Taken_by_Chance_ARe_June14

by Chloe Cox

  She nodded. He hated to see the light in her eyes go out. He caught himself thinking of ways to bring it back and then shook his head, as if he could clear those thoughts away.

  But by the time he pulled in through the remote controlled gate and into the covered garage, Lena looked like she was about to cry.

  Damn it.

  “Ok, Lena? Listen. Tell me what’s wrong. This whole thing is busted if it upsets you.”

  She laughed, but it was bitter. “What’s wrong is now I feel like an asshole,” she said, wiping a tear away from her eye. “And scared. Both.”

  Chance laughed, too, as he walked around the car to open her door.

  “Being an asshole is underrated,” he said, offering her his hand. “I like to do it from time to time myself.”

  She smiled again, lighting up the whole garage. Felt like the best thing he’d managed to do all week.

  “So this is just a brief sojourn into heroism?” she asked.

  The word “heroism” hit him hard, just as she placed her warm, soft hand in his. Chance felt knocked right on his heels, standing there open-mouthed, trying to think of something true he could say that wouldn’t destroy that happiness in her eyes.

  He forced himself to smile. “I’m not a hero, Lena,” he said. “I’m not even a particularly good guy.”

  She didn’t look away. More to the point, she looked deep into his eyes. Like she saw right through him.

  She was mesmerizing.

  Suddenly he was fighting—hard—to keep his promise to himself and keep his hands off of her.

  “We’ll just have to disagree about that for now,” she finally said.

  She was too freaking much. He said, “You are just hot and cold, huh?”

  “It’s part of my mystique,” she said, grinning. “Besides, I can always change my mind.”

  “You feel safe now?”

  “Safer.”

  “How do we get you all the way to safe?”

  Neither of them had moved. He was still standing beside her door; she was still between him and the car. So close to him. The image of her, naked on the hood of his car, legs spread for him…

  What a thing to be thinking about when he wanted her to feel safe. Jesus.

  “I don’t know,” she said softly. She looked as conflicted as he was. “I’ve had a weird few days.”

  Chance wanted to hunt down whoever had hurt her and take her in his arms, all at once, and neither of those things would be good for either of them. Christ, he could smell her. She smelled like coconut and sex and something else he couldn’t identify, but wanted more of immediately.

  He couldn’t have this conversation like this. Being this close to her was distracting, and he had to address what was bothering her first. He was beginning to think she really was a natural sub—and that she needed a Dom to help her through this moment.

  “Ask me anything,” he said, turning around. He was starting to feel jumpy, his muscles twitching alive. He’d never wanted anyone this way but he was determined to do right by her. He didn’t even turn to see her follow him, knowing he’d see those unbelievable breasts bouncing in a flimsy tank top. Maybe he could get her a sweatshirt or something.

  “Ask you anything?” she said, hurrying behind him.

  “Yup, what I said. Tit for tat. I’ll answer anything you want, then I ask you. We get to know each other. You feel safe and can relax. Ok?”

  He needed to get her somewhere neutral. Immediately. Somewhere where there’d be some kind of obstacle between the two of them. Somewhere he could get the information he needed to help her, quickly.

  “You really don’t know what the story is?” she said, grabbing his hand. He stopped and turned around to find her eyes wide and expectant, like she’d just asked him the most important question she could think of. “You really haven’t seen the pictures?”

  Damn. Pictures. He didn’t need details. If they were at all the kinds of pictures he was thinking of, he could understand why she’d be suspicious of men who suddenly wanted to get to know her.

  Obviously someone had done that to her. She wasn’t a fame whore; she was fucking traumatized.

  “Jesus,” he said. She flinched, and he struggled to figure out how to make it better. “I meant…shit, Lena, no, I haven’t seen any pictures. I have no idea what happened to you, but if it messed you up this bad, it must have been terrible. I’m not going to see them, either. You tell me about when you’re ready, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re just the girl next door, you understand?”

  They had stopped under the trellis that covered the walk from the garage to the main building, and the warm California light was falling on her face in shifting patterns, twisting and turning in the slight breeze coming in off the water. Every time he looked at her, she was more beautiful. He was twisting up inside, just trying to keep himself from thinking about how much more beautiful she’d be when she came, pissed at himself for having a dirty mind with a woman who’d already been sexually violated once this week. That was the last goddamn thing she needed.

  He was determined to be the good guy this time. He’d have to be all Dom with her. See how she reacted to what was going on inside, and take it from there.

  “The girl next door,” she said, with a kind of sad smile. “I’ll take it.”

  “Was that one of your questions?” he said, unable to help himself. He wanted to see that pure smile again.

  “No, you don’t get off that easy.”

  She had to use the phrase “get off?” Chance shook his head, and it was just as ineffectual as the last time. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Look, let’s at least get inside, then you can grill me all you want.”

  Lena looked at him. “I will.”

  chapter 3

  Lena tried not to pry, as a general rule, but this was the new Volare club. Everyone wanted in, nobody knew would be in and who would be out, and here she was.

