by Amy Fetzer
"That was unfair, Chase," she hissed the instant they were alone.
His hard gaze slid to her. "Are you on the prowl already?"
"I never was and you know it!" she said through a tight smile.
"I was wondering, with that dress."
"I can take care of myself with those wolves. And your fiancée? Was that really necessary?"
His features tightened. "It did the trick."
When he didn't offer more than flippancy, she stopped abruptly and faced him, head-on, her voice a low, angry bite. "It isn't my clothes that are bothering you, is it? You don't want me, but you'll be damned if anyone else will, either."
She didn't give him a chance to comment and asked one of his competitors to dance. Chase stood on the sidelines, not sure what had just happened, and unable to do anything but gather his thoughts and watch her.
She was graceful and exotic and turned several heads as she danced, the glittering fabric shivering over her skin.
When it was over, she didn't return to their table. Chase regretted his comments. This was his last chance. He'd done the unthinkable for her love, to ease his pain and end his suffering. Nightly he'd hoped she was as unhappy as he, but one look at her vibrant smile told him to think again. Yet as she moved around the room, he could pick out her laugh as if he had radar. She was facing him and, briefly, her gaze strayed, locking with his. Chase felt electrified by it and the conversation he was supposed to be involved in seemed to fade away to nothing but Tessa.
Dark possession reared in Chase, a beast screaming inside him. He didn't even offer an excuse to the people talking around him as he left their circle and strode to her.
Tessa's entire body tensed as he neared. He was going to make a scene, she thought, his expression so black and scowling she felt her hands shake. He stopped inches from her, ignored her conversation partners, took her drink and set it on the tray of a passing waiter. Then he caught her hand and pulled her onto the dance floor. He swept her into his arms.
"Chase. That was rude." He held his long frame back from her, bodies inches apart, dignified. But it felt like miles.
"Don't talk. Just dance."
"Go to hell." She tried to step out of his embrace.
He jerked her flush against him. His eyes flared at the contact.
"I am not yours to control."
"No, you prefer that task for yourself."
"You never had to stick around, Chase."
"Yes, I did. Christopher is my son, too."
Not because I love you, she thought, looking away, but for Christopher's sake. Obviously loving his son and loving her were two different things. Were two different things, echoed in her head. She lifted her gaze, noticing the hard line of his mouth, the suppressed rage in his expression. It seemed so hopeless.
"Smile," she said through gritted teeth and a fake grin. "We're supposed to be engaged."
His expression shifted from shock to realization in the space of a wink. "Oh, yeah." Her legs brushed his, her hips rocking to the music, and Chase remembered what it was like to feel her naked in his arms. He closed his eyes, willing his body to behave. It didn't.
Tessa pretended not to notice.
This is want you wanted, Tessa thought. To be close to him again, to have his attention long enough to take back what she'd lost to her foolishness. Obviously loving his son and loving her were two different things. The thought pounced on her over and over, tearing at her composure. She'd known it for a while, it just took longer to understand the price of her misjudgment. The weeks apart from him were hard pills to swallow. For she knew she would have loved Chase even if he wasn't Christopher's father. She loved him for the man he was, not the dad he would be. Even if he chose to walk out of her life and never come back, she would be utterly miserable, but she would still love him with every breath. If she could be certain of this, than why couldn't he? Why hadn't she seen he might be feeling the same way?
When the music softened further, Tessa slid her hand up his lapel, feeling the wild beat of his heart. Look at me, Chase, she silently begged. He did, and she was once again struck with how much she'd hurt him. She had to get him to talk with her rationally.
She gathered her determination and said, "I know you've been visiting Christopher."
His brows shot up.
"Your cologne. He wears it well."
"What are you going to do about it?" She didn't mistake the challenge in his voice.
"Nothing." Her hand slid higher, fingers toying with the curls at his collar, and for a moment, his gaze softened. "I would have let you see him, Chase, anytime, if you'd just asked."
