20. Pepper
It’s dark when Chase opens the passenger door and reaches over to unbuckle me. My exhaustion is real. I didn’t sleep much last night when I went back into Chase’s bedroom by myself. After he’d yelled at me for spacing out and insisted I tell him why.
I lay in bed last night expecting him to greet me in the morning with a well-rehearsed monologue on how this isn’t working out. That he’d made a mistake thinking we could fool everyone.
I expected him to drop me off at the cottage this morning then head straight to the Inn to talk to his brothers about an alternative to my hideout.
But…he stayed with me. Helped me go through Elliot’s things. Talking, laughing, and telling me stories as if last night’s argument hadn’t happened.
I thought it was out of guilt. Some sort of obligation he felt to either me—or the brother he lost so…I played along.
And then…he looked for me.
Not only did he look for me. He found me. Somehow, he figured out where I’d be.
And he held me. He held me hard. Like he wanted me to feel nothing but his arms. Nothing but the fact that someone is here for me. Someone will hold me when I’m falling apart.
“Can you walk?” Chase’s deep voice brings me out of my daze.
I smile weakly. “If I say no, will you carry me?”
A breathy grin as he holds out his hand. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty.”
“Another princess.”
“What?”
“Cinderella…Sleeping Beauty. That’s what you call me. Princess.”
He pushes strands of hair behind my ear and extends a hand. “I think I’ve been selling you short.”
We step into the dark house, and Chase immediately flicks on the lights, keeping me at his side. He sweeps the open space with his eyes before releasing me.
“Everything okay?”
“Just being extra cautious.”
I slip off his jacket and step into the kitchen, needing water—or a good scotch to lessen the anxiety I’m feeling over what I confessed to Chase back at the lake.
We haven’t talked about it. I’m not even sure he plans to. He must think I’m crazy. Or maybe emotional? In denial?
Probably thinks all those things.
A big brown bag sits on the counter with a bottle of red wine next to it.
Chase steps behind me and sighs. “That’s either Dad or Noah.” He plucks the note stapled to it and shows it to me. I blink twice to make out the message.
On the house.
He tosses it with a grin. “You hungry?”
I shake my head. “Just water.”
Chase starts to move around the kitchen like he owns the place. He fills a generous glass and sets it down for me on the counter. I reach for it, noticing my hands. I’m covered in dirt. My hands, arms, knees, ankles.
“Shit. I’m so dirty,” I mutter.
“It’s okay—”
I shake my head, looking down at myself, my nose burning for some reason as tears threaten to fall—again. I think back to the way he found me. My knees on the ground. My body cold. My mind a wreck. My heart drowning.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He crosses to me in an instant. He doesn’t ask me what I’m sorry for. He knows.
He mutters something about getting me cleaned up and takes my hand, leading me to the bathroom.
He steps in and tugs me inside. It’s not my first time in here, but it feels smaller with both of us.
He pulls the curtain and starts the water. Steam fills the room quickly, and he returns to me, scanning me once. Something between worry and impatience crosses his features. Setting his fingers firmly on my hips, he presses me gently against a wall and lifts my chin. “Stop running,” he whispers harshly. “You’re home.”
I blink and swallow, not sure where he’s going with this. I have no home. I haven’t had one in years. “Here?”
“No one will touch you here,” he confirms, adding a promise he thinks I need.
I lift my gaze to his, asking for an exception to that promise. “Except you?”
“Only me.”
Something tight releases deep inside me. “Only you.” I nod.
Chase turns from me and checks the water that appears to be scorching, judging from the steam surrounding us. “Lift your arms.”
I raise them over my head, letting him lift my blouse up and over my arms. His eyes dip to my white lace bra. Then he sheds his shirt. My eyes widen as I take him in again. This time—with permission to look. His muscular, carved-to-perfection and ever-so-touchable toned body.
He steps close and looks into my eyes as he undoes the zipper and button of my jeans. He pauses, and my lips part before I give him a small nod.
Hooking his thumbs into the waistband, he drags them down, kneeling to help me step out of them. “I’m coming in with you.” he says, words sharp, leaving no room for argument. Then he exhales like someone just told him to mind his manners. “If it’s alright with you.”
My mouth falls open before I speak. “Okay.”
He flips me around to face the mirror. There’s dirt on my face, hair, and chin. He pulls my hair behind my shoulders, gathering it to one side. From the mirror, I see his eyes dip to the back of my neck. His thumb brushes so gently, it sends a shiver down my spine. “I’m going to wash it all away, beautiful. You don’t have to lift a finger.”
I swallow at the promise of him touching me everywhere I’ve been dying to be since the other night.
My breath catches as he runs his fingers from my neck down my back and unhooks my bra, letting it fall to the floor. Leaving my upper body bare in the mirror.
He tears his gaze from my body and steps back to undress himself.
I take him in. Every magnificent inch. Every lean muscle. Carved to perfection.
He steps inside first then tugs on my hand, pulling me inside and under the spray. It’s more than warm, almost hot. And perfect.
Chase runs his hands on the back of my neck and lifts my hair, holding it under the water, getting it thoroughly soaked, then turns. He pours a generous amount of my mint shampoo in his hands and starts to lather at the base of my scalp. His mouth hovers over mine but he doesn’t kiss me as he works his fingers through every strand before rinsing me off.
