Page 43

Zoe’s face fills my phone screen, lit only by a bedside lamp. Her eyes are sleep-heavy, and the second I see her, the pressure in my chest loosens just a little.

“Did you seriously just video call me at”—she squints—“two a.m.?”

I sit up straighter and blink hard. “You’re in my bed.”

She exhales, dropping her head back to the pillow. Her hair’s a total mess, the collar of my T-shirt is stretched wide over her shoulder, and the sheets are bunched around her.

“It smells like you,” she mutters, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

I swear to God something in my chest fucking shatters, but I swallow hard. Try to play it cool.

“Yeah? My scent turning you on a little, sweetheart?”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t deny it. “How’s the jaw?”

“Fine. How’s your attitude?”

“Still better than yours.”

God, I love your mouth.

I settle deeper into the pillows, letting the moment stretch as I watch her. That earns me a soft smile. “You miss me, Walton?”

“Every fucking second.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she mumbles, already drifting again. But then she cracks one eye, scanning me properly this time. “You okay?”

“No,” I admit. “Nightmare. Couldn’t stop thinking.”

She shifts slightly, propping herself up on one elbow. “Did you try the woo-woo exercises?”

“Tried. Got to the part where I’m supposed to name one thing I can taste.” I pause and let it hang in the air. “You. Spread out under me. Making those sounds you only make when I—”

“Chase.” She groans into the pillow. “That’s not how it works.”

“Didn’t say I was following the rules.”

She pushes up a bit more, tucking one arm under her head. Her voice is low now, teasing and soft. “So what do you want, hotshot? You calling me for therapy or a bedtime story?”

“Neither.”

My voice is rough, and I don’t even try to hide it.

“I just wanted to hear your voice. You—” I swallow. “You always quiet it down.”

She blinks slowly, and something shifts in her eyes. “You get needy when you’re tired.”

“You get mouthy when you’re in my shirt.”

“Not your shirt,” she murmurs, dragging the collar a little lower. “It’s mine now. Like your bed. And your condo. And your hoodie.”

“Zoe.”

That’s all I can say, because if I say anything else, I’m gonna ask her to fly out here and climb into bed next to me and never leave.

Instead, I let my eyes roam her body. She shifts slightly, the sheet dipping lower.

“You been touching yourself?”

Her breath catches. “No.”

“Why not?”

She eyes me lazily, lips quirking. “Why? You wanna watch?”

“Fuck yes.”

She sighs dramatically, like I’m putting her out, but then reaches beneath the sheet and pulls out a vibrator. It’s long, pink, and absolutely obscene.

I blink. “That’s in my bed right now?”

She flips it in her hand and smirks. “Meet Dolce & Vibrato.”

“…You named it.”

“Of course I did.”

“What happened to like… Gerald?”

She hums, trailing it down her thigh. “Gerald didn’t come with three vibration settings and a travel case.”

I raise a brow. “So you named your dildo after a luxury fashion house?”

“What can I say? I’m classy.”

“Jesus, Zo. What, Versace Crescendo was taken?”

She snorts. “Please. That bitch’s motor died six months ago.”

There’s a beat where I can’t tell if she’s being serious or not.

“Long live Dolce, then.”

“Don’t act so surprised,” she says, adjusting the camera as she leans back. “I had to use it earlier after your fight on the ice. But now…”

She clicks it on low, and I watch as she flips the view. She’s on her back, blanket pushed down, and legs tangled in my sheets, pulling those black lace panties down that I’ve dragged off her with my teeth before. My cock twitches.

“…I guess I’ll let you talk me through it.”

I groan. “You’re gonna kill me.”

She moans lightly as the toy brushes against her clit, and I almost lose it on the spot.

“Say my name,” I rasp.

“Chase.”

She doesn’t even hesitate, just says it on a breath as her hips lift gently, eyes on me through the screen.

My fist clenches around the phone. My other hand grips my cock through my boxers, desperate for friction.

“You said it like that the other night,” I mutter. “You were dripping and riding my cock and saying my name like it was your fucking religion.”

“Mmm. Don’t remind me,” she gasps. “I can still feel you.”

“Jesus, sweetheart. Lemme see.”

