. This was Chase asking me.
This whole thing was his way of saying he wanted more—or as close as he’d get, anyway. Because somewhere along the line, he’d learned that it was better not to want anything than to risk asking, and I got the feeling that particular lesson was hard learned. The thought made my chest ache.
And I was willing to do the asking part, if he couldn’t.
I squeezed his fingers gently. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he said quietly.
I nuzzled at the curve of his throat, nipped his earlobe the way I knew he liked, and said, “I was thinking.”
Chase rolled over to face me and gave me a curious look. “Yeah?”
I propped myself up on one elbow. “Yeah. About us.” I breathed deeply to calm my nerves and said, “I’d like to take you out.”
Chase stared.
“We could go to a movie in Hopewell or something,” I said. “Or dinner, if you’re into that.”
Chase blinked slowly and said, “Are you talking about a date?”
“Yeah.” I forced the word out, ignoring the squirming in my gut. “Because I like you, Chase. And the sex is fantastic, but I want more.”
His face did something complicated, and I couldn’t have told you what he was thinking.
The silence dragged out, and for a horrible, heart-stopping moment I was convinced he was about to tell me to go fuck myself and that this was just sex and nothing more.
But then he shot me a wary look, blew out a sharp breath, and said, “You’re paying. ”
Relief bubbled through me, stronger than it had any right to be. “Is that a yes?”
Chase rolled his eyes. “It was a yes.”
He reached out and grabbed my arm and pulled it clumsily across himself, rolled over so I was the big spoon, and said, “Now shut the fuck up and cuddle me.”
When I next opened my eyes, I was alone.
The other side of the bed was still warm when I ran a hand over the worn sheets, though, and I couldn’t fight my smile.
Chase had let me into his bed, and he’d agreed to go on a date.
I still wasn’t sure how or why he’d agreed, and it could all go horribly wrong if I so much as looked at him sideways, but I wasn’t going to question it.
I shoved the comforter aside and got dressed in the dim light filtering around the big blanket hanging over the window.
I eased the bedroom door open and made my way to the kitchen.
Chase was standing in front of the sink, shirtless, with a glass of water in his hand, his figure silhouetted against the light.
My dick twitched at the sight of him, and I wondered if I could coax him back to bed to ride me. It probably wouldn’t take much—he loved being on top. I stepped up behind him, slipped one hand around him and cupped his junk, and kissed along his collarbone.
His reaction was instant—but it wasn’t the one I was expecting. Chase didn’t grind against my dick or kiss me back or wrap his legs around my waist like he usually did.
Instead, he swung around wildly and punched me right in the face.