Chapter Thirteen
LYRIC
I’m waiting.
I’m also a little on the pissed-off side.
Chase is late.
He said he would be here at seven, and it’s now a quarter to eight.
My foot taps impatiently on the rug on the living room floor, and my arms are folded harshly over my chest as I stare aimlessly at the front door. Anger seeps through my every pore.
Dammit! I can’t believe I fell for this.
Chase sounded so sincere on the phone today, but he’s ghosting me again. How I could ever have thought about giving him another chance is beyond me.
I’m smarter than this.
“You’re an idiot, Lyri!” I stand in frustration and start pacing my living room, letting out an annoyed grunt, when the doorbell rings. My head snaps toward the door, my heart leaping up into my throat as my breath catches.
I shouldn’t let him have this effect on me.
I need to remember I’m angry.
Angry as hell.
I storm to the door and yank it open with far too much brute force, ready to unleash my fury at him.
“You’re a fucking—” I stop midsentence, taking in all the amazing sights and smells before me.
My senses are in complete overload right now.
Chase is standing there in his pristine suit, holding a massive bunch of bi-color pink and white, and double pink Chinese carnations in one hand and the most delicious-smelling takeout in the other.
I fold my arms across my chest as he manages a weak smile.
He has remembered my favorite flower.
He has taken me from insatiably mad to swooning within an instant.
Infuriating asshole.
He hands the flowers to me.
My lips turn up as I reach out and take them from him. “I can’t believe you remembered.”
Chase places the takeout bag on the yellow armchair and brings his hand up, cupping my face. “Of course, I did. I remember everything about you.”
He’s good, I’ll give him that.
“Well, that’s a Hallmark pick-up line if ever I’ve heard one.”
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Chase breathes out.
“Chinese carnations are hard to find this time of year. I went to seven different florists before I found the right ones. I wasn’t coming without them.
” His voice is rough with sincerity, like he’s been running on nerves and adrenaline just to get here.
“I really wanted to get them for you.” He looks at me like that fact alone should excuse the world.
Like I’m supposed to melt right here in the doorway because he brought me flowers.
And dammit—I do.
My heart lurches. “Trust me,” I whisper, trying to steady myself. “I know how hard they are to find this time of year, if you don’t know where to go.” I swallow, heat rising in my throat. “Thank you. I love them.”
I press one hand to his chest, feel his heart hammering beneath my palm, and maybe it’s the adrenaline, or perhaps it’s the way his eyes darken as they search mine, but my knees weaken just a little.
He leans down slowly. It’s not hesitant, it’s calculated like a man who’s waited too long and doesn’t intend to wait any longer. My breath catches, and then his lips crash onto mine.
It’s not soft.
It’s not slow.
It’s everything.
A collision of heat and hunger and barely restrained fury wrapped up in lust. Our mouths collide with a growl, the kiss deep and demanding, as if he’s trying to claim me, apologize, and make me forget all in the same breath.
I whimper into his mouth, fingers twisting in his shirt as I rise onto my toes to meet him. My pulse is like thunder, my mind a blur of sparks and static.
I should be mad.
I was mad.
But now I’m on fire.
His hand fists in my hair, tugging just hard enough to make me gasp, while his other slides down to grip my waist and pull me flush against him. Our bodies fit together too perfectly. It’s as though the universe has been angling for this moment since the start.
We stumble backward into the house, him guiding, me chasing the high of his mouth.
The door slams shut behind us with a kick of his foot, and his lips never leave mine.
He pushes me deeper into the living room, hands everywhere, my back, my jaw, my hips, like he can’t decide where to touch first, so he touches all of me.
And I let him.
Because I want it.
I want him.
This angry, flustered, too-pretty man who went hunting through half the city for flowers to make a point.
He backs me up until my thighs hit the coffee table.
The edge digs in, but I don’t care. I’m too lost in the heat of him, in the way he kisses like it’s the only language he speaks.
The table shifts under us with a heavy groan.
A second later, the potted plant topples, slamming to the floor.
The ceramic pot shatters, soil spilling like a crime scene.
We freeze.
Chests heaving, lips swollen, breath ragged.
And we both stare at the mess, then at each other.
My pulse won’t slow. My lips are tingling. And when I meet his gaze again, I know, I’ll never kiss anyone like that ever again.
Not in this lifetime.
Not in any.
Chase tenses as I bite my bottom lip. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “I’ll buy you another.”
