by Harper James
"Addison," he says again. I remember how I used to love the way my name sounded when he said it.
“Don’t,” I say, my voice shaking. “Don’t come here and act like everything’s okay. Don’t—”
“I know everything isn’t okay,” Chase replies. His eyes are steady, sure. “I’m here to make it okay.”
I feel my heart leap, but I don’t let myself smile. I won’t fall for this. I’ve been too hurt, too disappointed…I can’t possibly let him back into my life again. If that’s even what he’s hinting at. Maybe he just wants closure?
I shrug. “Well, I don’t think this is really the time or place. And I don’t see how you can just make it okay.”
Chase runs a hand through his hair, and for the first time, I can see the strain in his eyes.
Is Chase Brooks actually nervous right now? “Addison, I failed you. I failed myself. And I’ll never be able to change that fact.” He takes a deep breath, and then lets it out. When his eyes meet mine again, I feel the shock of it.
He loves me.
I can see it right there, plain as day. It’s there. I’ve seen hints of it before, I’ve suspected it, I’ve wanted to believe—but now I really can see it written all over his face.
But I’m not sure it’s enough. “So much has happened,” I tell him, my throat constricting. Part of me wants to run to him, but another part of me is terrified that I’d be making a mistake, opening myself up to more pain than I can bear. “I’ve only just started putting the pieces back together.”
“Without you, I’m a broken man, Addison,” he says. “I’ll never be whole without you in my life.” His voice is husky and I can see that his eyes aren’t completely dry. “I understand that you can’t just trust me again, but I had to find you. I had to make sure that I tell you the truth. Tell you…everything.”
“And what is the truth?” I ask, my heart hammering against my ribcage.
“I love you, Addison. That’s the truth.” His eyes don’t waver. His lips curl into a smile, and he shakes his head. “And I’m a fool because I was too scared to admit it until now. I hope you’ll forgive me?”
The way his voice tilts up, questioning, truly vulnerable, breaks me.
His face.
His eyes.
Those bright blue eyes.
He's looking at me so earnestly, like he's almost begging with those eyes. I've never, ever, seen Chase look like this.
He holds out his hand, not taking his eyes off mine.
I look down at my sweet tea, brushing back tears. Everything I've been through. I remember every single horrific second of it. And I also remember every single amazing second of being with Chase.
I push my chair back. I reach out and clasp Chase's hand.
And I don't let go.
***
We hop into a cab and Chase has his arm around me, holding me close to him as the vehicle speeds and swerves through the Manhattan traffic.
“I can’t believe I just walked out of my first publishing lunch,” I say, shaking my head.
“There will be plenty more lunches,” Chase says, brushing his fingers softly through my hair, giving me chills up and down my spine. I snuggle closer to him, inhaling the familiar scent of him, his cologne, his strong body like a balm to my wounded and raw soul.
In truth, both Greg and Amaya seemed happy to cut the lunch short and agreed that we should meet again in the next day or two. And why wouldn’t they be happy? The story of Chase and I getting back together was only going to help my book sales.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I tell him, after a long moment of quiet. “How did you know where I’d be?”
Chase turns and looks down at me. “I bribed Gregory’s assistant to tell me where he was having lunch.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did.” He grins, and then turns serious. “I want you to know, Addison, I’m not…I know this is a lot. I’ll give you all the time you need.”
“I don’t need that much time,” I say, butterflies colliding in my belly as our eyes lock.
“Good,” he says, and then his lips are on mine, and I feel all the fear and tension draining from my body.
For the first time in as long as I can remember, it feels right.
His tongue slides into my mouth and I sigh.
Chase pulls back and looks at me. “You have no fucking idea how badly I missed you,” he says, his voice husky. “It was excruciating.” He kisses me again, this time the intent behind the kiss clear.
My nipples stiffen under the dress I’m wearing.
Thankfully, we don’t have to wait too long, because the cab pulls up outside a gorgeous building and then we’re getting out, Chase is greeting the doorman, and then we’re headed up to an insane penthouse apartment.
Chase’s apartment has a view that must cost in the millions, and of course the décor is modern, the space open and gorgeous.
But I don’t give a shit about any of that right now, because as soon as we are alone in his apartment, I just want to be close to him.
He looks at me, his blue eyes searching, making sure I’m okay.
“I want to,” I whisper.
Chase stares at me and nods his head. “Come on, then.” He takes me by the hand and leads me into his bedroom.
We’re kissing again, more fully and passionately now, and his hands are roaming up and down my body, like he can’t get enough of me.
I press into him, feeling his hardness pushing back at me. My hands slides down and grips his cock through the fabric of his slacks, and he groans.
“Shit,” he says. He suddenly picks me up and then carries me to the bed, where he lays me down. He looks at me, his eyes hungry. “I’m going to fuck you so deep, and I’m not going to stop until we come together.”
I close my eyes, letting the dirty words wash over me, letting everything go, losing myself in him.
