Chapter 21 The Invitation
The Invitation
Unraveling Savannah
And Chase Montgomery was to blame.
She had never been the kind of woman to wait for anything. She made decisions. She moved forward. She never lingered on what-ifs and almosts. But Chase?
He was making her wait.
And it was driving her absolutely insane.
Sitting cross-legged on the couch, her phone gripped between her fingers, Savannah stared at the screen, rereading his message for what had to be the twentieth time that morning, her pulse hammering in her ears.
Chase: I meant what I said. You deserve more than a stolen moment on a dock. You deserve everything. I’m going to give you that. Just wait.
Her breath hitched.
Wait?
How the hell was she supposed to wait when every inch of her body was still burning from his touch, from his lips, from the way his voice had wrapped around her like a damn sin?
And worse?
He knew what he was doing to her.
The man was a menace. A beautiful, smug, self-controlled menace.
Her phone buzzed again.
Chase: Dinner at my place tonight. Bring Mallory. Nate will be there. 7:30.
A pause.
Then—
Chase: No excuses, Monroe.
Savannah smirked, fingers already moving over the keyboard.
Savannah: Bossy.
Chase: And yet, you’re still reading my messages like they’re your new favorite sin.
Her breath caught.
Oh, he was good.
Savannah: Cocky much?
Chase: Not cocky. Confident. There’s a difference.
Savannah: Mm. Debatable.
Chase: You want to debate it?
A slow heat curled in her stomach.
Savannah: Depends. How good are you at convincing a woman to change her mind?
The response came instantly.
Chase: Monroe, I don’t need to convince you of anything.
Her thighs pressed together.
Jesus Christ.
Savannah let a few seconds pass before she typed her next message, wanting to make him wait—make him feel the burn for once.
Savannah: Is that so?
Chase: I don’t have to convince you, because you’re already picturing it.
Her fingers trembled slightly over the keyboard.
Chase: You’re already thinking about the way my hands felt on you. About the way I kissed you slow just to hear that little sound you make when you want more.
Her breath hitched.
Chase: You’re thinking about how my hands felt in your hair. How I could’ve pulled you under me, pinned your wrists above your head, taken my time tasting every damn inch of you.
Oh, hell.
Savannah clenched the phone in her grip, heat pooling in her belly.
He was not playing fair.
Savannah: You seem very sure of yourself, Montgomery.
Chase: Not sure of myself, sweetheart.
A pause.
Chase: Sure of you.
Her pulse slammed against her ribs.
And then, just when she was about to tell him exactly how infuriating he was, another message came through.
Chase: But like I said… you deserve more than a stolen moment on a dock.
Her stomach clenched.
Damn him.
Damn him and his restraint.
Savannah: You’re a dangerous man, Chase Montgomery.
Chase: And you, Savannah Monroe, are going to love every second of it.
Savannah bit her lip, staring at the screen.
She was so screwed.
And she couldn’t fucking wait.