Chapter 43

"Here." She was back, holding out a glass of water and punching out two tablets from a blister pack. "Take these, um, for the headache."

"Only if you do."

Amaya punched out two for herself, and they shared the glass of water. Funny that he noticed a little thing like that—funny that to Chase it mattered that she didn’t go and get another glass.

"We’ll feel better in twenty minutes." Amaya smiled, glad that they seemed to be talking normally again after the strain of the past few weeks. "It says so on the box."

She zipped his suit holder and picked up the phone to summon his driver as Chase downed a quick shot of espresso from his coffee machine. He stuffed files and papers into his briefcase as he gave her a few last-minute instructions that would take about a couple of hours to execute.

"Any problems, ring me. It doesn’t matter what time it is there—things have to be in place for tomorrow."

"Sure!" He watched her bristle slightly, and inside Chase smiled.

"And tell Tommy, I'll win over the card I lose when I come back."

He made her laugh, but her little flare of jealousy was acknowledged and out there now—and she didn’t know how to handle him or this energy that swirled between them. His dangerous flirty attitude still dangled in the air, and right there at that moment, she wanted to reach out and grab it.

Maybe she could fake it, Amaya thought wildly; maybe she could pretend that she wasn’t scared. Maybe her body would just know what to do.

The driver buzzed, and he picked up his briefcase. "Don’t bother going back to the office,stay with your son," he said. "If you need to do something, do it from here and then finish up for the day." He frowned at her pale face. "Actually, have tomorrow off."

"I’ve got a full schedule tomorrow, Chase, and Thursday is my official day off."

"Cancel it—my orders." Chase shrugged. "Have a day off and sort out whatever "nothing" is, or, failing that, catch up on some sleep. I’ll see you on Monday."

And as always, he left as easily as he left a hotel room—just turned and walked out of the door without a second thought.

As he handed his driver his bag, Amaya’s voice reached him. "Have a safe trip."

He looked back over his shoulder and saw a throwaway comment, a rushed farewell, on the tip of his tongue, and in that moment he glimpsed it.

Leaving.

How it could feel to leave home.

"See you Monday." His voice was gruff, and Amaya stood there as he closed the door behind him.

Now that he was gone, she breathed.

She wanted to tell him.

For the first time ever, she actually wanted to confide in someone—to tell him what ‘nothing’ meant. To share, to reveal, not that he might fix it, because she knew no one could do that, not so he might wave a magic wand and make her father suddenly better, or nurse the anger at her father’s past treatment of her disappear. It was none of that. No, standing in that bedroom, seeing him lying on the bed, those dark blue eyes concerned, all she had wanted was to do exactly what Chase had said.

Fare force.

To escape for a little while, to lie down beside him in a dark room and let the world carry right on without her for a little while.

As the door flung open again, she stood to attention and almost snapped the smile back on her face as Chase hurried in and strode across the lounge towards her. He must have forgotten his passport, phone, or...

And then it happened.

What she had been secretly thinking about from the very first time she had seen him again.

What she had desperately been trying to avoid and ignore.

That bubbling, simmering tension between them was finally acknowledged.

His arms pulled her in, and his mouth was pressing on hers.

Wrapping her in his embrace and crushing her with his mouth.

And it should have been unexpected, should have caused shock and anger, except it was just pure relief.

Sheer, sheer relief to be kissed and to kiss back.

His tongue was cool, and he tasted mint, man, and coffee and escaped—and Amaya didn’t at that point question it. All she did was feel it. The bliss of firm lips and the scent that had always made itself known captivated her as they intensified in their close proximity.

His body to touch was everything her eyes had promised—lean and powerful beneath her hands and against her own body.

His eyes were closed, she had to look, had to see him, and it made her want this moment more because he was as lost in it as she was. He moved from her mouth, his moist lips lingering on her cheeks, his hands on the small of her back pushing her hips into his, and then it was her ear he was kissing. Instead of moving her head away with his kiss, she leaned towards him, curved into his touch, weaker in her body as Chase’s mouth met her throat and thoroughly kissed it too—her neck was arching and his hands had moved, both now on the peach of her buttocks and pressing her heat into him. Then his mouth found hers again, and she tasted his ragged breath—and it was just like the first time she’d ever seen him, because the world was black again, everything diminished, and nothing else mattered, just his kiss and his body. And who cared where it might lead or the damage it might do, because for the first time ever, she wasn’t thinking, fixing, solving, or surviving—she was living, just alive and alert, but only for this, for him, for them.

And then the intercom buzzed—the driver warned him they would be late.

"That," Amaya said in a shaky voice as he pulled back from her, "didn’t just happen." She put her fingers up to her lips and could feel them swollen and tasting of him, and what had been simple and natural a moment ago was suddenly very confusing.

And then he kissed her again.

"Or that," Chase said, and he stared into her lovely, clear eyes and saw the whir of confusion. She was wholly adorable, and for a second, he felt regret.

Real, wretched regret, because soon he’d have to get used to missing her.

But it was too late for regret because he’d pulled the pin now and the countdown to the inevitable end had started.

As the driver’s voice on the intercom filled the room, warning he was on his way up, he gave Amaya a quick, frantic look that made her giggle. "Don’t tell him!"

"God, no." Amaya swallowed. "Just go." She was more than confused now, trying to assert herself, wishing she could turn back the clock, but Chase was upping the ante now.

"Think about that night." He was still holding her, his kiss this steam that wouldn’t evaporate. She felt as if she’d been running; she could feel her hammering heartbeat and the dampness between her legs. His knowing eyes were on hers, his hands on her hips, and he pulled her a little way in towards him once more, giving her just another small, decadent feel of what was waiting there for her if only she could reach out and take it.

"What are you so scared of?" Chase asked, and after just a moment’s thought, she gave him a very honest answer.

"Losing." She stared back at him, and it wasn’t just the job or the jet-set lifestyle she was scared of losing, but him. "Let’s just forget that happened."

Futile words—and they both knew it.