Page 65

Chapter forty-five

One more time, in case you forgot

Zoe

T rouble still has a name, only now he’s mine.

And if he doesn’t kiss me in the next three seconds, I’m going to climb him like a goddamn jungle gym.

We’re both soaked, dripping puddles on his hardwood floors, hearts still racing from the storm and everything we admitted to each other under a curtain of rain.

Chase looks at me as though he’s starving but is waiting for me to give the green light.

“If you take off that hoodie in slow motion, I will sue for emotional distress,” I mutter.

His mouth twitches. “I am literally a victim of a break-in.”

“Oh, please. I should’ve stolen more than the coat. I should’ve looted this place.”

“You did,” he says, stepping closer. “You looted my heart.”

“You’re disgusting.” I tug at the hem of his hoodie. “Take off your pants.”

He grins, slow and lethal. “Tell me you want me.”

I narrow my eyes. “I want to be offended that you need me to say it.”

“Say it anyway.”

I take one step closer, chest to chest, letting my hands drag up and over his shoulders.

“I want you.”

There’s a beat where he just stares at me with that frat boy grin that I love so fucking much on his stupid, beautiful face.

“Less cocky now?” I murmur.

“No,” he says, dropping his forehead to mine. “Now I’m just hard.”

I laugh, loud and breathless, and it gets swallowed in the kiss that follows. His hands are on my waist, sliding under my shirt to touch me, and I pull the soaked fabric over my head, throwing it somewhere behind me.

Chase’s eyes drop to my chest, and I swear I see his entire soul leave his body.

I smirk, even as my skin prickles under his gaze. “Still cocky?”

“No. Now I’m just in fucking awe.”

His hands move slowly, trailing over the curve of my waist, up to my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples that are already tight from the chill. Then he leans down and takes one into his mouth, and suddenly, the cold is gone. All I feel is heat.

I gasp, arching into him. “Chase—”

He groans softly, tongue flicking my piercing. “God, I missed the way you say my name when I’ve got my mouth on you.”

He kisses a line down my chest, dropping to his knees in front of me.

“You gonna be good for me?” he asks, looking up at me from the floor, voice thick with heat.

I hum, smug. “Only if you beg.”

“Oh, baby,” he grins, hooking his fingers in my underwear and dragging them down slowly. “I don’t need to beg. I get results.”

And then his mouth is on me.

My gasp punches out of my chest, knees buckling as I grab for the dresser behind me. His tongue is filthy and precise, slow at first, then firmer and more demanding. He moans against me, the sound low and rumbling and so fucking hungry .

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he mutters. “I missed this. Missed you. ”

His grip tightens on my thighs, spreading me open wider as his tongue flicks and circles, again and again until my entire body tightens, everything pulling taut like a wire ready to snap.

“Chase—fuck—”

“I know,” he groans. “Come for me, baby. Right here on my tongue.”

I fist my hands in his hair, my knees wobbling as his tongue circles my clit, then flattens and presses hard. He’s relentless, alternating pressure and pace like he knows exactly what will ruin me.

I break, loud and sudden and breathless. My hands tangle in his hair, and I ride the wave as he keeps going, keeps licking me through it like he can’t get enough.

When he finally stands, his mouth glistening and eyes black with want, he drags the back of his hand across his mouth and stares at me.

“Still think I should take off my pants?” he rasps.

“If you do,” I pant, tugging him toward the bed, “I’m not responsible for what happens next.”

We stumble onto the mattress, soaked clothes hitting the floor with wet slaps. I crawl backward up the mattress, my body humming, hair clinging to my face and neck, and he follows, eyes locked on me like he’s never going to look away again.

“You’re dripping,” he says, voice husky, almost dazed.

I raise a brow, breathless and high. “You gonna fuck me or just stare at me like I’m your favorite meal?”

“I can multitask.” He crawls over me, kissing up my ankle to my calf, the inside of my thigh, taking his time like I’m something he gets to unwrap.

When he reaches my breast, he pauses and groans, his gaze dropping to the glint of metal.

