Chapter 19
Jack: Earth to Pepper.
Pepper: Pepper reporting, over.
Jack: Have you been kidnapped??
Pepper: Essentially, yes.
Jack: Are we talking morally grey 6’5 kidnapper, or the scary kind who actually wants to traffic you?
Pepper: Closer to the former, dare I say.
Jack: I’ll try to contain my sympathy for you.
PEPPER
His eyes slide down the color scale to twinkling onyx, powerful energy radiating from every thick, tight muscle in his broad frame.
My heart hammers inside my chest, a tingling awareness rising south of my belly button at the devious intent emblazoned across his chiseled features.
I get a split-second warning on what is about to happen when he grabs my face, angling it further up so that he is just inches away, the ghost of his warm, mint-scented breath hitting my skin.
“On any given day, I don’t know if I should worship at your feet or spank you until you’re red raw.
” The molten gravel creates a shiver that branches through my entire body, echoing in a sudden clench between my thighs.
My last thought before he crashes his mouth down onto mine, is just how much fucking trouble I am in with this man.
Kissing Chase is like dancing with the devil, and I’m powerless to resist him when he’s like this. His lips move over mine, firm but soft at the same time, his tongue tangling with mine, the masculine scent of him lodged at the back of my throat.
I moan, throwing away any last dreg of self-respect and flinging my arms around his neck, crushing him in closer, needing to feel more of him—explore more of him.
He drops a hand from my face to tug me tight to his body, the other sliding around the back of my neck and tangling in my hair.
He takes what he wants, how he wants it, with the exact same precision that he moves through this world with, angling my head to give himself the perfect angle.
I dig my fingernails into his shoulders, earning myself a deep gravelly groan into my mouth that sets every nerve ending alight.
Oh, this feels dangerous. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, and I’ve been missing out.
He curls his body over me, anchoring me to him with an arm around my lower back and bending me backward.
I welcome it, pliant and willing in his strong arms as he walks me back until my ass hits the desk.
He drags his lips off mine, placing peppered kisses across my jaw and down to my neck, sucking and nibbling at the perfect sensitive spot right where it meets my shoulder. “God, Pepper. You drive me insane.”
Right. Back. At you. I would tell him as much if I could catch my breath around the cyclone of sensations barreling through my nervous system, which ratchet up another gear when he slides one thigh closer between mine, giving me some pressure I desperately need.
Something scarily large and hard presses into my hip.
My hands clutch at his wide back as he swiftly picks me up, wrapping my legs around him and placing me on the desktop.
Something clatters to the floor, but we both ignore it.
“That stubborn attitude of yours.” His deep voice rumbles across my skin, sending tingles in every direction. He lifts his head, his molten gaze scraping over me. “This pretty face.” He lifts the hand from my back to run a finger along my jaw, before it drops south. “This perfect body of yours.”
My cheeks flame as he pushes one strap of my dungarees off my shoulder, and traces the same finger down to the outline of my breast above my shirt.
Alarm bells blare, warning me that I’m not used to men like Chase Walker.
I’m not used to men with confidence and power, and hell, more experience at this type of thing that I can shake a cat at.
It’s heady enough that I’m seconds away from humping his leg like a badly behaved dog—tongue out, panting.
“I can’t wait to unwrap you, Pepper Quinn.” The growl comes out primal, just as his hands cap my hips. The world tilts on its axis, and suddenly I’m flipped over, my cheek close to the desk as he leans over me, trailing kisses down the back of my neck. “And find out just how sweet you are.”
My thighs squeeze, jolts of electricity streaking through my belly as my breath comes in quicker and quicker. Holy hell, this man might be able to make me come just by talking to me.
He tangles one of his hands with mine, placing them joined together just inches from my face.
My cheek touches the cool desk surface, and suddenly something cold floods my system, the burning furnace that existed just seconds ago doused from existence.
My breath feels tight for a whole new reason, and my eyes slam open to see my faint reflection in the computer screen glass just inches away from my face. No, no, no, no!
“Stop!” I bolt upright, or attempt to anyway, but he’s so heavy and strong that I barely move a few inches. Panic strangles my throat, the memory of copper swirling around my head.
“Are you okay?” Chase quickly reacts, his weight falling away from my back so that I can stand. “Did I hurt you?”
Tears prickle in my eyes, the floodgates I keep so tightly chained threatening to break open. I spin around, my chest heaving, the horrifying reality of the moment trickling in. “I-I just—”
Great, coherent words are apparently off the table. A crease forms between his brows, his hands reaching for my arms to steady me. I must look like a ghost, if his face is anything to go by. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I—” I shake my head, sucking in a calming breath and grounding myself in the small details. I’m in my office. At home. There are no mirrors, or sandstone tiles. There is no blood. And most importantly, there is no Jeremy Rènir Junior. “I’m fine, I’m sorry. It’s just…not a good idea.”
I try to keep my breathing steady, which is no mean feat, considering my nervous system is acting like I just did a five-hundred-meter sprint.
The back of my neck prickles in the way it always does when he switches on his X-ray vision, and if that didn’t confirm that he doesn’t believe me, the slight narrowing of his eyes would.
I clear my throat and try to step back, needing to escape his heady scent to get my head on straight.
I’m met with the hard desk lip behind me, but he takes the hint and steps away, giving me space.
“Okay,” he says easily, smoothing down the front of his suit and sliding his hands into his pockets.
“Okay?” I repeat, shocked that he doesn’t resist.