I glare at him with the most serious face I can muster. “It’s irreplaceable. My grandmother bought me that plant.”
His face falls as he grips me tighter. “Oh, fuck!”
I let out a heavy exhale, teasing him further. “Right before she… died,” I whisper the last word to drive it home.
“Jesus, Lyri, I’m so—”
I can’t hold it in anymore as I burst out laughing. Chase’s face scrunches up in confusion as I pull back. “You should see your face. It’s nothing. Totally replaceable. I don’t even remember where I got it from. Probably a market stall somewhere.”
He bends down to help me clean up the mess with a scowl. “You had me for a second, there. You’re an evil, evil woman.”
“I know, I’m sorry. Call it the start of your payback,” I tease.
His hand comes out, stopping on top of mine, his face completely serious as he stills. “Lyri, I can’t apologize enough for my vanishing act. I know I’ve hurt you.” His nostrils flare. “I don’t deserve this second chance, but I’m so glad you’re giving it to me.”
“Just don’t make me regret it.”
He leans forward, planting a quick, tender kiss on my lips.
Ba-dum.
Ba-dum.
He pulls back, smiling at me as he takes my hand in his and stands, taking me with him. “Leave this, I’ll clean it up.” He reaches into the pocket inside his jacket, grabbing something. “I also brought a gift for Polly.” Chase pulls out an apple for my overlord hell-parrot.
But my chest swells, my entire body lighting up like a damn Christmas tree. “Swoon.” I slap my hand over my mouth, realizing I’ve said that out loud.
Chase grins from ear to ear as he starts walking. “Did you just swoon out loud?” he jests as he walks past me to Polly’s cage, smirking wildly.
Sighing, I shrug it off and just roll with it. “It is what it is.”
He chuckles, glancing over his shoulder back at me. “And you think I’m the one living the Hallmark movie?” he teases, stepping up to the cage. When Polly sees Chase, he flaps his wings as if he’s waving hello.
It’s so freaking cute.
After placing my flowers in a vase, I grab a knife from the kitchen as Chase pets Polly while he sits on his perch. I bring the knife over for Chase to cut up the apple, and he hands a slice to Polly with ease.
“It’s crazy he’ll eat the apple for you, but not for anyone else. After you left, I tried, but no cigar.”
Chase grins. “Some guys have all the right moves.”
“You want to be known as the guy who has the moves… for a male parrot?”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Smartass.”
“Hey, you said it, not me.”
Chase reaches out, grabbing me. His arms circle my waist without hesitation.
Our bodies collide before my hands wrap around his neck.
I stare into his eyes, and we simply stare at each other.
His eyes seem intense tonight, sparkling in the dim light of the sunroom.
The stars are twinkling through the floor-to-ceiling windows, making it seem like we’re outside, standing under the stars.
He unleashes that smile.
God, that smile.
All charm and heat, like he knows exactly what it does to me. It pulls the air from my lungs and sends a ripple of electricity right through my chest.
And the way he’s looking at me right now?
Like I’m the only thing he sees.
Like I matter.
There’s still so much unsaid between us, but in this moment, the weight of words fades into the background. The pull between us tightens, thick, magnetic, impossible to ignore.
I rise on my toes, closing the distance, and I brush my lips to his.
Soft. Testing. And he doesn’t hesitate. He kisses me back like he’s been waiting for this—for me.
His hand finds my waist, fingers tightening gently as he pulls me closer, anchoring me to him.
The press of our bodies is firm, but not rushed.
This kiss is slow and deliberate, heat simmering beneath every breath.
When his mouth parts and our tongues meet, the kiss deepens.
My heart pounds like a drumbeat against my ribs, each thud echoing with everything I haven’t said out loud.
My fingers slip into his hair, and he hums low in his throat, the sound curling around my spine and lighting up every nerve ending.
His other hand glides to my cheek, his thumb sweeping tenderly along my jaw as if he’s memorizing the shape of me. My knees weaken at the contrast—his strength, his softness—and the way he holds me like I’m something rare.
“Chase…” I whisper his name without thinking.
He pulls back just a sliver, just long enough to breathe against my lips. “You have no idea how good you taste.”
I smile because I was thinking the same thing about him.
He moves back in, his lips hard against mine. I can’t help but let out a soft whimper against his mouth, when, “Rawrr… get a room,” Polly screeches.
Chase and I snicker against each other’s lips, then slowly pull apart.
How does that bird say the right thing at the right damn time?
But maybe he’s onto something.