42. Chase
Chase
I’m sitting at my desk, sorting through inventory when Simon’s voice cuts through the stereo. “Sarge! What do you want me to do with the old fuel lines?”
I push back from my chair and head out to the main bar. Simon’s crouched beside the pale blue Beetle, holding up a length of cracked rubber tubing like a dead snake.
“Toss them,” I say, leaning against the workbench. “They’re shot. New ones are in the box on the shelf.”
He nods as I slide my cell from my pocket to check the time: 5:30 p.m. already. I rub my forehead. “Just head home after you throw them out. You can work on them tomorrow.”
“You sure?” he asks.
I glance at the car. “Yeah, go enjoy your evening.”
He wiggles his eyebrows. “She’s looking good, hey? Almost done?”
“Almost there.”
The side door to the shop slams open so hard it bounces off the wall.
My and Simon’s heads snap toward the sound.
Summer.
She’s standing in the doorway, eyes wide, chest heaving, eyes red-rimmed.
Shit. “Summer?”
“Office,” she says, storming past me.
“Sarge?” Simon shoots me a quizzical look.
I wave him off. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Simon.”
“Uh … should I—”
“Go home.” I’m already moving.
I follow Summer into the office, my heart hammering against my ribs. She’s standing in the center of the room, looking anywhere but at me.
Are those—shit—she’s crying.
She doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.
“Summer … you’re scaring me.”
“You sold your truck,” she finally rasps.
The ground opens under my feet.
“What?” I ask.
“Your truck.” Her voice wavers, her stormy gaze locking onto mine. “The one your parents bought you after graduation.” A cry slips past her lips. “You sold it.”
I can’t breathe.
“Addie told me.” She steps closer. My feet remain rooted to the spot. “She didn’t mean to—it slipped out. But she told me, Chase. She told me the money wasn’t hers. It was yours.”
I don’t say anything.
“Ten years I thought Addie saved my life.” Another step. “Ten years I’ve been grateful for that envelope. And the whole time—the whole goddamn time—it was you.”
My shoulders tense. “Summer—”
“You let me believe it was her!” she shouts. “You let me leave thinking my best friend gave up her savings for me, when really it was you! You sold your truck so I could run away from you!”
“So you could run away from him!” I boom, my own composure fraying. “So you could get the hell out of this town before he killed you.”
She flinches, her chest heaving. “You should have told me!”
“You wouldn’t have taken it!”
“Of course I wouldn’t have taken it!” she throws back.
“You were covered in blood. You had nothing. No money, no plan, nowhere to go. What was I supposed to do?” I jab a finger at my chest. “I did that to you. I couldn’t let you walk out into the world with empty pockets and hope for the best.”
“Your parents bought the car for you. You had nothing, Chase.”
“No.” I erase the space between us, gripping her shoulders gently. “Knowing you were safe meant I had everything.”
“But your truck—”
“Fuck the truck!” The words explode out of me. “It’s just a piece of metal, Hayes. I couldn’t care less about the truck.”
Her lip trembles and the sight cracks something in my chest. “Is that why you stayed? Why you didn’t go to UCLA?”
I cup her face. “I stayed because I decided to help my parents financially. I was offered an apprenticeship with Earl, and I took it. I would have stayed, regardless of what happened between you and me.”
Her gaze falls to the floor.
“You were the only thing that mattered. I would have sold my soul if it meant you had a roof over your head.”
Hot tears fall down her cheeks. “You gave up your dream.”
“I would do it again.” My voice is raw, scraped bare. “Sell everything I own. Empty every account. Burn my life to the ground if it meant keeping you safe.” I press my forehead to hers. “You were my dream.”
“You’ve given up so much,” she whispers, her eyes drifting close as she takes measured breaths.
I drop a soft kiss to her temple, then the other. “Look at me, baby.”
She does, and I swipe my thumbs over her splotched cheeks.
“None of it meant anything without you. Don’t you understand that by now?”
Her eyes shimmer and glisten with moisture. Even in her pain, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“I don’t know what to do with you,” she whispers, and for a second, I wonder if she meant to say it out loud.
A strand of hair sticks to her wet cheeks, and I brush it away.
She searches me as my fingers wind through her hair, tipping her head back so I can see her—all of her. The small slope of her nose, the faint hitch in her breath, the delicate flutter of her pulse along the smooth line of her neck.
She reaches for my mouth and I meet her halfway, inhaling sharply. Her back arches, closing the space between us. The moment our lips touch, I’m done for.
My grip on her tightens and every nerve lights up and hums. I want to taste her. To feel her. To lose myself in her.
