Chapter Nineteen
Annabelle
Inoticed the headache first. You'd think I would have noticed the six feet of man in bed with me, but I hadn't had that much champagne in years.
Almost as long since I'd woken up with a man in my bed.
It took me a minute to get my bearings.
Throbbing head, check.
Scratchy eyes, check.
Dry mouth, check.
Tender between my legs? Oh, yeah. That.
Rolling to my side I looked at Chase, relaxed and defenseless in sleep. I resisted the urge to trace the line of his cheekbone with my fingertip.
He was like me. He never slept in. I already knew I wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, but I didn't have to wake him up.
I waited for the rush of regret.
Waited to start second-guessing myself, to wonder what the hell I'd been thinking.
It never happened.
I watched Chase sleep, his blonde lashes fanned against his golden cheeks, his face relaxed as it never was when he was awake.
So much focus, no matter what he was doing. He had the gift of giving 100% of his attention, all the time. Defenseless in sleep, he reminded me of a boy, all his responsibilities, his ambitions, his goals set aside for the moment.
I hadn't been sure. Sure that I wanted him, yes. I'd known that since the first time I laid eyes on him. How could any woman not want Chase Westbrook? Then later, more than attraction, I'd wanted him.
I'd been blessed in my life. Like everyone, I’ve had some rough spots, but I’ve always had the best of friends since before I was old enough to appreciate what that meant.
And still, in such a short time, Chase had become necessary. The friend I wanted most, all the time.
Now I had to admit to myself that he'd always been so much more than a friend. That I'd always wanted this, always wanted what we'd done the night before.
What I hoped we'd keep doing.
And if it went wrong?
The thought tore at my heart, tore at the scars I'd built up since my divorce.
Chase was worth the risk.
He was worth everything.
And if it went wrong, I'd survive. I'd find a way.
I thought of Mrs. W and Abel. I knew how she felt, being hurt and finding safety, then being terrified to let that go. Terrified to try again and risk the pain.
Chase was a gift.
He'd offered himself to me, and if I turned my back, I deserved to be alone.
He was beautiful. His heart. His patience.
His body. Oh, his body. It was everything I'd imagined and more.
The lines of the circuit board tattoo spread across his chest. I traced my finger above them, almost, but not quite touching him, and found a tiny, delicate violet hidden between the circuits.
How could I not adore a guy who got a tattoo for his beloved baby sister?
His shoulders were broad, muscles more defined than a keyboard jockey should have. I wanted to let him sleep in, but I couldn't imagine he'd mind if I woke him early by…
Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of the clock and barely managed to stop my shriek of alarm. Nine twenty-seven.
Nine twenty-seven.
The wedding breakfast started at ten AM. It would be, as you'd expect from Jacob and Abigail, decadent and formal.
I was un-showered, had sex hair, and a wrinkled dress I'd left on the floor.
It would take at least ten minutes to get down to the formal dining room and find our seats. Which left me barely twenty to get back to my room, get dressed, and be there on time.
The last thing I wanted was to stumble in late. They'd know why I'd slept in. They weren't stupid. But the night before was ours. I wanted it to stay that way, just for a little while.
I thought about waking Chase, but I knew men well enough to know that he would not appreciate how much time I'd need to get ready.
He'd roll out of bed, stand under the shower for five minutes, throw on his suit and be done.
As much as I'd love to do other things in bed with him, I had no time.
Less than no time.
Sliding out of bed, I snatched my underwear and dress off the floor, ducking into the bathroom. I didn't bother with the bustier, rolling it tightly in my hand. I could shove it in Chase's suitcase for now.
The last thing I wanted was to be caught walking down the hall with my underwear in my hands.
Not happening.
I yanked up the zipper, finger combed my sex hair until it looked more tousled than recently bedded, and opened the door to the bathroom.
Chase lay on his side, propped up on an elbow, his eyes wide and lit from within until they narrowed on my dress and flashed to the sandals on my feet.
As if a switch had been flipped, the light went out.
My stomach sank.
Something was wrong. "I—"
"Sneaking out?" Chase's voice was cold. Accusing.
"No, I—"
"I wondered if that's how this would go," he said looking away as if the sight of me hurt his eyes. "I should have known."
"Chase, the breakfast. I have to get dressed. I…I wasn't—"
His piercing blue eyes had gone flat, like stone. The sick feeling in my gut spread.
I thought… I thought this was…
Maybe I'd been wrong.
Maybe we were just friends and he wanted to get laid and all that flirting had been for fun.
I hadn't thought Chase was like Evers, one of those guys who flirted as easily as he breathed, but what the hell did I know about reading men?
I had a failed marriage behind me that said I did not understand the opposite sex.
Maybe I'd been so busy building walls against Chase, I hadn't realized I didn't need to bother.
In the end, he'd only wanted sex.
My tongue tangled, tripping over itself as I tried to figure out what to say. Another look at the clock on the bedside table told me I'd better think of something fast, or I'd be rolling into breakfast in last night's dress with my hair sticking out in all directions.
I didn't get the chance.
Chase sat up, the sheet pooling around his waist. He flicked his hair out of his eyes and speared me with a look so irritated, so dismissive, I felt no bigger than an ant.
"Don't worry about it," he said, with a shrug of one shoulder. "You might as well go. We're done. I get it."
"I—"
I went still, trying to understand what he wanted me to say.
We're done?
Done like this was a one-night stand? Or done like, like over? Like he had what he wanted and he didn't want anymore?
I'd been here before. In high school, and once in college. The sweet cute guy who laid in with the flirting and the invitations to dinner, calling and giving me flowers right up until I put out. Then nothing.
I knew my part in the script.
I hadn't thought I'd have to play it with Chase.
Just to make sure that I wasn't jumping to conclusions I said, "You want me to go. Because we're done."
"You're on your way," he said obliquely. "Don't let me stop you."
I should have expected it.
I didn't, and every word was a punch to the gut.
Dropping my head so he couldn't see my eyes, I nodded. I grabbed my tiny evening purse from the chair where I'd dropped it and made a beeline for the door, my cheeks burning, my eyes already starting to well with tears.
I heard my name as the door swung shut behind me, but I didn't turn around. I'd had a few too many glasses of champagne the night before, and I must have misunderstood.
At least I'd gotten a few orgasms out of it. I'd ended my dry spell in a spectacular fashion. And it was good to know that was all Chase wanted before I got in any deeper, right?
My room was at the other end of the hall and up a floor from Chase's. I trudged through the door, heartsick and numb.
Looking at the time on the clock, I let out a breath. I'd have to hurry if I wanted to make breakfast.
Not hurry, I'd have to move at light speed to get ready in time. I knew that. I knew the seconds were ticking away, and yet, when I stood under the hot spray of the shower, I didn't move.
I didn't wash my hair or shave my legs or scrub body wash over my skin.
I stood in the steamy heat and let the water wash away my tears, feeling sick at heart.
Sick and tired and so, so foolish.