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And then, he’s on his knees. Doing exactly that. His fingers reach up, squeezing my breast and a hard sensitive nipple, pulling on it at the same time his mouth covers my mound and his tongue strokes my clit wildly.
It’s an intense pleasure.
Hell, I can come just from the sight of us like this. Naked, wet, my body at his mercy. His at mine.
Before long, I’m quivering, writhing against the tile wall. I scream a long, languid scream as I feel the pleasure start to coil through my veins.
“Yes. God. Yes.”
He doesn’t stop. He sucks hard, pulling my bud between his lips until I’m gripping his shoulders to stand upright.
I scream and come hard again. Harder and sexier than I’ve ever come…before I fall into his arms, sated.
He catches and holds me, then chuckles as he kisses my temple. “That’s my girl.” He lifts me and rinses me under the warm spray before shutting the water off. “Come on, let’s feed you.”
Chase keeps the lights low when he moves to the counter and holds up the bottle of red for me. I nod, eagerly.
With a wink, he pulls two glasses from the cabinet. They don’t match, but Elliot wasn’t the type to pay attention to things like that, I’ve noticed.
He pours and passes one to me, watching as I take a long sip. “Can I ask you a question? About it?”
I nod, ready to tell him anything.
“You ever go back there before?”
I shake my head. “Only in my dreams,” I say with some humor.
He watches me, waiting for more on these…dreams. I don’t like calling them nightmares.
I release a silent breath. “That’s where I go when I space out. It’s where my dreams take me. But they’re not often. They’re triggered. Maybe three…four times a year.”
“By what?”
“Fear, loneliness, a birthday. I feel like it can be anything.”
“Are they…always the same?” His eyes dip with a memory, and I wonder if he’s thinking of Elliot. And the same dream he always has.
“They’re not very clear. Or long. It’s the same place. But the people…they’re always different. I don’t know who they were, but they keep changing. And it’s never my parents.”
We’re both silent for a moment and his tone shifts.
“When your parents were leaving, did they say anything to you out of the ordinary? Did there seem to be a…longer goodbye?”
I shake my head. “I play back their farewell often. It was quick—quicker than usual. Especially Dad. But he also had a hard time looking me in the eye much after…”
His eyes shift and there’s another question. “Were there…secret conversations? Whispering? Anything suspicious or odd in the days before?”
I choke out a laugh. “You sound like the detective questioning me the days that followed the accident.”
He sighs in disappointment. But not at me. “I’m sorry.” He comes around the table and closes the distance. “It’s probably not a good time, anyway.” He glances back at the table. “Why don’t we have some food.”
He sets our plates on the counter wordlessly, then pulls a stool out for me, pushing my wine glass toward me. Once our spread is complete, he sits across from me. “Okay, we’ve got pastrami, roasted potatoes, chicken, grilled veggies, some sort of mango salad. And for later, blueberry pie.”
I bite my lip and scrunch my nose. “I might have a little bit of everything.”
He chuckles then looks like he might say something but holds back.
“What?” I poke.
