Page 35 of Someone to Hold

But Lord have mercy—he’s still naked.

And flying half-mast.

I’ve seen penises before and wasn’t a virgin on my wedding night. I’d had sloppy, unsatisfying sex three times with a guy in my hometown. Then there was Teddy. Plus the self-care supplies in my nightstand. But nothing holds a candle to what Chase Calhoun has going on.

Not. Even. A. Flicker.

“You aren’t supposed to be home,” he barks.

“You aren’t supposed to be running around my house naked,” I shout back.

“I was wearing a towel.”

“You aren’t wearing a towel now.”

“I was coming down to get my clothes. I accidentally left my bag by the front door.”

I look down, realize that’s what I tripped over, and shove it toward him. “Put something on. Please.”

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” he repeats as he holds the duffel bag up to cover the family jewels.

“You need to leave.” This earns a round of boos from my lady parts.

For another impossibly long moment, I’ve got a naked, wet, handsome-as-sin man who smells like fresh soap looming over me. Then he grabs the bag and heads out the front door, still naked as the day he was born. I should feel relieved. Instead, I’m left staring at the ceiling, my skin buzzing with electricity, wondering what might have happened if I’d asked him to stay.

12

CHASE

The knock comesat my trailer door an hour later.

“Here we go,” I tell my seventeen-year-old cat Princess—a grumpy, orange, former barn cat with the most impressive resting bitch face you’ve ever seen—as I move to open the door.

This is where Molly kicks me out, and Linda subsequently cancels our deal. Not that I’m feeling particularly excited about the deal anymore. I still haven’t figured out how to get what I want without keeping my best friend’s widow from getting what she wants. Hell, when did I become so invested in Molly’s dreams anyway? I should be focused on securing my own damn future, not worrying about hers.

She’s standing there with her red hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, balancing on her crutches, her cheeks still flushed pink from the effort of making it across the yard. The sight of her struggling just to get to my door makes something twist uncomfortably in my chest.

“I’ll be off the property today,” I tell her.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” she says, ignoring my words.

“Why are you apologizing?” I ask. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Neither did you. I told you to use the shower, and I got home earlier than I said, so...”

“I gave you an eyeful.”

The look she gives me makes me think that could be the understatement of the year. Her gaze goes kind of dreamy, and the idea that thinking about my dick causes the reaction makes it twitch in my pants.

Not now, I command internally. I mean, it was bad enough that just the sight of her eyes on me sent the blood rushing south.

“Come in for a minute,” I say, stepping back.

“You don’t need to invite me?—”

“I know I don’t. But we need to talk.”

“Talk,” she repeats, like it’s code for something else.