Love Me Like I Love You

by Willow Winters

  “We’re behind the other room now,” she tells me as she stands, shining the light around. The roofline angles down on one side, and exposed beams and insulation surround us. The room looks like an old attic and is only a few feet wide. “There was a cot in here, right up against that wall.” She shines the light on the wall opposite us. “But it was full of mice so it had to be taken out. And there was another door leading from the crawlspace to here, but it wasn’t in good shape either. Some of the boards had to be replaced, and obviously the little squares of carpet were added. I got splinters enough times crawling through here that I lined it to save my knees.”

  “Do you hang out in here often?”

  “No. It’s hot as hell, as you can tell. But sometimes I come here and just think about who stayed here, praying not to be caught and for a better life. Gives me perspective,” she adds quietly.

  I step forward and the boards creak beneath my feet. Pictures are carved into one of the wooden beams, along with the name ‘Ester.’ “It’s amazing this has survived.”

  “It is. There was an old lantern and a schoolbook with notes written in it under the bed. The book is super fragile, but can still be flipped through. And the lantern is on my coffee table. I like lanterns.”

  “I noticed,” I say with a smile.

  Sierra inhales and gathers her hair in her hand, pulling it off her neck. “Want to get out of here? The heat gets to you fast, which makes me feel like a baby when I think about people staying here for days.”

  “I am very grateful for whoever invented air conditioning.”

  “Me too,” Sierra says and goes back through the crawlspace.

  “Do you do yoga?” I ask, mind going into the gutter on its own accord as I imagine Sierra in various poses.

  “I used to. And speaking of air conditioning, the upstairs only recently had the ductwork done to get central air up here. It was too hot most of the time before.” She closes the closet door and her eyes go to a photo on her bookshelf.

  It’s of her and Jake.

  “I was trying to do most of the renovations myself,” she goes on. “So I could only do a bit at a time since, you know, it’s super expensive to update old houses. But my parents thought it would be a good distraction, I guess, and paid for everything up here to be updated so I could decorate. I like decorating.”

  “A distraction?” I ask, though I already know what she’s talking about.

  She looks away from the photo. “After Jake died, I stopped doing pretty much everything I used to do.” Slowly, she shakes her head. “It hurt. A lot. And instead of feeling it, I shut down. It’s easier to feel nothing, after all.” She blinks and flicks her gaze to me. “I don’t know why I just told you that. I’ve never told anyone that before. If you want to rethink the whole basket case thing, I don’t blame you.”

  I close the distance between us and take her hand. “I don’t think you’re a basket case, Sierra. You do what you have to do to guard your heart. Life is hard. Sometimes the best you can do is survive.”

  Her long lashes come together as she closes her eyes in a long blink. “Why do I get the feeling you’re speaking from personal experience?”

  “Because I am.”

  I slide my fingers up her arm and over her shoulder. Sierra closes her eyes and leans in. With my other hand, I reach behind her, putting my hand on the small of her back, and bring her in so her hips are against mine. Sierra brings her arm up and rests her hand on my chest, feeling my heartbeat.

  I want to kiss her.

  I want to taste her.

  Feel her.

  Love her.

  “Chase,” she whispers, tipping her head up.

  “Sierra,” I whisper back, moving her hair over her shoulder. I press my forehead against hers, getting more and more turned on from her touch as each second passes by. She curls her fingers in, bunching my shirt beneath her grasp. I run my fingers along the skin on her back, exposed from the backless dress.

  She shuffles closer, taking her other hand and setting it on my waist. Desire comes over me like a wave crashing on the shore and I lose the shred of self-control I was holding onto.

  I put my lips to Sierra’s, gently cupping her face. She hesitates for a second and then she kisses me back.

  And neither one of us can stop.

  Sierra’s arms wrap around me, holding me as close as she can. I kiss her hard, hands moving down to the hem of her dress. I pull it up, and then take hold of her legs, lifting her up and pressing her against a bookshelf. Sierra wraps her legs around me and moves her lips from mine to my neck. She sucks on my skin and rakes her fingers through my hair.

  I move one of the straps of her dress off her shoulders, watching as the fabric slides down, and cup her breast in my hand. My cock hardens against her, and Sierra lets out a moan as she feels it, pushing her core against me.

  I press her harder against the shelf, using one hand to bunch up her dress. She widens her legs and throws her head back as I kiss her neck. The shelf wobbles and books fall around us, but that doesn’t stop us.

  I’ve never wanted someone more than I want Sierra at this moment. I want to make her feel because it makes me feel, and for once, nothing hurts. Everything feels right.

  She reaches down, trying to undo my pants. I slip both hands around her legs and move so she can undo my belt, sliding it out of the loops and dropping it on the floor. She takes my lip between her teeth as she pops the button on my pants. Her fingers are just inches away from my dick, and I push her against the shelf again in order to reposition us.

  A picture frame comes crashing down, glass shattering as it hits the shelf below, and then crashes onto the floor. Sierra tenses and turns her head away.

  Shit.

  The photo that fell was the picture of her with Jake that I saw just minutes ago. I look down at the floor. Broken glass lies in shards around my feet, and Jake and Sierra’s smiling faces stare up at us. Jaw tense, I move my gaze back to Sierra’s. Her green eyes are wide with horror.