My hand moves reverently along her jaw, down the soft column of her throat, tracing the hollow at her collarbone before dipping lower toward her waist. I pull her closer, pressing her hips into mine.
She exhales and the sound shoots straight to my dick.
I guide her backward, step by step, never breaking contact, until her thighs hit the edge of my desk. The kiss falters long enough for me to lift her with ease, setting her atop the wood. Papers scatter and fall to the floor with the movement, but I don’t care.
I need to be inside her.
Her legs part instinctively and I’m drawn between them like gravity.
My fingertips trace a light path up her bare thighs, inching under the thin fabric of her dress. Her skin is warm and she shudders under my touch.
Her head falls back, exposing more of that neck I can’t seem to leave alone.
Her hands tangle in my dirty shirt, fisting tightly like she needs something to hold on to.
“Don’t stop,” she whispers.
My tongue tangles with hers as my hands trail higher, firm now.
She fumbles with my belt. Her fingers slip twice before finding their rhythm. I pull back just enough to watch her, taking in the way her lips part in concentration, and her brows knit slightly as she works the leather.
The buckle gives, and she pops the button on my jeans. I help her push my pants and briefs down enough to expose my desperate cock.
A whimper slips past her lips when she takes in my stiffness.
Hard and red and angry for her.
Her skirt is rucked up to her waist, exposing the damp patch of fabric covering her heat. I hook my thumbs under the waistline of her thong, dragging it down her legs and discarding it.
My nostrils flare when I see how wet, plump, and pink she is.
“I need you,” I say.
“I need you too.”
A rough grumble reverberates through my chest.
Carefully, I pull the spaghetti straps off her shoulders, pushing the fabric down until it gathers at her waist. Her breasts spill free, rising with each unsteady breath.
The pad of my thumb connects with her slick, naked core, and I moan. “You’re so wet,” I murmur, holding her legs open and guiding myself into her drenched entrance.
I don’t slam into her. My eyes bore into hers as I slowly slide inside with a shuddering breath.
She takes me perfectly, stretching wide until I’m fully seated. I stuff her so full, she takes a few deep breaths to adjust to my size.
“Tell me how good it feels.”
She plants her palms on the desk, holding herself steady as she looks at where we join. “It feels so good.”
I hook my hand under one thigh, slinging it up over my hip. I drag her forward until her ass almost hangs off the desk. Then I move.
Slowly at first, dragging myself in and out in lazy strokes, reveling in her soft, velvety center, whispering words of endless affection.
She arches upward, one hand holding her balance while the other sinks into my hair, tugging me closer. Our mouths meet in hunger.
Her lips part, and she begs for more.
I groan, pulling her closer as I pick up the pace. “God, you feel so incredible.”
“So do you,” she pants.
I pepper kisses across her face and down her throat, and she holds me close.
Her whimpers turn into desperate cries as I really pummel her, hammering my cock in and out of her until the room is full of slick, wet sounds. My hips pump with fever, and her eyes blaze with heat.
“Are you mine?” I grit out.
“I’m yours,” she rasps.
I sweep back the strands of hair that cling to her forehead. “You’ll always be mine.”
She nods as short, breathy sounds tumble out of her.
I groan against her sweet mouth as my hips snap back and forth. Her fingernails claw at the nape of my neck as she rocks and writhes into me.
I drop a hand, kneading her breast, her flesh soft and pliant as my thumb runs circles over her hardened nipple. She cries out and embers spark to life at the base of my spine.
This woman will destroy me. Mind, body, and soul. And I don’t have a choice. I’m rendered powerless.
I can’t help but drop my gaze to stare where we join, watching us come together.
“Jesus, Summer.”
“I’m close!”
I rut into her, harder and harder, hitting deep. My grunts mingle with her moans.
“Oh God,” she cries. “Yes!”
I can tell she’s getting close when her pussy grips my cock tight. I’m wild and feral, pistoning my hips faster with each stroke.
I release my hold on her tit, tugging her head back by her hair, our faces centimeters apart. “Come for me, Summer.”
A single tear spills from her eye as her orgasm rips through her. Her mouth falls open on a long, desperate moan.
“That’s it, baby,” I praise. “Just like that. Give it to me, give it to me.”
Each pump is more graceless than the next as I reach my own climax. A guttural groan pours out as I unload inside her, spurting thick lashings of cum.
She pulses as I continue to spill, rope after rope until she’s so full of my seed, it trickles out of her.
Finally, our shoulders deflate, totally satiated.
I reach for her cheek, forcing her eyes to meet mine. “You’re so beautiful it hurts.”
Cum drunk and spent, a languid smile stretches across her face. “So are you.”
My forehead meets hers. “Stay with me tonight.”
My heart squeezes when she replies, “Always.”