Page 38 of Check & Chase (Breakaway #1)
He doesn’t stop until I’m whimpering, too sensitive to take any more. Only then does he press gentle kisses to my inner thighs while I try to remember how to breathe.
I collapse beside him on shaking legs, aftershocks of pleasure coursing through me. “Holy shit,” I manage when I can finally form words.
He grins, mouth glistening, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“Show-off,” I mutter, but there’s no heat in it.
“Not showing off,” he says, pulling me close. “Just fucking obsessed with you.”
“I can tell,” I whisper, feeling his hardness pressing insistently against my hip. I slide my hand down to palm him through his sweatpants, enjoying the way his breath hitches. “Your turn. Unless you’re too sore? That was a lot when you’re meant to be resting.”
His growl vibrates through my whole body, deep and primal. “My knee could be fucking broken, Blondie. If you’re touching me like that, I wouldn’t care.”
I slide his sweatpants and boxers down together, freeing him completely. He’s gorgeous—thick and hard, the head glistening with evidence of his arousal. My mouth waters at the sight.
I lean in, my tongue flicking out to taste the salt-sweet drop at his tip.
Chase lets out a broken moan, the sound torn from somewhere deep in his chest. “Jesus fucking Christ, Emma… what are you doing to me?”
I wrap my hand around his base, stroking slowly while my tongue explores. “Tell me what you like,” I whisper against his heated flesh.
His hand covers mine, guiding me to the rhythm he needs. “Just like that, baby. Anything you do… fuck , it’s so good.”
I take him into my mouth, tongue swirling around the head before sucking him deeper. The taste of him floods my senses—masculine and clean and uniquely Chase. My hand works what I can’t fit, while my other hand explores lower, teasing and caressing until he’s trembling beneath me.
“Emma,” he groans, hand fisting loosely in my hair—guiding but not forcing. “I’m gonna… you don’t have to…”
I tighten my lips around him in response, sucking harder, tongue working against the sensitive underside. His warning dissolves into a shout of my name as he comes, spilling into my mouth with a intensity that makes him shake.
I keep going until he’s completely undone, then slowly pull back, pressing a gentle kiss to his hip bone.
He looks wrecked—head thrown back against the pillows, chest heaving, eyes closed in blissful exhaustion. When he finally opens them to look at me, the expression on his face steals my breath.
“Come here,” he manages, tugging me up his body with gentle insistence.
I crawl over him, careful of his injuries, and he cups my face in both hands, pulling me into a deep, thorough kiss that tastes of both of us.
When we part, Chase looks at me with such adoration it makes my chest tight. “You’re incredible. A fucking goddess.”
“You’re just saying that because I gave you an orgasm,” I deflect, suddenly shy.
“I’m saying it because it’s true,” he insists, thumb tracing the line of my jaw with infinite tenderness. “I’ve known it since the first time I saw you.”
I hide my face against his chest, overwhelmed by emotions I’m not ready to process. Chase allows it, one hand stroking my hair while the other holds me securely against him. His heartbeat is strong and steady beneath my ear, gradually slowing as his breathing returns to normal.
The morning stretches lazily before us. With the power still out and the world buried under snow, time seems suspended. We eventually migrate to the kitchen when hunger demands attention, Chase insisting on making eggs despite my protests about his knee.
“Gas stove still works,” he points out, moving carefully but efficiently around the space. “And I can cook sitting down if it makes you feel better.”
I pull his discarded t-shirt over my head, the fabric soft and carrying his scent like a comfort blanket. We eat breakfast, discussing what we can accomplish without electricity, but mostly just enjoying each other’s company.
The intimacy feels different now—deeper, more settled. Like we’ve crossed some invisible threshold that can’t be uncrossed.
“We should probably check the driveway situation,” Chase suggests eventually. “See if we can at least clear a path in case of an emergency.”
I eye his knee with obvious concern. “You’re not shoveling anything.”
