Chapter 8
Chase
We grab a quick dinner, then head to the rental to change. There’s an easiness between us now. The more time we spend together, the more I notice it. An understanding, maybe. But there’s also an energy I feel when I’m around her. I can’t get enough of it.
She’s something else, this girl.
I’m thinking about some of the things she said when we were out on the bridge, and I get it. I understand what she’s going through. More than she knows.
I loved performing. Feeling the music in my body. The energy from the fans was like nothing I’d ever felt—seeing the joy on their faces would flood my soul. I’d be lying if I said I don’t miss that feeling of living inside the music.
Harper’s like me—the odd one out in that world. Someone with real heart who cares deeply about the music and the joy and emotion it brings to her fans, but she’s surrounded by greed. Those assholes are wearing her down. Sucking the life out of her.
No wonder she had to get away. When you’re in that environment too long, you lose any sense of yourself. It eats away at your soul, little by little, until one day you realize there’s nothing left.
It feels good to see her getting her footing again, but it makes me sad too, because she can’t stay away from it forever. Tomorrow she goes back, and that whole cycle starts again.
Makes me wish I could wrap her up in my arms and keep her heart safe. Protect her from all of it. Make it possible for her to have every last bit of the good she loves about that world while staving off the bad.
But that’s not my life anymore. I’ll never go back.
We reach the house, but I’m unsettled now.
Conflicted about my feelings for her, maybe.
I dress quickly, then call Lexie to try and shore her up before Dad breaks her heart again, but she doesn’t answer.
Harper’s still upstairs, so I touch base with Cass, then try sitting on the couch while I wait, but I’m too wound up.
In the end, I pace the floor in the great room for twenty minutes until she calls down that she’s ready to go.
But when she appears at the top of the stairs, I’m stunned.
Sure, the wig and the eye patch are back, and the fake birthmark’s reappeared, in a slightly different place this time.
But she’s got the wig toned down, and she’s in a silver sequined gown that’s formfitting.
It goes all the way to her ankles and has a long slit up one side.
As she descends the stairs, I take a good, long look at her toned legs.
And again, with the five-inch spiked heels. She looks fucking incredible in them, but…
“You sure you can dance in those?” Not that I think she should be dancing anyway. It’ll only attract attention. But she’s excited about the ball, and I wouldn’t mind checking out her moves.
“Of course! These are the shoes I wear for the last half of my show. But I think they work with this dress.”
She masterfully executes a twirl, and I admit that, yes, they work.
She’s smoking hot.
But I’m thinking about the eye patch. “What about your depth perception?” I tap my cheek to indicate it.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got it down now.”
I lock up the house, then watch her round hips sway gently as she navigates the front steps like a total pro.
I know I shouldn’t, but I come up alongside her, bringing my hand to her lower back as we walk to the car.
I let my fingers graze the curve of her ass as she climbs in, and her toned, firm body under my fingertips sends a tingling sensation straight to my groin.
In an instant my mind is swimming with thoughts of stripping that pretty dress back off and putting my hands and my mouth all over her.
My dick is already standing at attention. But that’s not the plan. This isn’t even a date. I’m just taking her out so she can go dancing.
Stay on target. Don’t lose focus.
She smiles up at me from her seat, one green eye sparkling under thick, long lashes, and I swallow hard.
What have I gotten myself into?
This was a bad idea.
The moment we set foot inside the ballroom, with its glittering atmosphere and lively music, her face lit up like Christmas morning.
She’s been dancing ever since—all by herself—and she’s incredible. The way she moves is smooth and confident. Every curve jiggling in perfect rhythm. It’s excruciating.
She keeps trying to get me to join her. “Come on!”
I shake my head. “Nah.”
But she turns to wiggle her ass in my direction, and my dick throbs in response.
“Aren’t you worried I’m gonna attract too much attention, dancing all by myself?” she teases, looking back over her shoulder to grin at me.