“Still the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs, then he mouths over it, tongue flicking and teasing the barbell until my whole body arches off the bed.

“Fuck,” I gasp. “You’re obsessed.”

“Damn right I am.” His teeth graze the other side, sucking just hard enough to make me whimper.

“You’re very dramatic.”

“You’re very fucking perfect.”

He groans as his fingers slip between my legs, finding me soaked and ready.

“How do you want it, Zo?”

I grab his face, pull him down until our foreheads touch, breath mingling between us.

“I want you to fuck me like you love me.”

His breath shudders out of him, and he doesn’t smile, doesn’t even tease. Just gives me a look as though he thinks I hung the goddamn stars.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes. “That’s the only way I know how.”

And then he’s kissing me. Hard, then slow. So full of everything I didn’t realize I was aching for, and now that I’ve said it, he’ll never stop.

His hips slot between mine, his body hot and solid and steady. He lines himself up, mouth brushing my ear as he moves closer.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he breathes, voice thick and broken, “like I’ve been waiting my whole goddamn life for you to let me.”

He thrusts deep, and my back arches, a gasp torn from my chest.

“And this is how I’ll say it,” he pants, driving deeper. “I love you. I see you. I fucking choose you.”

Another thrust, harder this time, as if he’s trying to fuck the truth into my bones. My body clenches around him, and my head tips back.

“Chase—fuck—”

“I’ll spend every night proving it, every inch, every breath, until you never doubt it again.”

His rhythm turns punishingly slow, and it wrecks me. I’m shaking beneath him, eyes wet, body trembling from the inside out.

“So you never forget,” he whispers against my mouth, “you’re the best thing I’ve ever touched. And I’ll spend the rest of my life learning how to love you better.”

“Chase, I’m gonna—”

“I’ve got you, baby,” he groans, the words rough and desperate. “I've always fucking got you.”

His hand slides between us, thumb circling my clit while he keeps thrusting.

“I love you,” I gasp, the words tearing from me to break free.

He lets out a strangled sound, rhythm stuttering. One hand shoots out to grab the headboard, and he fucks me harder.

“Tell me, baby,” he husks. “Say it while I fuck you.”

“I love you,” I cry out.

His thrusts turn brutal and beautiful, hips slamming into mine with every word.

“I love your fucking mouth,” he rasps, voice shaking. “Love the way you gasp my name like it’s yours to say.”

Another thrust, deeper than the last.

“I love the way you come for me. Loud and needy and so goddamn sweet. ”

I whimper, nails raking down his back to grab his ass and pull him closer, my body tightening around him in the process.

“You were made for me,” he growls, burying his face in my neck. “This pussy was made for me, Zo.”

My head tips back, a cry tearing out of me.

“Come for me, baby, scream my name like you love me back.”

I break, shaking and screaming his name as pleasure crashes through me, white-hot and unstoppable. He makes a strangled noise, thrusting hard once, then twice more, before he spills inside me with a shuddering gasp.

We collapse into the sheets, tangled and trembling. My chest heaves as his arms tighten around me.

Cold rain taps at the windows, but my skin feels flushed and alive. And for once, everything is quiet. Chase tucks his face into my neck and breathes me in. My skin tickles as I feel his lips moving into a smile against my skin.

“Say it again.”

I smile lazily. “I love you.”

He hums, dotting kisses up the column of my throat to my pulse point.

“One more time, just in case you forgot.”

I roll on top of him with a grin, straddling his hips. “I love you.”

His hands slide up my thighs, gripping my hips.

“You better.”

I trail my fingers down his chest, dancing over the carnation tattoo on the side of his ribs. He watches me quietly, waiting.

“You really inked me into your skin,” I whisper, half in awe, half in disbelief.

His hand closes over mine.

“Didn’t know where else to put you,” he murmurs. “You’ve always been there.”

I lean down and kiss him slowly, deeply, completely gone for him.

He was trouble. A menace.

Chaos and charm and a thousand bad decisions.

Laughter and lightning and everything I’m not supposed to want.

Now he’s mine.