Maybe I should go.
Her longing was so strong, and she wasn’t quite confident in her willpower.
She took a final sip of her wine and stopped a uniformed waiter to set the goblet on his tray with a smile of thanks. Tucking her gold metallic clutch under her arm, she turned and walked right into a solid chest. “Sorry,” she said as a pair of hands gripped her upper arms to steady her.
Warm masculine hands.
She inhaled the scent of cologne.
Both were all too familiar.
Chance.
She knew it before she tilted her head back and looked up into his handsome face.
* * *
Chance couldn’t remember Ngozi ever looking so beautiful to him. She was stunning in the winter-white jumpsuit she wore with her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. The contrast against her skin was amazing.
He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her.
Nor could she him.
Finally, he had to close the distance between them.
Now he hesitated to take his hands off her.
And he knew in his gut if he pulled her into a dark secluded corner and pressed his lips to that delicate dip above her collarbone—her spot—that she would not resist him. Once again, she would be his. But for how long? A few stolen moments? One night?
“We can’t avoid each other,” Chance said, finally dropping his hands from her arms as his heart beat wildly.
“We spoke,” she said, taking a step back from him as she smoothed her hand over her head and dragged it down her waist-length ponytail.
Chance nodded. “We did.”
They fell silent.
“I thought this wasn’t your type of thing?” Ngozi said.
“Art?” Chance asked.
“No, charity,” she said with a sly lift of her brows and a “so there” look.
Chance frowned. “Still throwing jabs, huh?”
“Yes, that was childish, Chance. My bad,” she admitted.
“As a matter of fact, I am sponsoring this event,” Chance said, trying his best not to sound smug or give her the same “so there” look.
She looked perplexed. “Did the Ansahs know about that?”
He nodded. “Yes. I wish they could be here. Alek helped me arrange the connection.”
“Well, they claimed they couldn’t make it so I was pressed to use their ticket...with no mention of your involvement, of course.”
Chance rocked on his heels and looked up at the well-lit ceiling as he chuckled. “Scheming, huh?” he asked, looking back at her.
Their eyes locked before she looked away with a bite of her bottom lip that stirred naughty thoughts in him.
“It seems so,” Ngozi said, her nervousness clear.
“You were right,” he said.
“About?”
“Me needing to do more. Care more. Focus more on what’s right,” he admitted, his eyes searching her face for a sign that she understood this shift in his thinking was due to her.
She looked surprised. “You did this for me?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, I didn’t know you were coming, remember, but I took your advice, Ngozi, and it feels good to give back more, Mrs. Pro Bono.”
Her shoulders slumped a bit as she looked up at him in wonder.
Chance balled his hands into fists behind his back to beat off the temptation to stroke her face. “What’s that look about, Ngozi?” he asked.
Tears filled her eyes, and his gut felt wrenched. She tried valiantly to blink them away before turning to quickly stride away.
He fell in step with her and placed an arm around her shoulder to guide her into an office. “Ngozi,” he said softly, wanting her to open up to him.
She shook her head. “I feel silly, but... I appreciate your taking my advice and listening to me even though I voiced it out of anger. Outside of my career, what I care about, what I think...what I feel,” she stressed, letting the rest of her words fade as she pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes.
Chance could no longer resist, stepping close to pull her into his embrace. When she allowed him to do so and rested her forehead against his chest as she released a long breath before her body relaxed, he enjoyed being someone she could rely on for comfort and support.
“You just don’t know, Chance,” she admitted softly.
He set his chin on her head lightly. “Tell me. You can talk to me about anything, Ngozi. I promise you that,” he swore, surprised by the truth of his own words.
He wanted so badly, in that moment, to inquire if her husband had been that for her. Her protector. Her warrior. Her shoulder to lean on.
But he did not.
“Chance Castillo, I don’t know what to do with you,” she professed.
The same struggle he felt between what he wanted and what he needed was there in her voice. “Help me become a better man.”
She looked up at him. “And what will you do with me?” she asked, her hands snaking around his waist to settle on his back.
“Help you color out of the lines a little bit more.”
She smiled. “And somewhere in the middle—”
“We have amazing sex.”
“Chance,” she chided softly.
“Ngozi,” he volleyed back.
She chuckled.
He looked down at her, studied her, enjoyed the beauty of her. She is not Helena.
The truth was Ngozi Johns was not the type of woman built for frivolity. She was “it”—fun, brilliant, sexy, loyal, reliable, empathetic...
He could go on and on.
But what if I’m wrong?
“Let’s stop fighting this, Ngozi,” he implored, touching his index finger to the base of her chin to lift her head high as he bent his legs to lower himself and touch his lips down upon hers.
Her answer, he was pleased to note, was to tightly grip his shirt in her hands as she kissed him back with the passion he had craved and missed.
Chapter 7
Ngozi was exhausted.