He stopped in the center of the floor, dancers moving around them, but the world, their world, centered on the man locked in her arms. "You didn't want me around, Tessa. At the hospital—"
She pressed her fingers over his lips, silencing him. "I wanted time. I couldn't handle seeing you, then," she whispered. "But I never intended to keep your son from you."
"What did I do to make you hate me so much, Tessa?"
"Oh, Chase," she whispered sadly, then she shook her head. "Not hate, never. Disappointment, maybe."
His features hardened instantly and she felt him tense in her arms. "Who has the right to be disappointed, Tessa? Me, for giving you what you always wanted? Or you, for accepting it?" He stepped out of her arms and headed to their table. Turning, he grabbed her coat, waiting for her to come to him.
It appears, she thought, they were leaving. Good. Because if there was one thing her mother had taught her, it was that a lady didn't do battle in public.
* * *
Twelve
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Tessa pulled away from his grasp as the valet drove before the hotel entrance. "I swear you turn into the rudest man when you're mad."
"Mad?" He stopped short, absently taking the key from the attendant. "You think that's it?"
She met his gaze over the edge of the open car door. "Of course it's not. Pigheaded, irritating, jealous and stubborn come to mind real quick."
"Describing yourself, Tessa?"
"Hah!" she scoffed and slid into the car, taking clear delight in showing off her legs and the knowledge that his glance, though laced with anger, devoured her.
He moved around the front and climbed into the driver's seat, jamming the key in the ignition and gunning the engine.
"Chase, calm down. I'd like to be alive to see our son grow up."
It was the fear in her voice that stopped him cold. He looked at her and his expression softened a bit. He drove cautiously away from the curb. Inches apart, they rode in silence, Tessa staring out her window, Chase with his eyes on the road. The tension rose with every mile that passed.
When the city was only a glimmer in the distance, she gathered every ounce of courage to open a wound and ask, very softly, "Are you going to tell me where we're going, or just brood?"
"I'm not brooding."
"Of course not."
He shot her a deadly glare.
"Fine, brood. See if I care." Tessa glanced into the back seat, noticing a large cooler and his bags beside hers. And a briefcase. The papers are in there, she thought, and she realized it didn't matter where they were going. Just as long as they were alone. Tessa's mind worked frantically for a way to get him to talk reasonably with her, yet his underlying anger and hurt radiated from him like a warning light to step carefully. He thought she wanted this end, this total exclusion from her life. Well, he was in for a few surprises. She wasn't signing anything. And when he loosened the tie and opened his shirt collar, her attention focused on how seductive he looked, even glaring bullets at her.
She wanted him. Badly. If she lived two centuries, she would always hunger for his kiss, the way his hands felt on her body. She'd thought about it so much in the past hours, she imagined attacking him at the first opportunity. She didn't want to fight. She wanted desperately to postpone the argument, the inevitable torture of emotions they'd suffer discussing him leaving he
r forever. A knot worked in her throat and she looked at her lap, fidgeting with her purse strap.
Chase glanced to the side and noticed she was biting her lip. She looked scared and his anger softened. "Tessa, I want you to know—"
"Yes?" she said when he hesitated and her stomach pitched.
"I—I'm sorry." He relaxed visibly. "Back there." He inclined his head to the city in the distance. "I swear I hated seeing you gawked at by all those men."
"Hated it because of how you feel about me? Or because of the dress?"
Her coat was open, her lush body outlined in the thin garment, and he remembered the hunger in a half dozen men's eyes. "Both," he snapped, and her hopeful expression fell.
Would she ever get through to him?
"I wanted to be with you, Chase."
An arrow of hope pierced his chest. "Why? You've ignored me for weeks."
She shook her head. "I called and you didn't answer. Even your answering machine wasn't on."
"I smashed it."
Her eyes widened.
He shrugged, a little sheepish. "I haven't bought a new one yet." He wasn't going to tell her that every day he had come home hoping to find a message there from her and when he didn't, his frustration grew until he took it out on the technology.
"I tried to reach you."
It wasn't enough. "You could have come over, dammit. Or called the office or sent up smoke signals, for Christ's sake!"
