Chapter 29 Game Over
Game Over
The entire time Savannah was in the shower, her mind was racing.
How the hell was she going to get back at Chase for what he just did?
For leaving her like that, desperate, on the edge of complete oblivion—only to walk away and clean the damn kitchen like he hadn’t just fucked her mind?
The arrogance. The cruelty. The absolute nerve.
She had been seconds away from unraveling for him, from falling apart completely, and he had just walked away.
She clenched her jaw, letting the hot water cascade over her, but no amount of heat could burn away the frustration still pooling in her stomach.
No, she needed payback.
And then?
It hit her.
She knew exactly what she was going to do.
A slow, wicked smirk curled at her lips as she finished her shower, dried off, and slipped into absolutely nothing but a towel, securing it loosely around her chest.
Time to play.
Savannah descended the stairs like she had all the time in the world—calm, composed, completely unbothered. Every step was deliberate, a slow, teasing display of confidence as she wrapped herself tighter in the towel, making sure it barely skimmed mid-thigh.
Chase was just leaving the kitchen, arms crossed over that annoyingly perfect chest, his weight shifted lazily onto one foot like he had all the patience in the world. His eyes tracked her descent, that signature smirk of his curving at the edges, like he knew something she didn’t.
Like he thought he still had the upper hand.
Cocky bastard.
She stopped just inches away from him, the air crackling between them. The scent of her still-warm skin, fresh from the shower, mingled with the remnants of whatever damn cologne he wore—something rich, something masculine, something that made her want to lose her mind.
She tilted her head, playing it smooth. “Did you get everything done, Montgomery?”
His brows lifted slightly, his smirk deepening like he saw straight through her act. “Yeah, sweetheart. Everything’s cleaned up and put away.”
Savannah hummed, slow and sweet, letting her eyes drop deliberately, dragging her gaze down his torso.
Her focus barely skimmed over the cut of his abs, the deep V disappearing beneath those loose gray sweatpants before she flicked her attention back up, meeting his gaze with a slow, satisfied smile.
“Good,” she said, voice syrupy smooth. “I’m so glad you were able to handle that.”
Chase’s smirk turned downright sinful. “Me too.”
Then—
Without warning, his hand snapped out, landing a sharp, solid smack against her ass.
Savannah gasped, her body jolting at the impact, a sharp sting blooming across her skin, heat surging so fast she forgot how to breathe for a second. Her fingers curled into her towel, her spine going rigid, but before she could even process the damn audacity—
He just kept walking.
Up the stairs.
Like nothing happened.
Like he hadn’t just set her entire body on fire with one ruthless, punishing slap.
He didn’t look back.
Didn’t check to see her reaction.
Didn’t wait for retaliation.
Just walked away, slow and easy, all broad shoulders and rolling muscle, like the cocky motherfucker he was, leaving her standing there—stunned, seething, and undeniably wrecked.
Savannah pressed her lips together, inhaling sharply as her pulse throbbed in places it shouldn’t. Her skin still tingled, burning from where his palm had landed, from where the heat of him still lingered.
Focus. Stick to the plan. He doesn’t get to win this one.
By the time Chase made it to the bathroom, he was already stripping off his shorts, completely unbothered, his movements slow, methodical. He tossed them into the hamper, stretching slightly, muscles flexing as he grabbed a towel from the closet, tossing it onto the counter.
The shower turned on with a low hiss, steam curling through the air, thickening with each passing second.
He laid his fresh clothes on the bed, not rushing, not thinking—because Savannah was downstairs.
He had a few minutes to himself.
He stepped into the shower, the hot water pounding against his shoulders, muscles relaxing as he ran a hand through his damp hair, exhaling for what felt like the first time since she’d started her little game at breakfast.
The past hour had been torture—her teasing smirks, the way she’d dragged her fingertips across his skin like she wasn’t fucking with him, like she wasn’t already winning.
And now?
Now, he had space.
Now, he could breathe.
He reached for the shampoo, lathering it into his hair, closing his eyes as the heat eased the tension in his body.
And then—
He heard it.
The faint sound of the TV turning on downstairs.
Good.
She was occupied.
Which meant he could take his time, clean himself up, clear his fucking head.
He worked the shampoo through his hair, fingers dragging over his scalp, muscles finally unwinding, every inch of him sinking into the bliss of solitude.
Until—
Until he felt it.
A hand.
Small. Soft. Warm.
Gripping him.
Chase’s entire body went rigid, his pulse roaring to life, his brain struggling to process what the fuck was happening—
Then?
Then he heard her.
A soft, satisfied hum.
Wicked. Knowing. Dangerous.
His eyes snapped open just in time to look down—
And fuck.
There she was.
On her knees. In the shower. Looking up at him with those big, dark eyes, the steam swirling around her like she belonged in some goddamn fantasy.
The smirk on her lips said everything.
This was payback.
And Savannah?
She was just getting started.
Chase froze, every muscle in his body going tight as a damn wire as he looked down at her.
Savannah was kneeling in front of him, her body glistening under the spray of the shower, steam curling around her like a fucking vision of sin.
But it was her eyes that really did him in.
Smug. Dark. Dangerous.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
Her fingers wrapped around him, stroking slow, teasing, her touch deliberate, unhurried—
Cruel.
Because she was playing with him.
Giving him just enough to make him burn but not enough to relieve the pressure that had been building all damn morning.
His jaw clenched hard, his hands fisting at his sides as he fought the overwhelming need to take control.
To grab her. To flip the fuckin’ script. To wreck her first.
But he didn’t.
He couldn’t.