From the moment they left the art gallery together, she and Chance hadn’t been able to keep their hands—or anything else—off each other.
In the office at the gallery.
In the car.
Against the wall of the living room.
On the bench of his nine-foot Steinway grand piano in the music room.
In the shower.
And the bed...where he held her nude body closely as he united them with deep intense strokes and whispered to her how much he missed her until they climaxed and cried out in sweet release together.
And she was spent as she straddled Chance’s strong thighs as he sat in the middle of his bed with his back pressed against the headboard. Her sigh was inevitable when he gripped her thighs to massage them. She rested her hands on his shoulders, gently kneading the muscles there.
“We’re really doing this?” Ngozi asked, pressing kisses to his brow as he lowered his head to her chest.
“I don’t think we can resist,” Chance said, turning his face from one side to the other to plant a warm kiss to each curve of her breasts.
She eased her hands from his shoulders and up his neck to grip his face to tilt upward until he was looking at her. The room was dimly lit by a corner lamp across the room, but the light of the moon and the brightness of the white snow reflected a light in his eyes that she felt herself getting lost in. He met her stare and she lost her breath, feeling something tugging at her heart and claiming a piece of her soul.
She kissed him lightly. “Chance,” she whispered, her eyes searching his as she felt a lightness in her chest.
Bzzzzzz.
They both looked to his iPhone vibrating on his bedside table.
Ngozi was thankful for the intrusio
n. She had started to feel spellbound.
Chance held one of her butt cheeks with one hand and reached for his phone with the other.
She felt his body stiffen. “What’s wrong?”
“The attorney notified me that Helena has been officially served her summons,” Chance said, his voice hard as he turned the phone to show her.
Ngozi winced. Helena.
She moved to rise up off him, but he wrapped his arm around her waist and held her closer. “Don’t answer that, Chance,” she advised, putting on her attorney hat.
She visualized the blonde Cuban with whom he’d been ready to share his life. Ngozi, educated woman and accomplished attorney, had looked up the woman’s Instagram account weeks ago. She was gorgeous. J-Lo level.
“Helena,” he said, his tone chilly enough to make her wish for a sweater.
“You have got to be kidding me, Chance. Are you serious? Suing me?” she railed.
He had her on speaker.
Ngozi successfully freed herself from his hold and rose from the bed, not interested in eavesdropping on their conversation.
“Racking up a million dollars’ worth of bills for a wedding while screwing another man? Are you serious?” he countered, his anger and annoyance clear.
Ngozi paused in the entrance to his bathroom and looked back at him over his shoulder. Something in him needed this moment with Helena.
She squinted as he began to slash his hands across the air as he rose from the bed and paced, and they began arguing heatedly in Spanish.
Her entire body went warm and she leaned against the frame of the doorway as she accepted what she was feeling. Jealousy. Pure and simple.
And she knew that when she looked in his eyes and saw the moonlight in the brown depths, that the emotion that took her breath was the same one that made her warm with envy.
Her heart pounded so loudly it felt like it thudded in her ears.
Ngozi gripped the door frame tightly and released a long, shaky breath as the truth of her feelings settled in...and scared her.
I love him. I love Chance.
“Go to hell!” Helena screamed.
Ngozi refocused her attention on them.
“I will see you there,” Chance returned coldly, holding the phone close to his mouth.
Ngozi stiffened her back and pushed off the door frame to walk across his expansive bedroom and calmly slip the phone out of his hand to end the call. She turned and tossed it onto the middle of his bed. “It is hurtful to your case to argue with Ms. Guzman,” she said, turning away from him so he couldn’t see how hurtful it was to her, as well.
How did I let this happen?
“You’re right,” he said.
She glanced at him as she gathered her clothing, taking note with a critical eye that he stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows with his hands on his hips as he looked out at his backyard. His back was to her, but in his reflection in the glass, she took in both his nudity and the pensive look on his face.
He looked lost in thought.
She was tempted to dress and walk out, leaving him lost.
Instead, she set her clothes down on the edge of the bed and walked over to him to press her body against his back and wrap her arms around him as she pressed a kiss to his spine.
Chance brought one hand up to cover hers as he looked down at her over his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re back,” he said.
Ngozi eased her body around his to stand before him with her bare bottom, her upper back and head against the chilly glass as she looked up at him. “You sure?” she asked, reaching up to stroke his low-cut beard.
Chance cupped her face with his hands, tilting her face up as he bent his head to kiss her. “Honestly?” he asked, as his eyes searched hers just as hers had searched his earlier.
She wondered if he felt the same breathlessness that she had in that moment. “Always,” she finally answered, her voice whisper soft.
“I wasn’t looking for anything serious and...and I’m not sure I’m ready,” Chance admitted. “In fact, I don’t think either of us are.”
She nodded with a slight smile. “True,” she confessed, enjoying the feel of his hands.
