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 didn’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.”
Chase is behind me, arms wrapping around my waist. I melt against him, eyes closing. I want to go back to the couch, but this time, instead of him being next to me, I want him on me. Kissing me. Touching me. Pushing inside me.
His lips brush the skin on my neck, and my body reacts. Goose bumps break out along my flesh, and heat bubbles in my stomach, spreading down between my legs. I twist in his arms and he kisses me. Hard. Desire explodes inside me and his lips against mine aren’t enough. I grab the hem of his shirt and yank it up. Chase raises his arms, letting the shirt slip off easily.
We melt into each other again. Chase gathers my hair in his hand and pulls it to the side, mouth going to my neck. He sucks and kisses, and a moan escapes my lips. My hands explore his back, feeling every pound of muscle beneath my fingers.
And then I feel something else. A little mound of scar tissue and I remember the mark I saw on his back this morning. I run my finger over it, distantly wondering what happened, but more focused on what’s currently happening.
Yearning.
Warmth.
A growing need to feel every single hard inch of this man.
We fall back onto the couch, with Chase on top of me. I widen my legs, welcoming him in between. Want swells inside of me, turning desperate with each kiss Chase gives. He sits up, tearing his mouth away from mine, and gathers my dress up around my waist. And then he stops.
“I see flashing lights,” he pants. “Through the trees.”
“Crap. The cops are almost here then.” I put my hands on his chest, admiring the tattoos. “I lost track of time.”
“Yeah, it did kind of slip away.”
He’s still on top of me. I’m still tracing the black lines of his tattoos, following the curves of a sun that’s inked onto his flesh. I slide my hands up and over his shoulders, bringing him back down to me. “We should go.”
“Yeah,” he whispers, putting his lips to mine. “We should.”
I’m lying down, but the world is spinning around me. I’ve never felt like this before. So damn attracted to someone. Hardly able to control myself. Desperate for more.
In the first time in over a year, I’m feeling something other than numbness and pain. I’m alive again, and living feels good.
Having more control than me, Chase gets up and picks his shirt up off the floor, turning it right-side out and putting it on. I smooth out my dress, fish my keys from my purse, and put my shoes on. We get into my car and speed down the gravel drive, coming to a stop just in time for the police to turn off the private road and onto my parents’ driveway.
Chase and I wait by the front door. The police car stops and I recognize Rob before he’s fully out of the car.
“Hey, Sierra,” he says, eyes going to Chase. Trying to suppress a smile, he gives me a small nod of approval and comes around the car. His partner, a younger man whose name escapes me, stands outside the car, looking at my parents’ house in awe. It is impressive when seeing it up close for the first time. I take the ostentatious curb appeal for granted. It’s just home to me.
“Did the security people talk to you?” I ask, turning to unlock the door.
“Yeah. They said a motion sensor picked up movement. Is it Marley again?”
“I think so.” I open the door and step in, sliding my hand up and down the wall to find the switch for the chandelier that hangs above us in the two-story foyer. “Come on in and have a look. None of the other motion sensors picked up anything, so it has to be Marley or someone’s been hiding in the sunroom for hours and finally decided to get up and stretch their legs.”
Rob laughs. “That sounds like the most likely cause.”
“I knew it.” I shut the door and take my shoes off out of habit. My mom would throw a fit seeing Rob and his partner walk into the foyer with their shoes on, but I’m not asking them to take them off. Chase, however, sees me take mine off and follows suit.
“Holy shit,” Rob’s partner mumbles, running his eyes up the sweeping staircase. I lead the way to the sunroom in the back of the house, turning on lights as I go.
“Marley?” I call, pausing in the threshold in the sunroom. His cage is open, and the extra clips my mom put on to keep him in, lay in pieces on the ground. “That bird is too smart for his own good.” I shake my head. “Well, we know who the culprit is. Unless the person who’s been hiding in here also took Marley with them. Which seems unlikely. So you guys can go.”
“You need help finding the bird?” Rob asks.
“Nah, he’ll turn up, but thanks.” I walk Rob and his partner out, closing the door behind them.
“How the hell are you going to find a bird in this big house?” Chase asks, eyeing the large foyer.
“Marley is an African Grey. He’s pretty big and if he’s not already in the kitchen trying to get into the pantry, I’ll make popcorn.”
“Popcorn?”
“He’s obsessed. But he can only have like one or two pieces at a time because it’s not good for him.”
We go back through the house and into the kitchen. Marley is sitting on the lip of the fruit bowl, working on an apple. He looks up when he sees us, ruffling his feather.
“Dead men. Dead men,” he squawks.
Chase looks at me, eyebrows pinched. “Did he just say what I think he said?”
“Yeah. I tried to teach him to say ‘dead men tell no tales’ from Pirates of the Caribbean but it was too long of a phrase. So now he just says ‘dead men’ when he sees me.”
Amused, Chase shakes his head. “That’s not creepy at all.”
I go to the counter, holding out my
arm. Marley takes another chunk out of the apple and lands on my arm, walking up to my shoulder. He rubs his beak—sticky with apple juice—on my face. I gently stroke his feathers and grab his half-eaten apple.
“Come on, mister,” I say and turn. “It’s bedtime.” I put Marley back in his cage, give him the apple, and shut the sunroom doors. “I can disable that sensor,” I tell Chase, pointing to the little detector on the ceiling. “So if he gets out again, he’ll be confined to this room and won’t set off the alarm again.”
“Good idea.”
“Thanks for coming with me.”
“Sierra, you can stop thanking me.”
“Okay.” I smile like I do when I’m nervous, becoming suddenly aware of every sensation in my body. We head out after I close up the house, and the whole time I’m mentally going over what I should say to Chase because I know he’s going to ask me if I want him to stay.
I do.
I miss having someone next to me. I miss waking up with strong arms wrapped around me. I like not being alone. Saying that out loud will come off lame. Pathetic maybe. Part of me nags away, demanding I just come out and say it.
We get into my car and I haven’t said a word.
I drive as slow as I can, trying to muster up the courage.
I say nothing.
The car comes to a stop in my driveway. I look at the time before I shut it off. It’s three twenty-one in the morning. Three. Two. One. I can do this. I close my eyes.
“I guess I’ll head out,” Chase says.
Three. Two. One.
I open my eyes, looking right at Chase. Moonlight dances across his handsome face, casting shadows on his stubble-covered jaw. I remember the texture of his scar under my finger, the way he felt pressed up against me.
Three…two…one. “Stay.”
His hazel eyes lighten. “Okay.”
He takes my hand as we walk to the front door, but he pauses before we go inside. Sure he’s going to tell me he changed his mind, that he’d rather go home and do anything else than sit around being bored with me, I yank my hand from his, closing off my heart before the hurt has a chance to hit.
“I like that most houses here have porches,” he says quietly. Thrown from him saying the last thing I expected, I open my mouth, gaping for a second before gaining back the ability to say coherent words. “The historic ones at least.”
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