  It was amazing. The club must have bought six lots, all contiguous, maybe more, and turned the whole thing into a walled compound. Some of the houses had been rebuilt, some had been torn down. There were landscaped gardens and water features, a pool, a hot tub—Lena’s mind lingered there for a while—a spa, hammocks swinging in the trees, all of it shielded from outside view. The whole place looked absolutely blissful, and she hadn’t even been inside yet.

  And Chance…

  The man’s presence just overrode every rational thought in her brain. It was like she kept slipping into the moment when he was around, forgetting what was going on in her life, just enjoying herself. And then with a start she’d remember, and she didn’t know whether to be suspicious or embarrassed or…well, turned on.

  Whenever he gave an order—and they were definitely orders—she was positively turned on.

  She couldn’t help it. She doubted any woman in her position would be able to keep her head straight, but she wasn’t most women. She knew better than most how risky it was to trust anyone.

  Yet she could feel herself looking, searching, yearning for a reason to trust this man.

  Totally nuts.

  “You ok?” he said again. He was holding the door open for her. She must be such a distracted mess.

  “Just grand,” she said, and stepped inside.

  Holy…

  She had expected something serene and private. Instead they had just entered a great room that was buzzing with activity. There were dozens of people running around, clearing out furniture, setting up giant sculpture lights that looked like…sea creatures, maybe? It looked like every crazed party planning process she’d ever seen. Like a wedding, only with a lot less lace and a lot more leather.

  Oh my. What was that contraption?

  Lena looked at him. “Dude.”

  Chance laughed again. She loved to hear it—it was like warm gravel, somehow. She didn’t even know what that meant. He was actually making her lose it.

  He said, “Yeah, this stuff isn’t really my thing. I’m more about the
actual party.”

  She could imagine. Do NOT look back at that equipment.

  “I didn’t know you guys had opened, officially.”

  “We haven’t. Tomorrow night’s a special preview for special people. You wanna come?”

  Lena tried to hide her reaction. Well, if she hadn’t believed him before when he’d said he hadn’t seen the pictures, she did now. Because if he had seen them, claimed not to, and then he’d invited her to an obviously BDSM-themed party, he would be kind of a jerk. And whatever else was going on, she had confirmation that, at the very least, Chance Dalton cared about doing the right thing.

  “I don’t know if that would be such a good idea,” she said. “Under the circumstances.”

  Chance flashed those dimples again. “I think you might change your mind. And there’s always an open invitation for the girl next door.”

  Awkward moment. Made even more awkward when Lena saw someone she actually knew from real life in the milieu: Adra, her agent’s former assistant. She hadn’t seen Adra in months, but had always liked her, especially in comparison to Lena’s sleazebag agent, Dan. The guy kept trying to get her to “cash in” on Richie’s leaked photos. He’d even wanted to know if there was a video. Lena had just stopped taking his calls, which maybe wasn’t the smartest career move, but it wasn’t like she had a shot at the career she wanted now, anyway.

  And she really didn’t want to talk about all that with someone who had probably seen her naked in the last two days.

  “Chance, can we maybe go somewhere with fewer people?” she said.

  The moment Lena recognized someone, the crowd of people began to press in on her. All she could think about was that they all knew. What they all thought of her. What they’d all think of seeing her here, with Chance.

  And then her inner cynic thought, Maybe that’s what he wanted all along. Maybe he is just trying to drum up publicity for the club. Or maybe I’m just a fun conquest.

  She hated her inner cynic. But it didn’t matter. Inner cynic would speak, and Lena would be unable to ignore her, because her inner cynic was almost always right. And now all the progress she’d made—getting comfortable with Chance, getting comfortable with anyone who wasn’t Thea—seemed to evaporate.

  Chance looked at her with those blue eyes, and she felt transparent.

  “Yeah, come on,” he said, and led her to a stairwell.

  They climbed forever in the dim light of the back stairs, Lena doing her best not to watch Chance’s ass in those jeans. When they finally emerged, it was on a roof deck, but not the dry, arid concrete of most Venice roof decks. Someone had landscaped this one. It was just as green and lush as the gardens downstairs, and felt just as private, with vines and flowers and even one tiny tree.

  Chance walked over to the wall around the edge of the roof, most of it covered with honeysuckle, and took in the view. When he turned back to Lena, his smile was dazzling.

  “This better?”

  Did this man have any idea how beautiful he was? It was almost harder to look at him than it was to look directly into the sun. He stretched out his arms and threw his head back, just an animal happy to be out in the world, and oh God, there was that V right over his hips again, the bottom part of what Lena knew would be an eight pack, leading directly down…

  Her inner cynic went nuts.

  “What are your three biggest fears?” she blurted out.

  Chance snapped his head down to pierce her with those eyes again. Lena felt her embarrassment rising from her toes up, like she was a freaking mercury thermometer measuring the level of social awkwardness. But she couldn’t help it. The more she felt drawn to this man, the more vulnerable she felt, and the more vulnerable she felt, the more her defenses kicked in. She was freaked out because for some reason she wanted to please him, and she was desperate for a reason to trust him, or at least a reason to feel like she knew him, even a little bit.

