Chapter Thirteen #2
That’s exactly what I want to do right now.
I want to get a room.
I pull away and reach for Chase’s hand, curling my fingers through his as I turn and guide him down the hallway.
Each step echoes with the sound of my pulse thudding in my ears, louder than the soft hum of the house settling around us.
The air seems thicker now, heavy with expectation, vibrating with unspoken intent.
We’re barely touching, but the current between us is alive, crawling across my skin like lightning before a storm.
We both know what’s about to happen.
There’s no question.
No uncertainty.
Only anticipation so fierce it steals the breath from my lungs.
As we reach my bedroom door, I hesitate, not from doubt, but from the sheer weight of the moment.
I ease it open slowly, the hinges creaking like they, too, understand this is a point of no return.
Inside, the room is bathed in soft shadows and moonlight filtering through the curtains, everything familiar but suddenly tinged with the unknown.
When I glance back, he’s standing just outside the threshold, framed by the warm hallway glow.
The contrast throws his face into shadow, but his eyes, God, his eyes burn like a blistering hot blue flame.
They’re locked on me with a look so intense, so fiercely focused, that my knees nearly buckle beneath the force of it.
I step back into the room, my heart now a chaotic rhythm against my ribcage. My breathing is ragged, shallow, and fast, chest rising with every sharp inhale that I can’t seem to slow down. My fingers twitch at my sides, desperate to touch, to grab, to pull.
That’s all it takes.
Chase closes the distance in a heartbeat, his movements smooth but purposeful, like a man possessed.
One hand cups the back of my neck, the other slides into my hair, threading through the strands and tightening just enough to make me gasp.
Then he’s on me, his mouth crashes to mine in a kiss that obliterates everything else.
Every coherent thought, every sliver of restraint, every tether to logic disappears in an instant.
This isn’t gentle.
It’s heated.
Urgent.
Consuming in the way a wildfire eats through dry timber.
His tongue slides into my mouth like he owns it, and I meet him with equal force, not willing to surrender the reins just yet.
My hands find his shoulders, then his chest, clinging as I stagger back with the strength of him guiding me.
We move together, lips never parting, until the backs of my legs hit the bedframe.
Still, I don’t sit.
I won’t give up control that easily.
Instead, I reach down between us, fingers working to unfasten his belt with more confidence than I feel.
The leather slips through the loops with a satisfying hiss.
His kiss stutters for half a second, just enough to register surprise, before he groans low and deep, the sound vibrating against my lips.
“Lyric…” he breathes my name like a prayer turned plea, rough and reverent all at once.
My jacket slides from my shoulders under his hands, falling to the floor in a forgotten heap. I kick it away as I guide him back, anchoring him to me with every ounce of desperation surging through my bloodstream.
His mouth drifts to my throat, hot breath ghosting over the sensitive skin there before his lips find purchase.
He sucks gently, then harder, and I cry out, a soft, involuntary sound that only seems to fuel him further.
My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging him back to my mouth, needing more, needing everything.
We’re no longer kissing, we’re devouring. Lost in the push and pull of each other. Of want. Of release. Of tension that’s been building for far too long.
I don’t know where this night is going.
But right now, I want it all.
My fingers find the button of his pants and work quickly, the fabric giving way under my touch just as he shucks off his jacket and lets it drop to the floor with mine.
There’s nothing graceful about our urgency.
We’re like teenagers fumbling with anticipation, desperate to touch, to strip away the layers separating skin from skin.
His pants loosen, sliding lower on his hips, and I grab hold of the waistband, tugging them down over that sinful ass I’ve been eyeing for days. They pool around his ankles as I reach for the tiny, infuriating buttons of his shirt, cursing softly under my breath when they don’t come undone easily.
And how could I focus when his hands are skimming the edge of my tank top, sliding up under the hem, his palms warm and greedy on my skin?
My body responds immediately, my clit throbbing, my core aching, as I abandon the shirt buttons and raise my arms, letting him lift my tank up and off.
Our lips break apart only for a second, gasping in tandem as his gaze drops.
His stare scorches me.
I feel it everywhere.
My lacy white bra offers little coverage and even less modesty.