And then he’s slowly undressing me, taking his time, kissing my bare skin all over. My lips, my neck, collarbone, the curve of my breasts, and then my nipples as my bra falls away. He sucks my nipples delicately, and I cry out, as my hands find his chest and grip his toned, muscular pecs.
I start unbuttoning his shirt frantically. I need to feel his skin, his body against mine.
It’s like I’m dying of thirst and he’s my water, my salvation as I crawl through the desert.
And that’s when I realize just how badly I’ve missed Chase Brooks, and I smile through tears.
He stops, looking at me with concern. “What’s wrong?” he asks, pushing my hair back from my face.
I shake my head, smiling still. “I’m just happy,” I tell him. “I’m just happy you’re here.”
He caresses my cheek, his eyes kind and soft.
“I love you, Addison.”
The words send shockwaves through me, the emotion behind them true and real. “I love you, Chase,” I say, and I’m wrapping my legs around him, ready to beg. He’s taught me well.
“Have patience,” he says, smirking a little, but I know neither of us can stand the waiting anymore.
His muscular, hard body is soon poised over mine, and he positions his long, thick cock against my entrance. I’m slick with need, with lust.
And then he pushes inside of me.
“Ahh,” I sigh breathily as he forces himself deep into my pussy, my walls closing in around him.
“Shit, you’re wet for me, baby.”
I close my eyes, gripping him to me and wrapping myself around him, feeling his heart pound against mine.
He slides out, and then pushes through my folds again, his pelvis pushing and grinding into mine, hip to hip now.
His eyes close.
It’s pure ecstasy, and we’re both feeling it. Like our bodies are meant to be this way, to be together, intertwined always.
Soon, Chase is fucking me, slowly and rhythmically, and I’m moving in time with him. His hips are swiveling, his long cock sliding in and out of my swollen pussy, an
d we’re both slick with sweat.
He kisses me, his tongue slides into my mouth and his hands slide up and grip mine, pressing my hands up over my head.
Now he’s fucking me faster and harder, and my breath comes quicker.
“Chase—”
“I’m going to come soon,” he says into my mouth.
“I’m going to come, too,” I breathe.
And soon he’s roaring, his hips are slamming against me and he’s fucking me exquisitely deep, penetrating to my core.
When my orgasm hits, I feel my eyes roll back in my head and a wave of love and pulsing pleasure shoots through my center and all the way up my spine.
Chase is shooting everything into me, the cords of his muscles standing out in his shoulders and neck as he arches into me, forcing himself deeper than he’s ever been before.
Afterwards, we collapse into each other, sweaty, laughing, our limbs loose and our voices soft.
We talk about now.
We talk about the future.
We even talk about the past.
“You know, I intentionally leaked my book to the media,” Chase says, at one point in the conversation. Like it’s no big deal.
I stare at him, my eyes wide. “You leaked your own book? Why?”
Chase chuckles. “Because I knew it would get the press off of your back, and honestly, protecting you meant more to me than some stupid fucking book.”
“Chase,” I whisper, my eyes tearing up again, knowing he was always thinking of me, even when we were apart. I feel his love radiating through me.
“It’s always going to be you, Addison,” he says, and then he wraps me closer in his arms and kisses me.
And I know it’s true.
EPILOGUE
ADDISON
"Oh my God!"
Kensie comes barreling towards me, clad in a hot pink dress that shows her strong swimmer's shoulders.
"You look unreal!" I exclaim, throwing my arms around her.
"You look unreal," she says. She fingers the edge of my new dress-- peacock blue, my absolute favorite. And Chase's favorite on me.
"Thank you so much for coming," I say.
"I wouldn't miss this." Kensie lets her eyes roam around the lavish apartment, with the table of my books on display just outside the foyer. "I know I keep saying it, but congrats. I'm so proud of you."
It means everything to me that Kensie flew all the way here for my book release party. I link arms with her and introduce her to Amaya and Greg. "Are you the one who told her to say 'Who dis?' when unrecognized numbers called?" Greg asks, and Kensie admits she might have had something to do with it.
I survey my party. Chase's spacious apartment-- our apartment, I'm still getting used to saying-- is one of my favorite places in all of New York. I catch his eye across the room, where he's chatting with some publishing people, and he winks at me. My parents are on the other side of the room. Once I stuck up for myself and they realized I wasn’t going to get off this writing thing, they came around. I think my dad would still prefer me to get my MBA, but my book deal and impending movie deal did a lot to help with that.
"When does the movie start filming?" Kensie asks me as we make the rounds.
"December." I am still in shock that's happening. "Some of it will be shot here, and a lot will be shot in Vancouver, if you feel like a little Canadian vacation."
"You know I do," she says.
Chase breaks away from his group and comes over to us. "So glad you could come," he tells Kensie, giving her a hug.
Rex glances at us, does a double take when he sees Kensie, and practically catapults himself over here. "Remember me?" he asks her. "We met for five minutes at a taco bar."
Kensie and Rex begin chattering away and I’m beaming, watching them.
"Nice party," Chase says to me while our two best friends talk.
"Nice party," I say back. "Getting a lot of questions?"