  And then she laughs.

  “Sorry,” she says. “It’s not funny at all. I don’t know why I’m laughing. It’s just…you’re the first person I’ve kissed since Jake died and his photo falls from the shelf and cuts me.”

  “You got cut?”

  “I think so. I felt something fly up and hit me when the glass shattered.” She inhales and looks over my shoulder at her foot. Her legs are still around me and I don’t want to let go.

  “Yep. I’m bleeding.”

  There’s no panic in her voice, no sign that she’s in really any pain at all, yet knowing that she got cut upsets me more than I thought it would. I tighten my grip on her, look down at the broken glass. Carefully stepping over it, I move to the rainbow-colored carpet in the middle of the room and gently set Sierra down. Her eyes are on the broken photo frame and a tear rolls down her cheek.

  “Sorry,” she says and quickly wipes it away.

  “Don’t be,” I whisper, crouching down next to her so I can look at the jagged cut on her ankle. The ache in my heart turns to anger. This isn’t how things were supposed to turn out. The Mystery Woman was supposed to find happiness again. She wasn’t supposed to struggle and hurt for this long.

  “It doesn’t look that deep,” I go on, gently wiping away a bead of blood with my fingertip. “I’ll clean it for you and make sure there’s no glass inside the wound.”

  She nods, still looking at the broken frame. I stand and reach out to her to help her to her feet. “Thank you, Chase.”

  “Do you have a first aid kit and tweezers?”

  Her eyes widen and her nostrils flare. “I do, but I don’t like the sound of this. Won’t it just work its way out on its own?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe the skin will grow over it and you’ll have an infected piece of glass inside your body.”

  “I’ve had worse things inside me.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Really now?”

  She quickly shakes her head. “I d
idn’t mean it like that.”

  “Sure,” I say with a smirk. I help her to her feet and follow her into the kitchen. I get her first aid kit from under the counter and wash the cut, then give Sierra an ice cube to hold on the wound for a minute before I go in with the tweezers and pick out the shard of glass.

  “Have you done this before?” she asks, looking away as I gently pull her torn flesh apart.

  “A few times. Though never from a broken picture frame.”

  I can feel her eyes on me, and I know she’s curious. “Got it,” I say, holding up the tweezers. A tiny piece of bloody glass is between them. I put it on a napkin, and then clean up the cut and put a bandage over it. “Good as new.”

  “Thank you, Chase. There’s no way I could have done that myself. I don’t mind blood or guts or anything, but digging glass out of my own skin is a giant nope.”

  “It’s harder to do that kind of stuff to yourself. Pain makes most people hesitate, and it can be hard to inflict pain on yourself, even when necessary.”

  “Most people,” she echoes, looking at me as if she can see the darkness within. “But not you?”

  I shrug. “I learned a long time ago that you should do what needs to be done.” My hands are still on Sierra’s smooth leg.

  “I should clean up the glass,” she says but doesn’t move her leg off my lap. “The cats might walk in it. And picking glass out of their paws won’t be this easy.”

  I go with her, helping her sweep up the mess. She puts it in a bag, and we go outside to put it in her recycling bin. She turns to go back inside, and I hesitate. I’m not good with feelings. Being sensitive has never been my thing. The whole situation with being the first man Sierra’s been with since her boyfriend died…yeah…I have no fucking clue how to handle it.

  But I do know that no matter what, I want to make Sierra happy.

  “I can go if you want me to.”

  Her lips part, eyes mirroring the desperation I feel inside. “I don’t want you to.”

  “Then I’ll stay.” Stepping forward, I take Sierra in my arms. She rests her head against my chest.

  “Okay,” she says softly, staying wrapped in my arms. The night is alive and a half-moon shines in the sky, dotted with sparkling stars. It’s quiet. It’s peaceful. It almost feels like home.

  “Is that the river?” I ask, turning my head and looking at the trees behind her house.

  “Yeah.” She twists and follows my gaze. “The same one that goes by your place. We’re not that far apart, actually. If the road went straight from my house to yours, it would only take a few minutes to get to you.”

  “I’d like that.” I inch my fingers along the silky fabric of her dress. “Josh tried to convince me that was the Mississippi River when I was a kid. I believed him.”

  That brings a smile to Sierra’s face. “I told my cousin the same thing. My family on my mom’s side is from Connecticut. They hate coming here. My cousins are all stuck-up and judgmental. It was fun making them feel stupid. Which makes me sound awful, doesn’t it?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Good. Because they are awful. Trust me.”

  “I’ve been running the deer paths along the river. I kind of ended up behind your parents’ barn. I didn’t realize it ran by your house before.”

  “When Lisa and I were kids, we’d follow the river and see where we’d end up. Funny story, actually, the first time we made it all the way to The Mill House, your dad was there. I, uh, was always kind of scared of him. And that’s not a funny story at all. God, I’m awkward.”

  I laugh and put my hands on her waist, well aware of my inability to stop touching her. “He kind of scared me too when I was a kid. Well, the few times I even saw him.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “So, you’ve been to Summer Hill before.”

