Page 37 of Check & Chase (Breakaway #1)

Emma

Chapter Twenty-Two

“ I ’m going to marry you one day, Emma Anderson.”

Chase’s words keep replaying in my head as I lie perfectly still, pretending to sleep while my heart hammers against my ribs.

His breathing has evened out now, slow and steady beneath my ear where my head rests on his chest. The decorative fireplace sits cold and useless across from us, while the storm continues its relentless howling outside.

Marriage.

I should be terrified. Running for the hills, figuratively if not literally given the three feet of snow currently blocking the door. After Tyler, I was adamantly opposed to dating hockey players ever again. Then Chase and I decided to fake a relationship for mutual convenience.

Now he’s talking about forever, and the strangest part is that it doesn’t send me into a panic. Instead, there’s a warmth spreading through my chest that has nothing to do with our shared blankets.

I fall asleep to the sound of Chase’s heartbeat, steady and reassuring as a lullaby.

When I wake, winter sunlight filters through frost-covered windows, creating intricate crystal patterns that sparkle like diamonds.

The storm has passed, leaving behind a world transformed.

Snow is piled so high it reaches halfway up the glass, turning the familiar view into something from a fairy tale.

Chase still sleeps soundly beside me, his injured leg propped on pillows, one arm curled possessively around my waist. In the light, I study his face—the stubble darkening his jaw, the healing cut near his temple, the fan of dark lashes against his cheeks.

Even bruised and sleeping, he’s unfairly beautiful, like something carved from marble by an artist who understood perfection.

My phone vibrates from somewhere in the pile of blankets.

I extract myself carefully from Chase’s hold, the movement causing him to stir but not wake.

The message is from the power company: restoration efforts underway, but many areas will remain without electricity for at least another twenty-four hours.

The house is frigid away from our blanket nest. My breath creates small clouds in the air as I pad to the window, wrapping my arms around myself for warmth.

The world outside looks postcard-perfect—pristine white stretching as far as I can see, broken only by the skeletal branches of trees heavy with snow.

“Morning.” Chase’s sleep-rough voice startles me. I turn to find him watching me through half-lidded eyes, hair adorably mussed, looking rumpled and sexy in ways that should be illegal. “How long have you been awake for?”

“Just a few minutes.” I return to our nest of blankets, grateful for the immediate warmth. “Power’s still out.”

“Mmm,” he acknowledges, pulling me closer until I’m flush against his side. His body heat seeps through the thin fabric of his borrowed hoodie, chasing away the morning chill. “Roads probably still closed too. Looks like you’re stuck with me another day.”

“However will I survive?”

“I can think of a few ways to pass the time.” His hand slips under the hem of the hoodie I’m wearing, warm fingers tracing lazy patterns on my lower back that make me shiver for entirely different reasons .

“Chase,” I warn, though the touch sends pleasant heat spiraling through me. “You’re still recovering.”

“Brain’s feeling great this morning,” he murmurs, lips finding the spot just below my ear that makes me melt. His breath is warm against my skin, carrying the masculine scent that’s become as familiar as home. “No headache, no dizziness.”

“Your knee…”

“Can stay elevated right where it is.” His teeth graze my earlobe, sending electricity down my spine. “I don’t need to move to make you feel good, Blondie.”

The nickname combined with his touch breaks down my medical resolve. I should maintain some semblance of responsibility, but Chase’s lips are trailing down my neck, pressing kisses to the sensitive skin that pulse in time with my heartbeat.

“Fine,” I concede, earning a triumphant chuckle against my collarbone. “But you stay put. I’ll be in charge.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His dimple appears, boyish and charming despite the heat in his eyes. “I do love it when you get all bossy.”

“Shut up,” I mutter, straddling his hips carefully to avoid his injured knee.

“Make me.”

So I do, capturing his mouth in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly turns desperate, needy.

Chase groans into my mouth, his hands settling on my hips, guiding me against the hardness already evident beneath his sweatpants.

The friction sends heat pooling low in my belly, making me arch against him instinctively.

We’ve been here before—stolen moments between recovery milestones, always with limits, always stopping short of what we both want. This morning feels different. The storm, the confession I wasn’t meant to hear, his healing—it all makes normal rules seem meaningless.