  Because her heart already felt like she did. And her inner cynic knew her heart was a moron.

  And it was her stupid, idiot heart that was threatening to take over, her heart that was beating dangerously fast as he walked over to her with his square jaw clenched shut, his brow furrowed, his eyes worried. He stopped just short of her, and she almost willed him out loud to just touch her. There was some kind of field between them, something that pulled at her core, something that she wouldn’t be able to resist for much longer.

  What was it about him?

  “Three is cheating,” he said. “I’ll give you number three. Then it’s your turn.”

  “Ok,” she breathed. He was so close. She could smell him. No cologne, no spice, just…male. “You already know your third biggest fear?”

  “I had some bad nights after I came back from Afghanistan. I got ‘em ranked already.”

  Lena immediately felt horrible, but Chance didn’t seem bothered. Not even a little bit. She could feel his eyes on her, unwavering, intense, raw. What was he thinking?

  Did he feel this, too?

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking down.

  “Not your fault. It’s always a little different, and half the time it doesn’t make any sense, because dreams are crazy. But it’s always someone I love dying, and always because of something I did. Something I screwed up.”

  “Oh God…”

  Ask a personal question, get a personal answer. She couldn’t believe he’d told her that. Like she deserved that confidence.

  “Hey,” Chance said, and tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. That voice again. Commanding. “There’s nothing for you to feel bad about. And you owe me an answer.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, trying to make it a joke, like maybe that way he wouldn’t see the effect he had on her.

  Instead something flashed in Chance’s eyes. Something hard, and hungry. It burned where their skin touched, and Lena wanted more of it. She wanted whatever she’d just seen. The hunger hit her like a blow to the chest, flooding her body, making her breasts swell, her nipples harden, her clit ache, and she sucked in her breath.

  For a moment, he seemed lost in it, too. Then he snapped awake and took a step back.

  “What’s your name?” he asked. “That’s my first question.”

  “Oh wow,” Lena muttered. “I can’t believe I didn’t tell you my name.”

  “Tell me.” He said it quick, rough. His tone made her clench, drove the ache even deeper, and she took a deep, calming breath.

  Why had he walked away? Why did she care? She should be terrified of what this represented, of what Chance was, after what she’d been through with Richie. Richie had convinced her to finally explore the kinks she’d always fantasized about, and then he’d used it to hurt her. Chance was into the same things. She hadn’t known if the rumors were true, but everything about him said that he was dominant in everything. She should want to run away. She did want to run away, in a way. But her body wanted to run right into his arms. It was only all the years of heartbreak and scar tissue that kept her still.

  “Lena Simone Maddox,” she said. “I use my middle name professionally, though.”

  “I like Lena.”

  She smiled weakly. “Me, too.”

  “Your turn, Lena.”

  Her mind was spinning. She felt light-headed—high, even. All she wanted was for him to come close to her again. She wanted his hands on her, she wanted his mouth on hers, she wanted him to help her stop thinking herself in circles. That’s what she’d been doing the past two days, and it was killing her, and she was still afraid of taking the plunge.

  “Why did you help me, really?” Lena said.

  “Lena,” he said, looking down at her. “Here’s the truth. I don’t like men who pick on women. And seeing you smile is the best part of my day. That’s it. That’s all of it. I don’t want anything else from you, and I don’t have much else to offer you.”

  Oh God.

  The best part of his day…

  …Much else?

 
That did it. Lena closed her eyes, hard, and when she opened them back up she knew what she wanted. She told her inner cynic to shut up and sit down, took a deep breath, and decided to take the plunge.

  “Chance?” she said. And then she froze. What was she going to say? Oh, hey, Mr. StupidlyGoodLooking, for some reason I feel like I want to just throw myself at you? Even though, like, an hour ago I was swearing off all human beings in general? And since that’s obviously pretty weird, I figure the best course of action is to just explore that. See where it takes us.

  “Yes?” he said, turning to pin her with those eyes again.

  So. Blue.

  “Ok, really quickly, because in a minute I’m going to chicken out,” she said, the words tumbling out of her faster than she thought possible. “Have you ever felt like your life was just spinning entirely out of control?”

  Chance tilted his head slightly, waiting for her to explain herself. Only she had no explanation. This was, hands down, one of the weirdest days of her life, and now she was just going with it. Because if Chance had shown her one thing so far, it was that she felt better when she took control of what she wanted. And she wanted him. She didn’t want to have to think about tomorrow, she didn’t want to have to worry about the future, she didn’t want to have to hope for forever with someone who was going to turn around and stab her in the back. She wanted one thing that was just…hers. One thing that would prove to herself that she wasn’t entirely broken, that she wasn’t used up, wasn’t damaged.

  One time with Chance Dalton.

  Just one, incredible time. With Chance.

  She walked up to him, shaking like a leaf. His eyes tracked her, burning bright, but he didn’t move.

  “I know what that feels like,” he said slowly. “It can make you do crazy things.”

  They were so close now. There was a sheen of sweat on his collarbone, a little bit of delicious scruff on his jaw. From the corner of her eye she could see him flexing those large hands, open, closed, open, closed.