He reached down and started stroking as he thrust, circling my clit, and pressing as he moved and oh did it feel so good. Moaning, I stopped worrying and started working with him, taking and receiving, moving in rhythm.
“Ah, Emma!” He ground into me, his face contorted with pleasure, mouth open, eyes closed, looking as crazed as I felt. I thrust my hips up to his and he groaned, looking down into my eyes as he started to move, slowly, steadily, deep inside me.
“Chase, it’s so… you’re so…!” I panted, grabbing at him, writhing under him, hand on his muscular ass as he pumped into me. I’d never felt so full, so possessed, so consumed.
“I can’t…” he panted, straining, his muscles taut. “I don’t want to hurt you, but—”
“Don’t hold back.” I raked my fingers across his broad back, wrapping my legs around his waist. “I want you.”
He drove into me, fierce, hard, and I gasped but clung onto him. I didn’t just want him, I needed him, all of him. With a growl, he sank into me, mouth on my neck, hands digging into my buttocks, cock thrusting into me so deep my eyes widened and my mouth opened as I screamed.
But what came out was, “Yes! Oh!” as he fucked me, demanding, relentless. I moaned, sweat glistening, our bodies working together, slick and hot.
“I need you to come, Emma,” he panted, looking into my eyes as he sank into me. “I need it.” I could feel it, so close, bubbling up to the top. With his next thrust I exploded, pleasure pouring over me golden like honey. He reached it, too, his peak, groaning and fisting the sheets as he came, shuddering, sweating, losing control.
Collapsing down, he sank into me, breathing hot and hard at my side, his heart pounding in sync with mine. What had just happened? I’d had sex before, but it had been nothing like that. What I’d experienced before had felt like a little drizzle, a brief interlude that wouldn’t even disrupt a picnic. What had happened between me and Chase? That had been a category five hurricane.
“You’re…” Chase murmured, nuzzling my neck, holding me close. “That was amazing.”
“It’s…I’m…” He’d managed a full sentence. That seemed beyond me as I snuggled into him, kissing his chest, his throat, his lips. How could words describe that kind of intense connection? It went beyond anything I could manage, and I liked to fancy myself a writer, or at least a blogger. Good thing I never wrote sex scenes. At least with a blog you could always just rely on a good visual. For that? It would have to be a GIF of fireworks.
The second time we made love, we went slower, building steady and hungry, drinking each other in as if memorizing every move. I never wanted it to end, never wanted him to stop, never wanted another partner for the rest of my life. It was Chase, Chase who filled me up and made me want so badly I never thought I’d get enough. But when we came together a second time, crying out and groaning and clinging to each other, I got it, the feel of ultimate satisfaction, in his arms, a blissed-out smile on my lips as I drifted off to sleep until morning.
§
The next day, our second-to-last in Atlanta, it felt like everyone wanted a piece of Chase. And they were getting a lot more access than I was. I realized I was growing more protective and possessive. I didn’t like how people prodded at him all the time. His coaches rode him relentlessly, yelling at him to do this, stop doing that, dial it back, focus. It made my head dizzy listening to them.
Reporters hounded him, wanting the scoop. A camera crew arrived, wanting to film another profile on him, requesting his permission to use childhood video footage his father had provided. I was starting to eye reporters the same way he did, feeling suspicious and threatened, wondering what they wanted and how they were going to try to twist what they found for the most dramatic effect.
Chase weathered it all well, keeping so calm. I stopped wondering about why the media portrayed him as cool and started wondering how he kept his cool under so much pressure. They all wanted hype and drama. The real story was how he managed not to lose his mind under all the close scrutiny.
They didn’t know him the way I did. They didn’t care about discovering his past for the right reasons. They just wanted to expand their market with a splashy story.
Around dinner time, my phone rang, finally with a call back from Tori.
“S’up girl?” she belted through the phone. It sounded like she was calling me from a nightclub. “You scooped the story yet?”