“There’s a service,” he explains patiently. “I can call them if cell service is working. ”
We bundle up in layers of clothing, the cold hitting us when we step outside. But the sun shines brilliantly off the snow, creating a winter wonderland that’s undeniably beautiful despite the inconvenience.
“Damn,” Chase whistles, surveying his property. “That’s easily three feet.”
The driveway has disappeared entirely, along with most of the street. Only the distant rumble of snowplows reminds us that civilization still exists.
“Think that service of yours can handle this?” I ask doubtfully.
“For what I pay them, they better.” Chase pulls out his phone, checking for signal bars. “Should be enough.”
He’s in the middle of making the call when my phone buzzes with several missed messages. My stomach drops as I read Jackson’s increasingly urgent texts.
Jackson: Mom fell. Nothing serious, but she’s asking for you. Call when you can.
“Chase,” I interrupt his conversation, panic creeping into my voice. “We need to go. My mom fell.”
He ends the call immediately, concern replacing his relaxed expression. “Is she okay?”
“Jackson says it’s not serious, but she’s asking for me.” I’m already heading back inside, mind racing through logistics and worst-case scenarios. “We need to get to Calgary. That’s a four hour drive in good weather.”
“Whoa,” Chase follows as quickly as his crutch allows. “Slow down, Emma. Let’s think this through.”
“There’s nothing to think about,” I snap, irrationally angry at his calm response. “That’s my mom.”
“I know.” He catches my arm gently, forcing me to stop and look at him. “And we’ll get to her. But safely. Let me call the service back and have them prioritize clearing us out.”
The logic penetrates my panic. I take a deep breath, nodding as reason reasserts itself. “Okay, yeah. That makes sense. ”
Chase makes the call, emphasizing the emergency nature of our situation. “They’ll be here within the hour,” he reports. “Said they’re already in the neighborhood.”
“Thank you.” I’m already gathering essentials, adrenaline taking over. “I’ll text you when I get there.”
“I’m coming with you.”
I pause in my frantic packing, turning to stare at him. “Your knee, your concussion…”
“Are both manageable enough for a car ride,” he finishes firmly, his jaw set in a way I recognize. “I’m not letting you drive alone in these conditions. Not when you’re this upset.”
“I’m not upset,” I protest automatically.
He just looks at me, one eyebrow raised. “Your hands are shaking.”
I glance down to find he’s right. My fingers tremble slightly as they grip my overnight bag, betraying the anxiety I’m trying to control.
“Fine. But I’m driving. Your reaction time isn’t fully back yet.”
“Deal.”
The wait for the plow service feels interminable, though the clock shows it’s less than forty-five minutes. I use the time to call Jackson, confirming that our mother is stable—just a twisted ankle from a minor fall down her porch steps while checking the mail in the aftermath of their own storm.
“She’s fine, Em. Just wants to see you. Being dramatic, you know how she gets.”
“I know.” But the reassurance doesn’t fully stop the anxiety that’s gripped me since seeing his messages. In my mind, winter storms and family emergencies are permanently linked, echoes of a tragedy I was too young to remember but old enough to live with the consequences of.
The plow makes quick work of the driveway, and soon Chase’s SUV is accessible. We load up efficiently, me behind the wheel as agreed, Chase settling into the passenger seat with visible relief to be off his injured leg.
“Wait,” he says as I start the engine. “I need to take Max next door. Can’t leave him alone without heat. ”
“Right, of course.” I turn off the engine, realizing I should have thought of that myself. My brain feels scattered, jumping between practical concerns and worst-case scenarios.
I watch through the windshield as Chase disappears inside, then reemerges with Max cradled in his arms like a furry baby. The sight would be amusing under different circumstances—this tough hockey player being so gentle with his spoiled cat.
He makes his way carefully through the snow to the neighbors’ house, and I see their front door open before he even reaches it. A brief conversation, then the neighbor gently takes Max from his arms, and then Chase is making his way back to the car, moving carefully on the slippery driveway.
“All set,” he announces, sliding into the passenger seat with only a slight wince. “You ready to hit the road?”
I nod, my throat too tight for words, and guide the SUV onto the slowly clearing street.