"And you could have waited for me to come home just one of those times when you were in my house."
"I got tired of always hunting you down!"
"Jeez, are you going to keep verbally beating me or would you rather just deck me one and get it over with?"
He looked horrified. "Hell, no!"
"Well, right now, you look mad enough to tear me in half."
"Well, I'm not!"
She arched a brow at that.
"I'm—" he hesitated "—hell, I don't know what I am," he rasped in frustration, pulling to a sharp halt in front of a cottage and shutting off the motor.
"Me, either," she whispered under her breath as he left the car to open the back and retrieve their bags. "But I will."
A smile ghosted across her lips as she followed, waiting on the porch as he brought the cooler and the bags inside. She looked outside, then inside. It was quaint and rustic. "Hmm." She stepped inside. "Quiet, isolated."
"So?" Lord, he sounded like a school-yard bully.
"This is good."
"Why?" He shut the door, hard.
She tossed her handbag on a nearby side table and let the silk coat slip from her body and onto the floor. Chase's gaze raked her, his dark expression creasing deeper as she strolled closer.
"Why," he repeated, softer. She was so close her breasts gently pressed against his shirt, a soft cushion of temptation and desire, and his body reacted swiftly.
"Because—" She grabbed his lapels, yanking him down to meet her face. His eyes flared. "We're going to make a lot of noise." Her mouth covered his, grinding against his lips, and she didn't stop.
Chase moaned, clutching her in his arms and returning her kiss over and over. The uncapping of sudden desire rocked him to his heels. Her kiss was heavy and penetrating, her mouth wide, her tongue thrusting and teasing in the same sweep. Chase unleashed his frustration, his hands roughly mapping her body from shoulder to thighs, his mouth a hard slash across hers.
It was a battle to see who would surrender.
Neither did.
He cupped her bottom and jerked her against his hard need. She moaned and shoved the jacket off his shoulders, tore at the studs on his shirt. They scattered to the floor like tacks. Chase did what he'd been aching to do all night and covered her breasts with his hands. She whimpered against his mouth, gripping his belt and unleashing the leather, flipping a button, then pushing the zipper down. His kiss grew harder. She jerked his shirt free, molded the bare skin of his stomach, and the heat and fire between them grew to dangerous heights. He shoved the straps off her shoulders, bending her back over his arm as he dragged the fabric down. His lips closed over her bare nipple.
"Oh, God." She clutched his head, sliding her hands beneath his stiff shirt, shoving it down and wishing he was naked and inside her. He devoured her breast, drawing her nipple deep into the hot suck of his mouth, then scraping his teeth across her skin and suckling its mate. "You know where this is going," she managed, breathless as she ran her hands wildly over his chest and down his stomach.
His muscles jumped. "I hope so." He smiled against her nipple, flicking his tongue wildly over the taut peak, and she writhed in his arms. "I have protection."
"Not necessary." She gasped, her hand dipping beneath his waistband, shoving frantically at his trousers and briefs. "Oh, Chase." Her hand encircled him. "You're so warm."
"And hard. I know." Her fingertips slid over his hardness. "Angel, angel. I can't wait."
She met his gaze. "Then don't." The sound of their breath and the slow slide of her zipper filled the room.
"I've been thinking about doing that all night." They sank to the floor.
She opened for him, pulling him between her thighs. He rocked against the heat of her, fabric the only barrier. He wanted it gone. Now. And in quick movements, he shoved her dress up, hooking his thumbs in the sides of her panties and twisting the thin strip around his fist. Savagely, he yanked and the delicate fabric snapped. Her eyes flared. He dragged the scrap from her, dangling it like a trophy before tossing it over his shoulder.
She freed him from his trousers and he plunged into her with a force that drove her across the floor, and Tessa met him, her hips slamming back. She knew he'd held back for her in the past, but this time, Tessa felt the full power of Chase's passion.
It was raw and dark, his body driving and driving, his mouth consuming hers. His fingers plowed into her hair as his body filled hers, harder and harder, and her legs clutched him, begging for more. And he gave it.