“Where are you?” I could barely hear her. I mean, I heard her question well enough to feel a pang of confused guilt stab through my heart. But it was loud wherever she was, her voice nearly drowned out by background noise.
“You’re going to love Rio! Holy shit! I’ve been dancing every night!”
“What time is it there?”
“I don’t know. Six?” So, about our time. I’d thought Rio was only an hour ahead. At five o’clock I had just finished up a run, about to take a shower and change for dinner. Apparently Tori was already going at it full-throttle.
“Wait, someone wants to talk to you!” I heard a rustle and some muffled laughter, then a male voice got on the phone with a thick accent, Portuguese if I had to guess.
“What you up to, the lovely Emma? I see you soon?” I could hear Tori laughing in the background. “I like Tori, your good friend.” Then I heard other sounds, probably kissing.
“OK, Tori?” I asked. “Tori, are you there?”
“Let me call you back in a sec.”
A sec in Brazilian Tori time meant five hours. My phone rang again later that night, while I was in the laundry room at the hotel. I’d been avoiding Chase, like an idiot. But I felt so crazy and confused.
On the one hand, of course we belonged together. There was no question about it. What we had between us was amazing.
But then, there was the stupid blog thing and the more I thought about it the more I knew I was going to have to have a hard conversation with Tori. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t treat Chase like that.
I’d pursued my job with the team with that intention, but that had been before I’d met him. Before I’d fallen for him. I’d thought of Chase like everyone else, a target, a prized acquisition to pursue. But now, that made me sick. I hated seeing others treat him like that. And knowing I’d been one of them—still kind of was since I hadn’t officially taken myself out of that role with Tori yet? It ate away at me.
I needed to talk with Tori and explain, get it off my chest. Then I could talk to Chase and tell him with a clean conscience, yes, in addition to being a physical therapist my friend and I ran a blog. The kind of blog that ran stories about people. And, yes, I had intended to do exactly that about him.
But I wasn’t any more. I wanted off of that train. I felt nervous about telling him about it. He might get angry, feel confused and betrayed. But it wasn’t too late. If we had the conversation now, complete with my assurance I wasn’t after that story any more, it would be all right, wouldn’t it?
“Emma!” Tori sounded blazing drunk. I could picture her, mascara all smudged, hopefully with her clothes still covering all her naughty bits.
“Are you OK?” I asked. At least it sounded quieter now.
“Shag-a-delic, baby!” She burst out into laughter. “Remember that stupid movie? August Powers?”
“Austin Powers.” I remembered. She had a brother who’d been 13 when Goldmember had come out, and he’d pretty much memorized the movie and quoted it day in, day out until we’d started quoting it ourselves.
“Groovy baby, yeah!” Gales of laughter from her. Less from me. This might not be the best time to have the heart-to-heart conversation with my best friend about my change of heart. You know that dream we’ve both had for years now? About taking our blog to the next level? I’m out. Not going to happen.
She babbled, drunk as a skunk, about Luiz and Paulo and the personal tour they’d given her. “Water polo, Ems! That’s the way to go.” Apparently they both played for the Brazilian Water Polo team and they were quite good with their han
ds.
“OK, Tori. Let’s talk tomorrow.”
“It’s all coming together, Emma! Just like we always wanted. Can’t believe it. All our hard work. About to pay off!”
“Right.” About that…
She burst out laughing again, trying to tell me about something that had happened at some club but the words weren’t forming right.
“Drink some water and get some sleep, Tori.” I’d said those words to her before. I’d have to talk to her tomorrow.
“Night bestie!”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” I wondered if she’d still call me bestie after I pulled the plug. She was counting on my big story, my exposé, the type of feature I had right in my wheelhouse, capturing the heart of a gripping story.
It wasn’t going to happen. I couldn’t do it to Chase. But I still felt sick over it, and unresolved, too, since I hadn’t been able to actually talk to her about it yet. There was nothing I hated more than anticipating a nasty conversation. My stomach was all tied up in knots.
