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Somehow my t-shirt disappeared right along with Chase’s and seconds later we tumbled to the sofa. We kissed for what felt like an eternity, as if we both knew this was, it and that we needed to make the most of every second. Our tongues danced and sometimes our teeth clanked, all while our hands roamed every curve and every valley, touching and memorizing every inch of each other’s body.
It was a heady experience, this kind of frantic, all-consuming feeling that coursed through my veins. I wanted him in a way I’d never wanted anyone, and I poured myself into every stroke of his hips, every nip of teeth over my sensitized skin. We came together hard and fast, and so quickly it made my head spin.
One minute my tongue flicked over his nipple and the next my body is clamped tight around his, pulsing with pleasure. “Chase.” His name fell from my lips, a plea, a song, a moan and maybe even a whine. That was it.
No, this was it.
We were done.
Chase relaxed on top of me, and I didn’t mind taking his weight, not with the plush sofa beneath my back. Breaths sawed from his lips until they eventually evened out and he pushed up to look down at me, his green eyes asking so many questions.
“We’re so good together.”
We were good together. Surprisingly good given the age difference and the fact that we hadn’t spent any significant time together like this throughout our lives. But that’s not what Chase meant. He was talking about sex. We were very sexually compatible. Highly sexually compatible compared to past lovers. But sex was the easy part. It was the part that came naturally and required little to no effort. That’s what Chase meant. “Right?” His brows dipped in confusion, and then worry.
“Of course,” I rushed to assure him because there was nothing wrong with the sex. It was fantastic, mind-blowing. It was exactly what sex should always be like for everyone. “It’s always great between us.”
“But?”
“No buts,” I told him, making sure to keep my tone light and carefree. “Did I seem as if I didn’t enjoy it?”
“Well no,” he answered quickly and sat up, finally rolling away from me. The cool air hit my skin, and it was exactly the dose of reality I needed, so jumped to my feet before he could wrap me in his arms and whisper soft words in my ear.
“But something’s wrong.”
“Nothing is wrong Chase. I am giving you exactly what you asked for, a casual and secret encounter. My car is parked right out front and if I stay any later people will start to gossip, and I know you don’t want that.” Instead of facing his gaze head on, I scanned the living room in search of my jeans and wasted lavender lingerie, and I practically ran to retrieve them from a lampshade.
“Carlotta.”
I closed my eyes at the anguish in his voice, against the emotions that one word made me feel. This sucked, I knew it and he did too, but this was our problem as women, we were too damn sympathetic when we didn’t need to be. I refused to give in, no matter how sad or tortured he sounded, no matter how much this hurt. It’ll hurt more if you let this go on. “Carlotta.”
I spotted my sweater under the coffee table and yanked it over my head before I gathered my courage to look at Chase. “Yes?”
“Is this really it?”
I gave him a short nod. “This is what you said you wanted Chase. It’s not what I want, but I’m happy to enjoy a few orgasms while I wait for Mr. Right.” I stepped into my favorite black stilettos and grabbed my purse from the hook behind the front door. “I’ll see you soon Chase. Good night.” I opened the door and stepped out before either of us could say anything else, before Chase could use the power of his touch to reel me back inside.
No, it was better this way. Now that I knew what this was—and more importantly what it wasn’t—I could adjust my expectations. And my actions.
From this moment forward there would only be two things between Chase and I, the wedding and really hot sex.
Chapter 18
Chase
I’ll meet you at Wheels 4 Rent at four o’clock.
Carlotta’s message chimed on my phone, as straightforward and clinical as possible. For the past week that’s how things were between us. Cordial, some might even say civil.
I hated it.
I absolutely fucking hated it.
What was that saying about being careful what you wish for, because you might get it? I had an unbelievably bad case of that lately. For the past week Carlotta has been nothing but cordial and professional when we met up to plan Pippa’s wedding. When she came to my house—not hers, not anymore—she showed up looking beautiful, sexy enough that I couldn’t wait to get her naked and beneath me, but she wasn’t present. Not really. Not the way she had been before.
Before. It was such a strange word. So small, but now everything between us was split in my mind as before and after. The after version of Carlotta was an expert at compartmentalizing her emotions. She showed up and we had sex a few times, and she was gone before I could reach out to pull her body against mine and nibble the crook of her neck. That never failed to get her hot and bothered all over again.
It was a damn shame. I’d broken something that I hadn’t realized was so special to me until it was too late. But I was determined to get it back on track.