I scowl in fun, but she has a good point. Her body in that dress alone would be enough to attract attention, but with the dance steps she’s executing effortlessly out there, she’s got a dozen men watching her with interest. Several women are staring too, admiring her moves.
But I know dancing with Harper would only make things worse. I’m already struggling to keep my feelings for her under control, and I have to stay vigilant.
I tug at my collar, desperate for some cooler air.
“Your loss.” She winks, then does a long, fancy twirl, and there’s pure joy in it. Absolute abandon.
It makes my chest squeeze hard, because she’s doing it: enjoying her own real-life moment out there on that dance floor.
Being human.
At one point there’s a pause in the music, and we step over to a large table filled with elegant cupcakes on tiered platters so she can enjoy one.
A couple of our Heartline Security guys are here with their clients, and Cass must have clued them in on Harper’s special situation, because they both give me a nod to let me know they’re looking out for us.
Harper’s impressed with her cupcake, so she goes back to tell the woman manning the table how delicious it was, and I smile. It’s a sweet gesture.
After a while, the lights dim, and the mood in the room shifts as the DJ spins up an older R&B song with a heavy bass groove.
Harper’s jaw drops. “Ohhh, that’s it! You’re dancing with me on this one.
” She struts onto the dance floor. “Get out here.” She points disco-style toward her feet, jerking her head back in a gesture for me to join her, but I flash her my palm.
She pouts in fun, then starts in with some even sexier moves, grinding to the beat and gyrating her hips.
Holy hell, she’s fucking hot. I don’t know how much more of this I can handle.
A harmless-looking couple is dancing nearby, but then I look on in horror as the man moves in to dance with Harper instead of his own date. He’s not touching her at all, but he’s handsome, and he knows his way around the dance floor.
She smiles back at him, but seeing Harper dancing with another man is making me sweat more than I already was. I ball my fists at my sides, attempting to ease the tension clawing up my neck and regain control. But when he moves in closer, his hand brushing her hip, I can’t hold back.
I stride onto the dance floor, mirroring her rhythm as I approach.
Her uncovered eye is wide with delight as she leaves her new friend in her wake, gyrating in time with my body. “Holy shit. Look at you!”
Yeah. I have a few dance moves of my own that will put that man to shame.
She steps to me, and I bring my hands to her hips.
“You’re really good.”
“So are you,” I whisper against her ear, and she grins. It’s thrilling, having her body against mine as we find our groove, feeling that rhythm together. Almost effortless—as though we’ve been dancing together our whole lives.
She moves in closer, and I feel her breasts press to my chest as we dance. Her eyes lock on mine, and when she sways her hips in my hands, I can’t help myself. I let my fingers slide lower, feeling the curve of her ass. But it’s clear I’ve miscalculated.
I was already at half-mast, and now she shoots me a sly grin, then turns her back to settle her round ass against my thighs, and I’m a fucking goner.
She’s bouncing to the rhythm, brushing against my cock, and there’s no way she’s unaware of my situation. It takes every ounce of resolve to keep my hands from wandering all over her incredible ass, but I keep them anchored at her hips.
We grind together until she mercifully spins back to face me, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. It sends a wave of emotions rolling through me. Intense desire. Admiration. And so much tenderness.
She holds my gaze as the song comes to an end, but my eyes are already drifting down—finding her lips—and when her tongue darts out to lick them, I know I need to taste her.
Just this once.
My heart pounds in my chest, and I bring my hand to her cheek. Her skin feels so soft under my touch, and when she tips her chin up gently, it sends a thrill up my spine, and I bend to her, aching to feel the sweet press of her lips against mine. But a shrill sound rings out, startling me.
I stumble back.
BEEEEP. BEEEEP. BEEEEP. BEEEEP.
Shit! It’s my phone, sounding the alarm for Heartline’s emergency rotation: line 214. Something serious.
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure yet.” I dig my phone out to read the alert.
CASS: Chase, her cover’s blown. The stalker is here. Get her to the safe house. NOW!