Chapter 10
TEN
CHASE
The dim light from the single lamp on the table casts long shadows across the wooden floor of my cabin.
The air still hums with the energy of our training session—sweat drying on my skin, the faint scent of pine mingling with Fiona's subtle floral shampoo.
She's standing a few feet away, her chest rising and falling in quick breaths, cheeks flushed from the exertion.
Or maybe from something else. We've been at this for hours, me showing her basic self-defense moves: how to break a hold, how to strike at vulnerable points, how to use her environment as a weapon.
It's practical stuff, the kind I learned in the military and honed over years of bouncing between security gigs.
But tonight, with her, it felt different. Too close. Too intimate.
I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, trying to steady myself. "That was good," I say, my voice rougher than I intend. "You're picking it up fast."
Fiona nods, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
Her eyes meet mine for a second, then dart away.
"Thanks. I feel... better. More prepared.
" She pauses, biting her lower lip in that way that drives me insane without her even knowing it.
"But it's late. We should probably stop. Things are getting... heated."
Heated. Yeah, that's one word for it. My pulse is thundering in my ears, and it's not just from the physical workout.
Every time I grabbed her wrist to demonstrate a twist-out, or positioned her body against mine to show a hip throw, the contact sent sparks through me.
Her skin warm under my fingers, her breath hitching when I pulled her close.
I told myself it was just training, nothing more.
But my body's betraying me now, a low ache building that has nothing to do with self-defense.
I step back, putting some distance between us, and nod. "You're right. Get some rest. We'll pick up tomorrow."
She smiles faintly, but there's a tension in it, like she's feeling it too. She turns toward the guest room, but hesitates at the door. "Chase... thank you. For everything. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. She's here because she's running from him— that piece of shit ex-boyfriend, Marcus. Fiona's safety is priority one. Not this... whatever this is churning inside me.
But as she lingers in the doorway, the soft glow of the lamp highlighting the curve of her neck, I can't stop the flood of thoughts.
Her laugh earlier, when she finally nailed that elbow strike—pure, unfiltered joy.
The way she trusts me, leaning into my guidance without question.
It's been years since anyone looked at me like that.
I'm supposed to be the stoic protector, the guy who keeps his head in a crisis.
Not the one fighting a hard-on because of a training session.
"Chase?" Her voice pulls me back. She's turned fully now, concern etching her features. "You okay? You look... intense."
Intense. That's polite. I rub the back of my neck, forcing a chuckle that sounds fake even to me. "Yeah, just replaying the moves in my head. Making sure I didn't miss anything."
She steps closer, closing the gap I just created. Damn it. "You're always so focused. It's one of the things I admire about you." Her hand reaches out, tentative, touching my arm. It's innocent, a gesture of gratitude, but it ignites something primal in me.
My gaze drops to her lips, full and slightly parted. The cabin feels smaller suddenly, the walls closing in. Outside, the wind howls through the trees, a reminder of how isolated we are. No distractions, no interruptions. Just us.
I should pull away. Tell her goodnight. Lock myself in my room and take a cold shower until this fire in my veins cools. She's vulnerable, scared, depending on me. Kissing her would be crossing a line, complicating everything. What if Gavin finds out? What if this distracts me from the real threat?
But her eyes are locked on mine now, searching, and I see the spark there too. The way her breath quickens, her fingers lingering on my skin. "Fiona," I murmur, my voice low, almost a warning.
She doesn't move back. If anything, she leans in a fraction. "What?"
The air between us crackles. I can smell her—sweat and sweetness—and it's intoxicating. My resolve crumbles like dry leaves underfoot. Screw the shouldn'ts. Screw the danger for one damn minute. I need this. I need her.
I lean in, closing the distance, my hand cupping her cheek. Her skin is soft, warmer than I imagined. She doesn't pull away; instead, her eyes flutter half-closed, lips parting in anticipation. That's all the permission I need.
Our lips meet, and it's like a dam breaking.
Soft at first, tentative, but then hunger takes over.
I kiss her deeper, my other hand sliding to her waist, pulling her against me.
She gasps into my mouth, her fingers tangling in my shirt, and I lose myself in the taste of her—salt from the sweat, a hint of the mint tea she drank earlier.
It's everything I've suppressed these past few days, pouring out in this one moment.
She responds with equal fervor, her body molding to mine.
I back her up against the wall, careful not to hurt her, but urgent.
My mind races: This is wrong. Stop. Think about Gavin.
But the thoughts drown in sensation—the curve of her hips under my palms, the way she arches into me, a soft moan escaping her.
I break the kiss for air, trailing my lips down her neck. "God, Fiona," I breathe against her skin. "I've wanted this..."
She tilts her head back, exposing more of her throat. "Me too," she whispers, her voice husky. "But... Chase, we can't—"
I pull back slightly, searching her face. Doubt flickers there, mirroring my own. "I know," I say, though my body screams otherwise. "Your safety comes first. But damn it, you drive me crazy."
Her hands slide up my chest, resting over my heart, which is pounding like a war drum. "It's just... with everything going on..."
I nod, forcing myself to step back, though it takes every ounce of willpower. My skin tingles where she touched me, and the ache hasn't faded—if anything, it's worse. "You're right. We stop here. For now."
But even as I say it, I know it's a lie. The kiss has changed everything. The cabin feels charged, the night stretching ahead with possibilities and risks. I glance out the window into the darkness, half-expecting to see Gavin's shadow lurking. Paranoia? Maybe. But it's kept me alive this long.
Fiona straightens her shirt, her cheeks even redder now. "Goodnight, Chase."
"Goodnight." I watch her disappear into the guest room, the door clicking shut softly.
Alone, I sink onto the couch, head in my hands.
What the hell was that? I replay the kiss in my mind, the softness of her lips, the heat of her body.
It's addictive, and that's the problem. Distractions get people killed.
I need to refocus—check the alarms, review the escape plan.
Her ex-boyfriend is out there, somewhere, and he's not the type to give up.
I grab my laptop from the coffee table, pulling up the security feed. The cameras show nothing but swaying trees and empty trails. Good. For now. But my thoughts keep drifting back to her, to the way she felt in my arms. I shouldn't have kissed her. Shouldn't have let it get this far.
Yet, part of me doesn't regret it. In this mess of danger and uncertainty, that kiss was a spark of something real.
Something worth fighting for. I close the laptop and lean back, staring at the ceiling.
Tomorrow, we'll train again. And I'll try to keep my hands—and my thoughts—to myself.
But deep down, I know it's a losing battle.
The clock ticks past midnight, and sleep evades me. I pace the living room, muscles still wired from the session and the kiss. The cabin is my fortress—reinforced doors, hidden weapons stash, even a panic room in the basement.
As soon as I decide to head to my room, Fiona’s door opens. She steps out, and I worry she’s had another bad dream.
“Can’t sleep?” I ask her.
She shakes her head slowly from side to side. “No.”
My heart pounds in my chest because I can’t stop the feeling I’ve got for her. I can’t stop the way I rush toward her and fold her into my arms. I crash my lips to hers, the hunger growing heavy in my heart.
“Fuck, baby. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”