I folded my shirts and socks like I had a vendetta against them. They’d done me wrong.
“I hope it’s not me you’re angry about.” Chase walked into the laundry room, looking freshly-showered and devastatingly gorgeous. Those ice blue eyes and superhero shoulders did it to me every time.
“Hey.” I wrapped my arms around him, sinking into him in a deep kiss. Resting my head against his chest, I explained I’d just gotten off the phone with Tori. “She was off-her-ass drunk. I hope she’s all right. She was partying all night with some random guys in Rio.”
“I’m sure she’s fine,” he reassured me. “You’re always taking care of other people, aren’t you?”
I shrugged, not ready to accept his kind words. I had a secret I was keeping from him, and I hated doing it. But I needed to wrap things up with Tori before I confessed.
“Come on.” He tugged my hand. “Let me help you carry all this back to the room. You know you can have a service take care of laundry, right?”
“I don’t pay other people to do my laundry for me,” I snapped at him, somehow seeming to imply that he was spoiled. Nice, Emma. He picked up my laundry basket.
“Good thing my help comes free of charge.” He smiled at me, still nice even with me crackling with bitchy electricity. It brought a tear to my eye. “Hey.” He pulled me to him and gave me another big hug. “Let’s head up to the hotel room. I don’t know what’s bothering you, but everything’s going to be all right.”
I nodded, wanting to feel completely reassured by his words. But until he had complete information about what was bothering me, it wasn’t going to happen.
CHAPTER 14
Chase
Something was up with Emma. I didn’t know what, but she was jumpy and tense. She clearly had something on her mind, but I didn’t know her well enough yet to understand what it was. Something could have happened at home or back at her workplace. She could have gotten some bad news. But when I asked her, she said it was nothing and she was fine.
In my experience with women, and granted I didn’t have too much successful experience, that was the equivalent of issuing a massive storm warning. Nothing signaled trouble like a woman brushing you off because everything was fine. Oh shit, buy out the canned goods, the storm of the century was about to hit.
But it also could be pre-Olympics jitters. She wasn’t about to compete, but everyone on and associated with the team was feeling it. It was our last day in Atlanta and everyone was acting loopy. Most of my teammates were off-the-walls, randomly high-fiving, fist-bumping and chest-thumping.
But not everyone was caught in the throes of emotional highs. That afternoon I’d found a teammate of mine sitting on the floor in a hallway sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. She was only 16 and it was her first time away from home. She was covered in snot and told me she wished she’d never started swimming. It was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. The games were going to be an epic disaster.
I sat with her a while, giving her my jacket to blow her nose into. I didn’t need it anyway. I told her a couple of funny stories about my first Olympics in Beijing back eight years ago. I’d gotten lost in the Olympic village every single time I’d set foot out of my condo. And when we’d circled the main arena in the majestic, celebratory opening ceremony? I’d tripped, and it had been caught on camera, gawky 18-year-old me barely managing to prevent a full-body, face-first sprawl across the ground.
That seemed to cheer her up. “I can’t believe that,” she shook her head, as if she clearly thought me above all mortal actions like getting lost or tripping. “I mean, you’re Chase Carter!”
“Well, you’re Lizzie Christopher.” I elbowed her, trying to get her to smile. “I’ve seen you in the pool. You’re going to kill it in Rio. I think you’re ready to be on a cereal box.”
“Really?” she asked, eyes wide, bloodshot and puffy.
“Absolutely.” She’d probably have to wash her face first. But, honestly, I knew a great competitor when I saw one and the kid was a natural. She just needed to work on handling all the stress, channeling it into adrenaline to fuel performance.
After all the talking, plus I had to head back up to my room to change my shirt, I was late for the team dinner down in a conference room. Everyone was at round tables, assigned seating, and I saw an empty space for me up near the front. Emma was next to her buddy in PR, Megan, toward the back of the room. We gave each other a brief nod, but I had to head up to my place. I knew coach was going to talk to all of us tonight, and he wanted me to say a few words as well. Public speaking was not my thing, but I’d do it. I understood the team saw me as a leader, and I needed to step into that role.