"I don't mind," he says. "I'm excited about things. A new series isn't something I contemplated before, but I think this is going to be good. You have no idea how relieved I am to be able to write without worrying about living up to the craziness of my old career."
"Oh? Not going to be fighting me for the spotlight?" I ask, giggling.
"No way." He slides his arm around my waist. "I'm more than content to let you have that for awhile."
Rex takes champagne flutes from a waiter and gives one to Kensie, who beams at me. "Are we doing a toast before the actual toast?"
Chase takes two flutes himself and hands one to me. "I think the toast will be just fine without a pre-toast. I think we should just slam these motherfuckers like we did in college."
He downs his champagne. Rex and Kensie do the same.
"You lose," Rex says, pointing to my still-full flute.
"I've never seen you not immediately drink champagne," Chase says.
Kensie's watching me with a funny look on her face.
"You don't want it?" Chase asks. "It's good, I promise."
"It's not that." I smile at Kensie, and put my hand in my new husband's. "It’s just that I'm not supposed to drink while I'm pregnant."
Chase’s eyes comically widen, and then he’s got me in his arms and he’s hugging me tightly and spinning me. He kisses me, and then he’s looking down at my belly in awe.
I laugh. “You can’t see anything yet,” I tell him, feeling my face flush.
“Are we sure?” he asks, his voice husky with emotion.
“Yeah,” I nod. “I’ve taken three tests just to make sure.”
Chase’s expression lights up as he grins, the most relaxed, positive smile I’ve maybe ever seen on his face. But then again, we’ve both been smiling a lot these past months.
There’s been a lot to smile about.
“A baby,” he whispers, and I can hear the emotion in his voice. “A baby.”
“Our baby,” I say. He grips my hand in his and doesn’t let go.
Neither do I.
And I know now that neither of us ever will.
THE END
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Or turn the page for an excerpt of DEVIL IN A SUIT by Ivy Carter!
Devil In A Suit (Book One)
Ivy Carter
Chapter 1
Everyone wants to fuck Jared King.
It’s all I’ve heard about for the three weeks I’ve worked at King Advertising.
My co-workers talking about how they want to sink to their knees beneath his desk, be pressed up against the back wall of the elevator, or frisked against the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. There was even a particularly dirty conversation involving what they imagine he might do to them with his expensive silk ties.
That one made me blush so bad I had to run to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face.
Not that I blame them. Jared King is probably the sexiest man on the East Coast, and a billionaire to boot. He’s dark and broody, with smoldering brown eyes and broad shoulders.
But as I’ve also learned while covering for his assistant, Jared King is cold and calculating, a complete and total jerk.
Every day from noon until 1pm (when Alec is at lunch) I answer phones, take messages, and pray that Mr. King doesn’t return from lunch before Alec can relieve me.
“Jared King’s office,” I say now, only half-achieving the smooth-as-butter professional phone voice that I’ve been practicing since I started at King Advertising. Of course, I was hoping to use that voice with my own clients or in pitch meetings, not answering the CEO’s phone. But as the lowest level copywriter, I’ve been tasked to take all the jobs no one else wants, and that includes covering Jared King’s assistant’s desk when he’s out of the office.
I doubt even the women
who want Mr. King to ride them like show ponies would want this assignment. But as a newly minted business school graduate with only two suits to my name, I can’t be choosy.
I can’t just take opportunities, I have to make them.
Of course, I didn’t account for the fact that Jared King would barely look at me, much less speak to me.
I’ve been here three weeks and the only word he’s said to me so far has been, “Messages?” And not in a friendly tone that said he was grateful for my service. More in a cold, distant tone, somewhat irritated tone that implied that he wished he could just train a Labrador to do my job and be done with me entirely.
Every day I’d hand him the printout of names and phone numbers I’d taken down during the last hour, and then, without ever pausing to even look me in the eye, he’d disappear behind his office door.
Which he’d then slam shut. Hard.
Thinking about my oh-so-brief and not very friendly encounters with the elusive billionaire makes me shiver as I come back to the present. As much as I’m intrigued by Jared King, I can’t wait for the lunch hour to end, so I can scurry back to my typical role, tucked safely away from any possible interaction with this intimidating person.
“Jared King’s office,” I repeat into the receiver. There’s a low, crackling buzz underlying the connection that spikes every few seconds, completely obscuring the words of the person on the other end of the phone. “I’m sorry, Mr. King is away from his desk at the moment. Can I take a message?”
I can’t tell if the sound coming through the phone is more static or an epic sigh. “Tell him … Rochester … version two … needs approval account immediately … version one … Dubai … 417-620.”
It takes me a beat to realize that he is attempting to tell me a phone number, so I quickly scribble down the numbers I can make out.
“I’m sorry sir, your phone is cutting out, can you please repeat that?” I ask, gripping the pen so hard my knuckles turn white.
“Flight to Dubai … unreachable for the next 12 hours … 176 … 32…”
I’m frantically trying to piece together the numbers. Was the 176 part of the 417-620? And did he mention a name even?