  “Yeah, but the last time was ten years ago when I was fifteen.”

  “I would have been thirteen then. Were you here long?”

  “No. I came with my mom, who tried to drop me off with my dad for the summer so she could run off to Cabo with her then-boyfriend. I was here for a week before I left.”

  Sierra wraps her arms around my shoulders, stepping in close. My cock starts to harden again from the innocent gesture. She affects me on every level.

  She’s dangerous.

  “You just left?”

  “Yeah. I went home. I had friends there and bounced around for a few weeks until she came back. She didn’t even realize I was back early. I still think if I hadn’t come home on my own, she’d have never come back for me.” I let out a breath. I’ve never opened up like this about my past to anyone before. “But hey, it all worked out.”

  She slowly moves her head back and forth, about to say something when a strangled screech comes from the woods.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “Most likely a coyote. Though there have been rumors about chupacabras.”

  “You have coyotes and mountain lions here?”

  The soft breeze blows Sierra’s silky hair around her face. “There hasn’t been a confirmed mountain lion sighting in years, but some of the farmers swear that’s what’s attacking their cattle.”

  The same high-pitched howl echoes off the house again.

  “It’s kind of creepy, especially if it’s not a coyote,” she admits. “Want to come in?”

  “Yeah, I’ve never faced a chupacabra before.”

  “Me neither and I don’t feel like it tonight. I have no weapons.”

  I take her hand and follow her back inside. She shuts and locks the door behind us.

  “What do you want to do?” she asks, and I can feel her discomfort.

  I want to kiss her again, feel her breasts crush against me and push her up against the wall. I push my desire to the side. For her sake.

  “I don’t care,” I start, and then spot a book laying on her coffee table. “Is that Unbroken?”

  Sierra picks up the book. “Yeah. Perks of working in a bookstore. I get early copies. Have you read the others in the series?”

  “Yeah. I actually preordered that one on my Kindle.”

  Lust fills Sierra’s eyes for a moment. Her cheeks flush and her lips part. She glides over, fingers clutching the book. Then she shakes her head, and the want is gone. “It’s a good series. Emma Stark is a crazy good writer.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. “The first movie was pretty good too.”

  She hands me the book and we sit on the couch, discussing the similarities between the book and the movie. The air conditioner kicks on and Sierra shivers. I reach for a folded blanket on the arm of the couch and spread it out over her. She yawns and rests her head against my shoulder.

  Remembering that she woke up hungover and is running on little sleep, I hook my arm around her and open the book.

  “It’s signed?”

  “Yeah, so don’t crack the spine,” she says with a smile. “You can read it if you want.” Her smile disappears. “Sorry I’m boring and lame. This is the worst date, I know.”

  I kiss her forehead. “I’ve had worse.”

  Chapter 13

  Sierra

  “Sierra.”

  Someone nudges my arm and says my name again. I think. Maybe? Or am I dreaming. I’m tired and don’t want to get up. I’m warm and comfy laying on the couch with Chase’s body spooned around mine.

  My eyes fly open.

  Chase is with me.

  I’m nuzzled up next to him, with my ass pressed firmly against his cock.

  And it feels good.

  “Sierra,” he says again, reaching over me and picking my phone up from the coffee table. “An alert for your security system just went off.”

  “Huh? I don’t…I didn’t hear…” I blink and slowly push up. My brain is all hazy with sleep. I take the phone from him and squint in the dark. It wasn’t dark when I fell asleep. Chase sat with me, gently running his hand through my hair as he
read. Falling asleep while he read probably made this the most boring first date in the history of dates, but there was something so nice about it. So comfortable.

  I want to do it again.

  I want this to be a routine.

  I want more of Chase Henson.

  “It’s my parents’ house.” I unlock my phone to see what’s going on. “They’re out of town and set it up for me to get the alerts. It’s probably just Marley setting off the motion detectors again. He does that a lot at night.”

  “Marley? Is he the family ghost or something?”

  I raise an eyebrow and look away from my phone at Chase. “He’s a parrot. The ghost is too sophisticated to set off the alarm. Plus, it stays in the attic.”

  “You really have a ghost in the—never mind. So everything is okay over there?”

  “Probably,” I say, seeing the cause of the alarm. “The motion sensor in the sunroom picked something up, and that’s where his cage is. He either threw something out of his cage or he got—shit.”

  My phone buzzes in my hand and I reluctantly answer, talking to the person from the alarm system company. I give them the proper passwords and things seem okay, and then I tell them not to alert my parents—the homeowners—because they are out of town. Suddenly, I lose my credibility and the cops are on their way.

  I rub my forehead and look at Chase. I don’t have a chance to say it before he disagrees.

  “You’re still not a basket case.”

  “That’s debatable,” I mumble and get up, missing the feel of his body against mine immediately. “I’m a boring, lame, basket case.”

  “At least you’re good-looking,” he jokes. “Do you have to go to the house?”

  “Yeah. I should check if Marley got out or not anyway.”

  “Let me come with. In case it’s not the bird and it’s something else. Those chupacabras can be rather unpredictable, you know.”

  “Ah, right. I do need a big, strong man to protect me.”