Making toast after toast, everyone was amped up. It was really happening! We were heading to the Olympics! A microphone got passed around and most of the coaches plus half my teammates grabbed it, talking about how they couldn’t believe it, after all those years of hard work, all the plans and hopes and dreams were all now ours to reach out and grab.
Once we’d finished dessert, our head coach stood up and called all of our attention. I figured he was going to give us his standard motivational speech, reminding us how we needed to keep our heads down and push it. But, instead, he told us a story that had all of us wiping our eyes and clearing our throats.
Coach talked to us about a kid in California who’d spent his childhood in and out of the hospital with a rare genetic blood disease. While most kids had been out running around, invited to birthday parties and playing sports, he’d spent his days in isolation, wracked with pain, his growth severely stunted. He hadn’t felt much like living until his mom had heard about something called the Special Olympics. She’d called up the organizer, gotten him in the pool and there he’d found his reason to live, with teammates, experiencing the joy of moving through the water, and a remarkable freedom from pain when he got caught up in the excitement of swimming.
“That’s what the games are all about,” he told us, barely a dry eye in the room. “The Olympics are a celebration of the human spirit. There’s a lot of focus on medals and podiums. But I’ll tell you what it’s about. The games are about hope. They’re about challenging yourself to do the impossible. The games are about being the best you can be.”
Damn, did he know how to make us feel pumped up. I felt it, deep in my bones. I’d trained my whole life for this moment and I was ready.
After coach spoke, he looked over at me. I nodded, understanding what he wanted. I stood up and took the mic.
“I want you all to know,” I said from the front of the room, all eyes on me. “I’m proud to be your teammate.” I took a moment to look around, seeing the faces I’d grown so accustomed to every day, every morning, noon and night as we trained. “I look around this room and I see some of the hardest working people I’ve ever met.”
Lizzie, looking a lot happier than I’d seen her in the hallway, started the applause and I gave it a moment before it died down. I
pointed to the shirt I now wore, our USA team jersey. “It’s a pretty amazing opportunity to head to the games wearing these colors. It’s a privilege. Let’s do it right. Let’s show Rio our best. Respect the other athletes. And bring it. Let’s go represent!”
Everyone jumped to their feet, clapping and cheering wildly. There were hugs and tears and all sorts of emotions as we all wished each other well. Our head coach, the toughest ex-military son of a gun I’d ever known, came over and gave me a bear hug.
“That’s my boy.” He ruffled my hair, though I had a good four inches of height on him. He’d been like a father to me over the past few years, pushing and demanding but always with the understanding he did it because he believed in me. Now it was time to make it happen.
By the time the room started to clear out and I was able to disengage myself from conversation, Emma had gone. Without coming over to talk. Something was up with her. I was going to find out what it was. I didn’t do this whole avoid and deny thing. When I saw an issue that needed to be addressed, I went for it.
I took the stairs. Elevators could wait for when I had more patience. She answered her door after the first knock, likely expecting my arrival.
“Hey. That was a great speech you made.” She looked shy and slightly nervous, stepping to the side and looking down at the carpet.
“Thanks. We need to talk.” The four most dreaded words in the English language. Her attention snapped right up. Yeah, I didn’t like it, either. There were many things I’d enjoy doing more that could still involve our mouths and occasional words like “yes” and “more.” But we had some less fun stuff to get out of the way first.
“Is everything OK?” She sounded anxious.
“I don’t think so.” I took her hand and led her over to the couch. At least we could sit together while we talked, preferably with her on my lap. I loved the feel of her ass against me, so round and tight but soft, too. I pulled her onto me and she settled in like we were made for each other. But she still held her body tense and rigid.
In Deep: Chase & Emma (All In Book 1) Page 14