But I don’t care.
Not when he looks at me like this.
Like he’s starving.
There’s no mistaking the tenting of his briefs, the visible proof of just how much he wants me.
Chase licks his lips, his hands returning to my waist as he pulls me to him. His kiss lands hard and deep, flooding my bloodstream with heat while his mouth devours mine with unrelenting hunger. He’s matching me beat for beat, desire vibrating between us like a live current.
I reach for his buttons again, determined this time.
I need this off.
I need all of him.
He beats me to it, fingers moving to the waistband of my jeans, unfastening them before sliding them down over my hips.
The denim clings stubbornly to my thighs, but we manage to free them, along with my flats.
I’m left in nothing but the pale lace of my bra and aqua panties, mismatched, and I suddenly wish they weren’t.
But when his eyes land on the bright pop of color, he breaks into a grin that sends a shiver down my spine.
His fingers trace the edge of the lace, his voice low and gravelly.
“I like these,” he murmurs, then presses another kiss to my lips, deeper this time, more deliberate.
The next second, he tugs the panties down my thighs with a little more force than necessary, and I gasp, but not from pain, from surprise. From the thrill of him.
I laugh lightly at his enthusiasm, but then he does something unexpected.
He taps my foot, and I step out of my panties, then he scoops them from the floor, balls them into his hand, and slips them into his shirt pocket.
“I’m keeping these,” he says, before finally peeling the shirt from his shoulders and tossing it to the floor, leaving only his boxer briefs between us.
The intensity in his gaze darkens further as it drops to where I’m exposed.
His hand travels the curve of my thigh, fingers brushing upward, seeking.
The other hand glides along my spine, unfastening my bra with maddening ease.
The straps fall, and so does the garment, floating to the floor just as his fingers find me.
He strokes softly at first, a single slide over my clit that pulls a moan from my throat.
My eyes flutter closed at the sensation, the tension coiling so fast it steals my breath.
His hand is warm, sure, confident as he presses in, and I gasp again when a finger slips inside me, slow and deliberate.
“This…” he murmurs as he leans in, lips brushing my ear. “This belongs to me, Lyri.”
I would give him anything in this moment. With his hand between my legs and his mouth against my skin, I’d agree to anything he asked. “Yours,” I whisper without hesitation.
But that’s not enough for him. “Don’t say it just because I’m working you up. Look at me,” he growls, his voice laced with rough demand.
My eyes snap open, locking with his. That deep, muscari-blue holds mine, full of heat and challenge. Then he presses firmer, circling slow and tight over my clit, and my breath catches on a sob of pleasure. “Tell me,” he says again.
My nails dig into his arms, trying to ground myself.
I feel like I’m untethered, floating in some bliss-soaked haze.
His touch never stops, his fingers coaxing me higher and higher until I am about to combust. I can barely speak, but I find the strength to give him what he needs.
“I belong to you, Chase,” I pant, voice trembling, eyes still on his.
The sound he makes is part groan, part growl, primal and low in his throat. His hand never relents, circling harder, faster, until my legs begin to tremble beneath me.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful when you’re panting for me.” His lips come down, capturing my moan while he works harder, faster, circling again and again until I see flashes of light behind my closed eyes. My body breaks out into a cold sweat as I gasp for breath, which I just can’t seem to catch.
I’m right on the edge.
Right on the precipice.
My entire body feels taut, wound, on the edge of something violent and exquisite. Chase breaks our kiss, his mouth moving to my ear, tugging hard with his teeth at the same time, and he flicks my clit with just the right pressure.
My entire body explodes with the most amazing sensations wracking right through my very being.
My muscles contract, then release into a shattering orgasm that rips through me like lightning, my muscles convulsing as heat crashes over me in violent waves.
My legs give way completely, but Chase is ready.
He catches me, easing me back until I feel the mattress beneath me.
My limbs are molten. My breath’s coming in rapid pants. And all I can do is lie there, completely undone, as he stands over me with stormy eyes.
His boxer briefs are still on.
He can’t be done.
I need more.
I need him.
“Chase?” I ask, breathless, still half in the afterglow, half in desperation.