She doesn’t break eye contact, just hikes her shirt higher, spreads her legs wider, and slowly inserts the toy.

“Fuck, Zo… you’re so wet for me, I can see it.”

She hums, playing coy even as her hips start rocking. “Must be the sound of your voice. Or maybe it’s the way you fight like an animal and then smile for the cameras like a good boy.”

My fist is around my cock now, and it’s not gonna take long. Not with her doing this, not with her saying things like that.

“Faster,” I rasp. “You know how I like it.”

Her lips quirk. “You gonna beg?”

“Shit.” My hand moves faster over my cock, and I let my head tip back for a second before finding her face again on the screen. “You want me to beg, Zo? Want me to fucking plead for your pussy while you fall apart for me?”

“Yes.” She gasps as the toy hits just right. “I want you desperate.”

“I am.” My voice cracks with it. “I’ve been desperate since the moment you walked out of my hotel room in that fucking dress the morning after the wedding. You think I haven’t been thinking about that night every single goddamn time I touch myself?”

“Chase—”

“Yeah,” I growl, pumping harder now. “Say it again.”

Her eyes lock on the screen, and her hips stutter.

“Chase.”

“Fuck, that’s it. You riding that toy like it’s me?”

She whimpers. “Wanna ride you.”

“Soon,” I promise. “But right now, you’re gonna come for me. Gonna make those pretty thighs shake and let me hear what it sounds like when you fall apart saying my name.”

The moan she lets out isn’t pretty, it’s wrecked and raw and fucking perfect.

“I’m close,” she gasps. “Fuck, I’m—Chase—”

“Let go, baby,” I groan, stroking harder. “Be my good fucking girl and come for me.”

Her whole body tenses, her back arches, and her lips fall open as she crashes over the edge.

It undoes me, and I come with a strangled sound, hips jerking as I spill over my hand, eyes locked on her face through the screen.

We’re both breathing so hard that neither of us speaks, but she finally shifts the camera a little and tugs the sheet back up with a boneless groan.

“God,” she murmurs, blowing a stray hair off her face. “You’re so fucking much.”

I grin, still wrecked. “You love it.”

She’s quiet for a beat, then murmurs barely audibly, “Wish you were here.”

I grin, and she must realize what she’s said, because her eyes widen slightly, like she’s just betrayed herself. I should let it go. I should not make it a thing, but I’m already leaning forward, voice low. “Say it again.”

“Chase—”

“Say it, Zo.”

Her gaze flickers. “I… I miss you. That’s all.”

It’s not all. It’s everything .

“Wish I could hold you,” I say. “That part after… the quiet? It’s my favorite.”

She doesn’t answer right away, just stares at me through the screen, lying on her side, hair a mess, and expression unreadable.

“You’re dangerously good at that,” she whispers.

“At what?”

“Making me forget why I’m supposed to keep my distance.”

My throat goes dry. “Stop trying.”

Her lips twitch like she’s trying not to smile. “Yes, sir .”

I groan. “Don’t start with that unless you want me on a plane tonight .”

There’s a pause, and her smile fades just slightly. I can feel the shift through the screen. That stretch of quiet where we’re both too aware of how far apart we are. How much we want to be together.

Then she says it again, softer this time. Realer.

“I do wish you were here, though.”

I nod, voice rough. “Yeah. Me too.”

We just sit there for a second, looking at each other across the distance, my hotel room dim and cold, her warm in my bed back home, still glowing from the aftershocks.

I want to say it. God, it’s right there. Three fucking words.

But before I can open my mouth, she clears her throat. “Anyway, I should probably get some sleep if I’m gonna keep carrying your sizeable reputation.”

I almost laugh, but it catches in my chest.

“Zoe.”

She looks up again, and I hesitate, then say it the only way I know how.

“You’re my favorite part of every day. Even the shitty ones… especially those ones.”

She blinks, and her voice comes out a little unsteady. “You’re not supposed to say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because if you do, I might start to believe them.”

I lean in, eyes locked on hers. “I want you to.”

Zoe presses her lips together. Her voice, when it comes, is soft.

“Night, Walton.”

I don’t fight it because I know she knows it.

“Goodnight, baby.”

She hangs up, and I stare at the dark screen, the imprint of her still glowing behind my eyelids.