He lifts one dark eyebrow. “Yes, Pepper. I’m not in the habit of coercing women to sleep with me. If you say no, it’s no. No questions asked.”
I feel my lower lip begin to tremble at those words, and clamp it down tightly to prevent it from showing.
In part because that simple sentiment is heartbreaking for someone like me, but mostly because I realize that’s exactly what had been about to happen here.
I had been about to fuck Chase Walker, on my desk, with ten people in the room down the hall.
I swipe a hand down my face, expelling a deep sigh. What the fuck am I playing at? “Okay, thank you.”
I hear his footsteps move and glance up to see him walk over to my office door. “But Pepper?” he pauses to say, turning his head to look at me. “I want this to be easy between us. No more rivalry. Just two people working together toward a common goal.”
I blink in surprise, cataloguing his determined mask. “Okay,” I agree quietly, leaning back on the desk lip. “No more rivalry.”
“And no more investigating my friends,” he adds seriously, placing a large hand on the door handle.
I open my mouth to argue the point as a knee-jerk reaction, but his pointed eyebrow changes my course. “I can agree to that.”
“Good.” He winks like we didn’t just have the most charged, confusing, and downright inappropriate encounter, and opens the door, disappearing through it and leaving me in a puddle of mixed emotions.
***
“You know, I think I could use some ocean air.” Chase drags his palm down his jaw, stubble scratching as we both walk slowly along the edge of the New York Harbor.
The thick green trees in Battery Park line the other side of the tarmac pathway that corrals the southern tip of Lower Manhattan, set against a backdrop of the towering skyscrapers that inhabit the financial district.
“This is ocean air,” I point out, indicating the harbor that wraps around us, and the salty breeze that accompanies a steady flow of ferries and the Statue of Liberty in the distance.
“Partly,” Chase agrees, taking a sip of his take-out coffee. “The East River meets the harbor here, so it’s not all ocean.” He uses a bear-like paw to quietly move me to his other side, away from the car that zooms by.
I roll my eyes and tear them away from the appealing visage he presents in mid-blue jeans and sneakers. He also wears a grey waffle-print sweater even though it’s sunny, to account for the coastal breeze that travels inland.
“How would you feel about going away for a few days? I have a place in the Hamptons, Sunny is on summer break. We can even take Mr. Clay so that we can keep an eye on him.” He throws the offer out casually, stepping out of the way of a solo jogger coming the other way.
“You’re asking me to go away with you?” That sounds like a terrible idea in light of yesterday. I still can’t quite believe it happened, and actually it seems better that I pretend it didn’t, so I won’t question that too much. I lift a hand and brush my lips absentmindedly.
“I mean, it would be nicer to unpick this thing on a beach, versus my office, no?” He glances down at me, his face neutral.
It’s the sentiment that led us here, taking a midafternoon stroll along the waterfront after hours of research to try and chase down suspects.
“And I’m sure Sunny would rather babysit Mr. Clay by the pool, if she had to. ”
I tilt my head, finding that logic hard to disagree with.
Sunny is currently—begrudgingly—keeping Mr. Clay company in his cat-scented apartment while she tries to diamond art.
The picture he’s painting feels horribly tempting, given it’s not too far off what I had planned to go and do with Sunny this summer anyway, before our trip got canceled.
Although, we weren’t going anywhere near as fancy as the Hamptons.
Oh how the other half live, picking up and popping to the Hamptons for a bit of sunshine and sand whenever the whim strikes.
“Watch out.” A large hand clamps around my upper arm and tugs me softly to one side a second before the sunlight above me is cloaked for a moment.
“What?” I try to tug my arm away and peer around the mass of muscle and fine Italian fabric that’s shielding me from the path.
Peering around his brawny arm, my lips pop open in surprise. At least twenty people of all shapes, colors, genders, and sizes sail past us at speed. A running club in and of itself is not a cause for wonder. But this? This is different.
All dressed in neon spandex with glow stick arm bands and necklaces, paired with the odd leg warmer and fluffy sweatbands, these people dance and run at the same time.
One guy closest to the railings leaps into the air and pirouettes, his eyes closed and a free smile on his face before he lands on his feet again and continues.
They all share one thing, besides the whacky running gear: flashing disco-light headphones with Disco Therapy Running Club scrawled on the over-ear cap.
“Wow.” I blow out a breath, a smile touching my lips as one woman with glittering umber skin sashays her hips to a beat we can’t hear.
“Fucking New Yorkers,” Chase grunts, moving me a pace away and finally letting me go.
I’m too entranced to notice, and a little flame of excitement kindles in me at the thought of telling Sunny. She would freaking love this.
“Come on, party people!” an older woman in a deep pink shell suit and neon bobbled pigtails yells at the front, clapping her hands above the air.
I’m not the only one who has stopped to look. Tourists scramble to flash photos and even seasoned New Yorkers look amused.
“Watch it, dude,” Chase gripes as a man with a rotund belly peeking out beneath his disco crop top powerwalks past with disco fingers in the air a little too close.
“Oh, will you lighten up, Wolf Boy?” I slap his arm, watching the dazzling group jog and dance ahead.
“I’ll lighten up on one condition,” he rumbles. “You agree to come away with me.”
I’m not sure if it’s the sunshine and salty scent, the tantalizing mental image of Sunny enjoying a well-earned vacation on the beach, or some of the joy I just absorbed via osmosis from the colorful running club, but I only hesitate for a moment.
“Fuck it, let’s go.”