I know I’m in trouble when his freshly lathered hands start touching me. My arms, hips, chest, stomach…ass. Still hovering. Still not kissing.
“Chase,” I plead.
He moves his hands to my bikini line before lifting his gaze to mine. “What is it, baby? What do you need?”
“Kiss me,” I ask.
There’s no smirk or even the slightest appreciation for what I’m asking. “Okay. Where?”
I frown.
He dips to kiss my lips—it’s quick, but slightly more than a peck. “Here?”
“Um…yes?”
He squeezes my ass, making me clench. “Or somewhere else?”
I work up the courage to ask what I want.
Courage I never had before.
Until he told me it was okay. Until he started insisting I fight for what I want.
“Make me come again.”
He pulls me hard against his mouth in the kiss I’ve been dying for since we stepped in here. “I thought you’d never ask.”
He soaks my loofa and squeezes it over my shoulders, rinsing me of soap and dirt. When he’s done, he hangs it back on the hook and presses me to the wall. “I knew you’d want more.” He lifts my hands over my head, then slides his down and cups me from behind.
I squirm and whimper. His other hand slides down my side. “I’ve been counting on it.”
I moan with every hot touch of his hands. “Oh God.”
He stops suddenly. “Promise me. Promise me you won’t run from me, Pepper.”
“Are you crazy?” I breathe.
“Insane,” he admits before hungrily crashing his lips over mine. His fingers dip into my center, finding my clit and giving it a stroke.
I gasp.
Then a pull.
I squirm.
Finally, he pumps and twists those fingers in that familiar way that made me wild just the other night.
I could die from this much pleasure. And I haven’t even come yet.
He fingers me leisurely. Too soft. Too gentle. He’s holding back on me. Toying with me or just…going easy?
“Harder. More. Please, Chase.”
I want it to hurt. I want to scream from the pain and pleasure. I want to feel him. Only him.
He nips at my chin then shushes me. “I’m not teasing you, baby. I’m not trying to make you beg. If this is the only time you’re going to let me make you come tonight, I’m making it last.”
“You have me. I’m yours all night. Please make me come, King. I want you to own me.” Shamelessly, I rock against him.
His lip quirks. “A king doesn’t own his queen. He worships her.”
And then, he’s on his knees. Doing exactly that. His fingers reach up, squeezing my breast and a hard sensitive nipple, pulling on it at the same time his mouth covers my mound and his tongue strokes my clit wildly.
It’s an intense pleasure.
Hell, I can come just from the sight of us like this. Naked, wet, my body at his mercy. His at mine.
Before long, I’m quivering, writhing against the tile wall. I scream a long, languid scream as I feel the pleasure start to coil through my veins.
“Yes. God. Yes.”
He doesn’t stop. He sucks hard, pulling my bud between his lips until I’m gripping his shoulders to stand upright.
I scream and come hard again. Harder and sexier than I’ve ever come…before I fall into his arms, sated.
He catches and holds me, then chuckles as he kisses my temple. “That’s my girl.” He lifts me and rinses me under the warm spray before shutting the water off. “Come on, let’s feed you.”
Chase keeps the lights low when he moves to the counter and holds up the bottle of red for me. I nod, eagerly.
With a wink, he pulls two glasses from the cabinet. They don’t match, but Elliot wasn’t the type to pay attention to things like that, I’ve noticed.
He pours and passes one to me, watching as I take a long sip. “Can I ask you a question? About it?”
I nod, ready to tell him anything.
“You ever go back there before?”
I shake my head. “Only in my dreams,” I say with some humor.
He watches me, waiting for more on these…dreams. I don’t like calling them nightmares.
I release a silent breath. “That’s where I go when I space out. It’s where my dreams take me. But they’re not often. They’re triggered. Maybe three…four times a year.”
“By what?”
“Fear, loneliness, a birthday. I feel like it can be anything.”
“Are they…always the same?” His eyes dip with a memory, and I wonder if he’s thinking of Elliot. And the same dream he always has.
“They’re not very clear. Or long. It’s the same place. But the people…they’re always different. I don’t know who they were, but they keep changing. And it’s never my parents.”
We’re both silent for a moment and his tone shifts.
“When your parents were leaving, did they say anything to you out of the ordinary? Did there seem to be a…longer goodbye?”
I shake my head. “I play back their farewell often. It was quick—quicker than usual. Especially Dad. But he also had a hard time looking me in the eye much after…”
His eyes shift and there’s another question. “Were there…secret conversations? Whispering? Anything suspicious or odd in the days before?”
I choke out a laugh. “You sound like the detective questioning me the days that followed the accident.”
He sighs in disappointment. But not at me. “I’m sorry.” He comes around the table and closes the distance. “It’s probably not a good time, anyway.” He glances back at the table. “Why don’t we have some food.”
He sets our plates on the counter wordlessly, then pulls a stool out for me, pushing my wine glass toward me. Once our spread is complete, he sits across from me. “Okay, we’ve got pastrami, roasted potatoes, chicken, grilled veggies, some sort of mango salad. And for later, blueberry pie.”
I bite my lip and scrunch my nose. “I might have a little bit of everything.”
He chuckles then looks like he might say something but holds back.
“What?” I poke.
He sweeps his eyes over me once. “It’s good to have you back.”
“In general or…tonight?” I don’t know why I ask. I don’t know why I need to know.
He shrugs as if it makes no difference. “Both.”