Because this?
This was her game now.
And fuck if that wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
Savannah tilted her head, her nails scraping lightly against his thigh, sending a full-body shudder through him.
“Something wrong, Montgomery?” she asked, her voice sweet as honey, but dripping with challenge.
His breath came out ragged, his fingers twitching. “Savannah—”
She smirked. “You look a little—tense.”
His biceps flexed, his entire body wired tight, the muscles in his stomach contracting with every slow, deliberate stroke of her hand.
“Fuck—” He cut off, his head falling back against the tile, his breath coming sharp, uneven.
She loved it.
Loved seeing him come undone.
Loved having this power over him, the same way he had over her all damn morning.
Her hand moved again, tighter, stronger, her nails scraping lightly over his skin, her lips ghosting just close enough to make him suffer.
Chase let out a deep, wrecked groan, his restraint dangling by a thread.
She could tell he was seconds from breaking.
Seconds from grabbing her, pushing her into the shower wall, giving her exactly what she’d been teasing him with.
And that’s when she knew—
It was time.
Savannah licked her lips, but this wasn’t hesitation.
This was her claiming her big, long, fucking prize.
She didn’t ease in.
Didn’t tease.
Didn’t go slow.
No, the second her hands gripped his thighs for balance, she took him into her mouth in one sharp, wet, filthy motion, her tongue flattening, her lips stretching as she swallowed him deep.
Chase’s curse ripped through the steam, a raw, helpless sound, his fingers slamming against the tile behind him, his entire body locking up.
“Jesus—fuck—”
Savannah didn’t stop.
Didn’t slow down.
Didn’t give him time to breathe, think, or recover.
She hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard, dragging her nails down his tense, flexing thighs, her own thighs clenching at the sounds pouring from his lips.
She wanted him gone.
Wanted him shattered.
Wanted him to come completely undone for her.
She pulled back just enough to let him feel the drag of her tongue, flicking over the tip before she let him slide down her throat again, her nails digging into his skin as she set a brutal fucking pace.
Chase let out a choked groan, his fingers twitching, his jaw tight as hell, his hips fighting to stay still.
“Fucking hell, Savannah—”
She moaned around him, her eyes flicking up to his, and fuck—
She had never seen him like this.
His head tipped back, his throat taut, his chest rising and falling unevenly, his muscles shaking under her hands, his fingers curling into fists because he was holding back.
Trying to be good.
Trying to let her have this.
But Savannah?
She didn’t want him to hold back.
She wanted him wild.
Wanted him unhinged.
Wanted him mentally, fucked.
So she fucking told him.
She pulled off him with a sharp, wet pop, her tongue dragging one long, slow lick up his length before she smirked up at him, her voice a low, dangerous whisper.
“Stop fucking fighting it, Montgomery.”
His head snapped down, his eyes feral, his chest heaving.
Savannah pressed her nails into his hips, her lips hovering over him, close enough to tease, close enough to make him fucking beg.
“I want it,” she murmured, her breath hot against his skin.
“I want you to fuck me like you’ve been dreaming about all fucking morning.”
Chase cursed so viciously it sounded like a growl.
She pressed up against him, soaking wet, flushed, desperate, and reached between them, wrapping her fingers firmly around his aching length, feeling how hard, how fucking ready he was.
Her eyes locked on his, dark and dangerous, her voice a low, sultry rasp.
“I want you to release, Montgomery.”
His entire body locked up, his hands tensing against her thighs, his jaw clenching so tight he looked seconds from losing every ounce of restraint he had left.
But Savannah?
She wasn’t done.
She dragged his hand between her legs, letting him feel how fucking wrecked she was for him.
How wet.
How ready.
How much she needed him to let go.
Her lips brushed against his ear, and fuck, she loved how hard he shuddered at the feeling.
“You need to give it to me.”
Chase groaned, wrecked, feral, his fingers flexing against her, his hips grinding into her with barely controlled restraint.
She dragged her tongue along the shell of his ear, pure fucking sin dripping from her voice.
“I want it. Deep, Hard, Rough” She moaned. "Fuck me like your life depends on it."
That was it.
That was his breaking point.
With a low, guttural curse, Chase grabbed her, lifted her, and slammed her back against the tile, his mouth crashing into hers with raw, unhinged desperation.
Savannah gasped against his lips, her nails clawing down his back, her body arching into his, grinding against him, needing him closer, deeper, harder.
Chase let out a low, possessive growl, his fingers digging into her thighs, spreading her open, his other hand tangling in her hair, tilting her head back to take everything he wanted.
“No more fucking games,” he rasped against her lips, his voice rough, edged, completely destroyed.
Savannah smirked, wrapping her legs tighter around him, pulling him in exactly where she needed him most.
“No more fucking holding back.”
Chase let out a sound that was half growl, half plea, his forehead dropping to hers, his body so tense, so desperate, so wrecked for her he looked seconds from coming undone.
“Savannah—”
She reached between them, gripping him, positioning him, teasing him, but not letting him inside just yet.
Her lips brushed against his, her breath hot, heavy, relentless.
“Give it to me, Chase.”
And then?
He shoves it in.
Savannah's head rolls back against the tile wall. Her back sliding up and down the coarse grout lines. With each thrust, her moans get louder. Each thrust, she gets closer.
She wraps her arms around him, "Fuck, I'm coming." She shouts.
Her words sending chills across Chase's body. Exciting him more, making him thrust harder, faster.
"Release, Give it to me." She whispers as she wraps her legs around him tighter.
A low growl escapes his throat, as if he about to.
And Then—