Chase couldn't stop himself. He'd hungered for her for so long, loved her so much, and his frustration and hurt and need, his need, spilled over into his touch. He knew he was rough, but she urged him on, her hands erotic and probing, her teeth scraping his flesh, nipping his shoulder. She was hot and slick and pulsing, her breath ragged and he felt her tense and tense—then it came. The wild storm of sensation, the flex of slick muscles surrounding his arousal, the convulsions of her desire swamping him like a hot rain. Chase held her gaze as he drove into her, burying himself deeply, mashing tighter and tighter. Splintered pleasure drenched them in a place only they could reach.
She bucked against him and he rode the pulse, a harsh, guttural groan rumbling in his chest, her name on his lips. The incredible scent of her washed over him and he covered her mouth with his, swallowing her sighs, kissing her long after the last tremor faded.
They said nothing. But Chase remained inside her, still hard, still wanting the world and their problems to go away. She stroked his hair, fingers sifting, and Tessa felt tears trickle from the corner of her eyes and dampen her hair. A small smile curved her lips.
He lifted his head to look at her.
"I love you, Tessa."
Another tear escaped. She cupped his face in her palms. "I love you, too," she whispered over the rock in her throat. "I do."
He brushed his mouth over her lips, her eyes, then slowly left her body, standing to strip off his clothes. His eyes never left hers. He loved watching her watch him. Then he stripped her naked, taking great pleasure in removing the garterless stockings, nibbling her toes before pulling her into the circle of his arms. They stayed on the floor though a bed was only a room away.
He lit a fire in the hearth, carrying her before it and dragging a quilt from the sofa. He tossed it over them both. Chase pillowed his head on her lap, Tessa toying with his hair. He was too contented to move, he thought. Or talk about what needed to be said. He was drained. Smiling softly, he managed to turn his head to look at her. Her breasts we
re bare to his gaze, her eyes closed. Her neat chignon was a wild, sexy tangle. He would never have thought Tessa could be so wonderfully demanding. It was clear he still had a lot to learn about this woman.
"I bet I have scratches on my back."
She smiled, almost smug, but didn't open her eyes. "I bet you woke the dead with that yell."
Slowly he dragged the quilt down, exposing her flesh, the dark triangle between her thighs. He ran his finger along the edge of dewy flesh and she flexed beautifully. Chase pushed open her legs and rolled between. His gaze held with hers as he dipped his head. His tongue stroked across her and he chuckled darkly as she flopped back with a moan.
Chase devoured her, and it was Tessa who woke the spirits with her cries of pleasure.
Long before dawn Chase carried her to the bedroom, wrapped in the quilt. She snuggled under the covers, reaching for him, pulling him around her body. Chase had missed this, and his hands couldn't keep still, every touch reveling in the feel of her skin. He rediscovered her figure without his child inside her, the heaviness of her breasts, the flare of her hips, and he made love to her again, slowly, tenderly, telling her without words that it would always be like this, that he would always love her and need her. If she wanted it.
She did, and Tessa lavished him with her love as he made good on a long-ago whispered promise—to love her anyway he could imagine and never stop. They were gentle and slow, then wild and raw with passion, but neither spoke of the custody papers, of the hurt they'd dealt each other over the weeks. With their bodies they sought healing and rebirth and in each other's arms they slept the sleep of contentment, avoiding the inevitable. Avoiding dawn.
Chase smelled coffee and opened his eyes, squinting against the light streaming through the window. He was alone and a cup rested on the nightstand, daring him to take it and face the day.
He didn't want it. He wanted Tessa to come back to bed and make love with him again. God, she was a wild creature, he thought, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side. He noticed their bags on the floor, hers open and riffled. And the sexy lingerie spilling from the leather case. He knew what she was up to, the little witch. Wild loving would soften him, make him palatable. It did, but part of it kept him from giving in to what he needed to say to her. He wanted to hold these moments a little while longer, Chase thought, bringing the coffee cup to his lips, then realized she was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame.