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I’d never been so afraid to be alone with Chase.
Not that I was afraid ofhim. Just afraid of his words.
Terrified of the way the smallest actions and looks seemed to slay me when they used to warm every part of my soul and light a fire inside me.
With a stuttered breath, I locked the door and turned to make my way through the house, leaving my coffee in the kitchen as I did. Worry and trepidation growing thicker the further I made it until I finally found him.
Standing in our bedroom.
Staring at the large photo of us that hung over our bed.
One I’d always loved and suddenly felt unsure of because it was beautiful and raw and utterlyus, and he had the power to ruin it.
We’d just gotten the keys to this house and had rushed over with a few boxes, beyond excited to just stand in the home because it wasours. And after unceremoniously dropping the boxes in the entryway, Chase had carried me back to this room as we’d torn at each other’s clothes.
The middle of the floor of this room would always be my favorite spot in the house because we’d spent hours there.
Loving each other. Laughing. Planning our future in this house.
And then he’d told me to stay.
“Stay?” I’d asked as he’d scrambled into his boxer briefs.
He’d dropped to the floor again, caging me in with his hands on either side of my head, and had captured my mouth for a slow, searing kiss. “Right here. Stay.”
A contented hum had sounded in my throat. “Not going anywhere.”
I’d watched as he’d jogged out of the room, listening as his steps echoed through the empty house. And seconds later, he’d been back with my purse.
“What—”
“Just wait,” he’d begged as he’d rummaged around, a smirk pulling at his mouth when he’d produced a pen and let my bag fall to the floor.
And then he’d been there with me. Pressing teasing kisses and bites up my thigh and hip as he’d rolled me onto my side.
“Stay,” he’d repeated, grabbing my butt teasingly as he’d removed the cap from the pen and held it just over my skin. Going back and forth as though he’d been trying to figure out where to begin.
“What are you doing?” I’d asked when the pen had continued moving without ever touching my skin.
He’d hushed me. Those blue eyes flashing to meet mine for the briefest moment, all affection and excitement before he’d focused on my hip again. “Giving you something,” he’d muttered as the pen’s tip had finally touched down.
The photo above our bed had been taken about an hour later, after he’d drawn my lilies on me—a couple days before tattooing them in the same place—and had claimed my body all over again.
It was wholly indecent, considering we were clearly naked, even though nothing was showing because of the angle, and Chase’s tattooed forearm was mostly covering my breasts, but it was my favorite.
Our obvious adoration and excitement. The way I’d caught the beginning of his smirk as he’d been trailing his nose along my jaw.
I loved it.
“There a guestroom here?” Chase asked, turning to look at me.
My stomach clenched when I noticed the muscle ticking in his jaw and frustration dripping from him.
Just as I began nodding, he started walking toward me—toward the door. “Then I’m staying in there.”
“Chase—”
“What did you expect?” he ground out just as he’d passed me. “That I’d miraculously remember everything the second I set foot in this house? Or that I’d pretend with you because I’m supposed to be going through my day-to-day life to hopefully get those lost memories?”