Chance stroked her lip with his thumb. “But I don’t know how to be without you, Ngozi. I’ve tried and failed. Twice.”
More truth.
The hour was late. Later than she’d ever stayed at Chance’s home, but when their simple kisses filled with heat and passion, she didn’t dare to resist. Once she stroked him to hardness, in tune to her soft sucking motions of his tongue, the chill of the glass against her body faded as the heat of their passion reigned. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist after he hoisted her body up, centered her core above his upright hardened length and lowered her body down on each inch until they were united fully.
Ngozi gasped and released a tiny cry as she arched her back, pushing her small but plump breasts forward. Chance licked at each of her taut brown nipples with a low growl as she rotated her hips in an up-and-down motion like a rider on a mechanical bull. She kept looking at him, enjoying the glaze of pleasure in his eyes, the grimace of intensity and the quick shallow breaths through pursed lips as he fought for control.
“Ahhhh,” she sighed, her eyes still locked on him as she released his neck to press the back of her hands against the glass and slid them upward as she continued to wind her hips.
Chance’s grip on her hips deepened, and she felt him harden even more inside her.
“Yes,” she sighed with a grunt of pleasure, closing her eyes as she tilted her head back.
Never had she felt so bold, so sexy, so powerful as she did with Chance. The look in his eyes, the strength of his hold and his reaction to her moves pushed her beyond her normal limits with her sexuality. It was new and refreshing and satisfying in every way.
With him there was no shame. No inhibitions. No denial of her wants and desires.
With him she was free.
With the strength of her thigh muscles from her daily runs, Ngozi gripped his waist tighter and lowered her body down the glass until they were face-to-face. They locked eyes and shared what seemed to be a dozen small kisses as he took the lead, alternating between a deep thrust and a circular rotation of his hips that caused his stiff inches to touch every bit of her feminine core and drag against her throbbing bud.
And there against the chilly glass, with the heat they created steaming away the frost, Chance stroked them to another explosive climax that shook Ngozi to her core with such beauty and pleasure that it evoked tears.
She felt like she was free-falling.
It was amazing.
Still shivering, she clung to Chance and buried her face against his neck as he walked them over to his bed. She relaxed into the softness of the bed and snuggled one of the down pillows under her head. She closed her eyes as the exhaustion of her emotions and her climax defeated her.
“You’re staying?” Chance asked, his surprise swelling in his voice.
She nodded as he curved his body to hers and wrapped a strong arm around her waist after pulling a cool cotton sheet over them.
Ngozi snuggled down deeper on the bed, content that she didn’t have the will or the energy to leave him.
* * *
It was early morning before Ngozi made the short trip home from Alpine to Passion Grove. She entered her security code on the side entrance in the massive kitchen, pushing it open as a yawn escaped her mouth. Chance had gifted her another mind-blowing, energy-sapping, eyes-crossing orgasm before she left him.
“No sleep last night?”
Startled, she paused in the doorway at her father sitting at the mahogany island, still in his plaid robe and pajamas, drinking from a cup of what she presumed to be coffee from the heavy scent of it in the air. “Sir?” she asked, by way of st
alling as her nerves were instantly rattled.
“We’re not trying to heat the outdoors, Ngozi.”
Her head whipped to the right to find her mother at the breakfast nook, also in her nightclothes as she drummed her clear-coated fingernails atop the round table.
Double trouble.
Ngozi turned to close the door, pausing to lick her lips as she furrowed her brows. She felt like a child about to be scolded.
“Reeds was kind enough to let us know you called and told him you were staying in the city for the night at the firm’s apartment,” her father began, ever the attorney—retired or not.
Late last night, she had dug her phone out of the pile of clothing on the floor and texted Reeds to cover for her yet again. “Good, I wouldn’t want you to worry,” she said, striding across the kitchen at a pace that could have won a speed-walking race with ease.
“Ngozi,” her mother said, all simple and easy.
Deceptive as hell.
Ngozi paused and turned, uncomfortable with her face makeup-free and her hair disheveled, dressed in the same white outfit she’d worn to the art gallery the night before.
“Your father is retired from the firm but he’s still the majority owner, my daughter,” Val said, turning on the padded bench to fold her legs and look across the distance at her daughter. “And that includes the firm’s apartment—”
Oh damn.
She was a gifted attorney as well and knew exactly where she had made a wrong calculation. Her eyes shifted from one to the other. Her father took another drink, and in that moment, Ngozi wished he would stir his spoon in his cup so the floor would open and send her to her own special sunken place.
They know I wasn’t there.
“Who is he?” Horace asked, setting the cup down on top of the island.
Ngozi opened her mouth to lie. When it came to her relationship with her parents, subterfuge was her first line of defense.
Val held up a hand. “Let’s remember that anything less than the truth is disrespect,” she advised before shifting her focus back to her husband.
“Who is he?” Horace repeated.
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