“I want you,” he groans against my lips, his voice rough with desire. “Right here, right now. ”

“Then don’t wait,” I counter, rocking my hips against him in a motion that makes him hiss through his teeth.

His eyes go dark, pupils dilating until only a thin ring of blue remains. His grip on my hips tightens, pulling me flush against him. “You have no idea what you do to me, Emma.”

Heat shoots through me at the raw honesty in his voice. “Good thing I’m not going anywhere then.”

“Damn right you’re not,” he growls, his hands sliding up my sides with reverent touch. “Off,” he demands, tugging at the hem of my hoodie. “I need to see you.”

I pull it over my head, revealing the fact that I’m wearing nothing underneath. The cool air makes me shiver, but Chase’s sharp intake of breath is worth the momentary discomfort.

“Christ,” he breathes, eyes moving over my skin like a physical caress. “You’re fucking perfect.”

He pulls me down, his mouth latching onto my nipple while his hand works the other one.

Pleasure shoots straight to my core, sharp and sweet, making me gasp and arch into him.

His tongue swirls around the hardened peak, alternating between gentle flicks and firm pressure that has me writhing against him.

“Chase,” I moan, fingers tangling in his dark hair. The strands are silk-soft between my fingers, and I use my grip to guide him exactly where I need him.

“I know,” he murmurs against my breast, the vibration adding another layer to the sensations flooding my system. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

I grind against him in response, feeling his hardness through the layers of fabric that suddenly seem like far too much barrier between us.

“Pants off,” he commands, hands sliding to my leggings with purpose.

I hesitate, suddenly self-conscious despite everything we’ve already shared. He catches it immediately, hands stilling, concern replacing the heat in his eyes .

“We don’t have to, Emma,” he assures me, voice gentle despite the strain of holding back. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

His sincerity breaks down the last of my walls. This is Chase, who protected my brother without hesitation, who listens when I talk about my father, who whispered about marriage when he thought I couldn’t hear. I trust him completely, with my body and my heart.

“I want to,” I tell him, sealing the words with a quick, fierce kiss. “Just… I’m nervous.”

“I’ve got you,” he promises, and I believe him completely. “If you want to stop at any point, we’ll stop.”

He helps me out of my leggings with gentle efficiency, leaving me in just white cotton underwear. Chase doesn’t seem to mind—his eyes are full of appreciation, desire, and something deeper that makes my chest tight with emotion.

“Now who’s overdressed?” I tug at his shirt, eager to see more of him.

“Help me?” he asks, gesturing to his elevated position and injured knee.

We manage to get his shirt off without aggravating his injuries, exposing the broad expanse of his chest. The bruising has faded to yellows and greens, no longer the angry purples they were weeks ago. I trace one with gentle fingers, marveling at how much healing can happen in such a short time.

“Does it still hurt?”

“The only thing hurting right now,” he confesses, voice rough with want, “is how badly I need you.”

His bluntness breaks down the last of my hesitation. I kiss him harder, tongue tangling with his.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispers against my lips, guiding my hips up with gentle pressure. “Come up here, baby.”

I realize what he wants and flush hot, heat spreading from my cheeks down my neck. “Chase, I can’t…”

“You can,” he encourages, hands steady and reassuring on my thighs. “Trust me. Let me make you feel good. ”

I follow his guidance until I’m hovering above his face, feeling exposed but excited, vulnerability and desire warring in my chest.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, hands gripping my thighs with reverent touch. “So fucking beautiful.”

He urges me down, his mouth finding me through my underwear. Even through the fabric, the touch sends pleasure racing up my spine like lightning. I gasp, hands flying to his hair for balance.

“These need to go,” Chase murmurs against the damp cotton, tugging at the waistband. I help him remove them with shaking hands, then move back into position, my heart hammering against my chest.

The first touch of his tongue against my pussy nearly buckles my knees. I gasp, but Chase steadies me, pulling me down onto his mouth like he’s starving for the taste of me.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, the vibration making me shudder and moan. “You taste so fucking good. Let go for me.”

I do, letting myself fall apart as his mouth works magic between my legs. His tongue is clever and insistent, finding every spot that makes me cry out. My fingers dig into his hair as sounds tear from my throat—wordless pleas and his name repeated like a prayer.

When he slides his tongue inside me, curling it just right, I explode. The climax crashes over me in waves, my body shaking against his mouth as I cry out his name.