Chapter 48

Amaya had never been more ready for something in her life.

He was staring down at her with surprising tenderness in his eyes—a gentleness that she had never seen. And she felt as if they were starting something, as if they were going somewhere together. It wasn’t just her body she had never trusted to another, but her mind too—and in that moment she let him in, she could feel the first slow, shallow thrusts, the stretch of her body as it tried to accommodate him, and the barrier of resistance, and she told herself over and over that she had to remember not to love him.

It hurt, this searing, this moment, and then it was gone—and whatever it was she had just lost, she had found so much more.

The feel of him inside her, the wonders of her own body, rising to greet him as he entered and then resisting each withdrawal—her hips moving to meet his. There was this pull in her stomach and little licks of heat in her thighs. She couldn’t keep her eyes open, she was lost in the dark with him, and she felt as if she’d been found.

He was moving harder now, and yet she could feel him hold back, but he didn’t need to now. Her fingers ran down the length of his back, holding his buttocks and pressing him into her, and Chase had never been closer to anyone, had never been closer to himself, than he was at this moment. She was crying, and he was kissing her, demanding, seeking, and taking her all. He licked her tears and felt the coil of her legs tighten around him as she gave her urgent consent. He drove in, feeling her in a way he had never felt a woman—the delicious slippery grip of her, the first flickers of her orgasm beating like the first heavy raindrops of a gathering storm. He could feel her mouth on his chest, muffling the pleasure she felt, and he felt her moans vibrate through his heart. Suddenly she was climaxing, and so could he, spilling inside her as she swelled in rhythmic spasms tighter and tighter, dragging him deeper inside her.

He wanted them in this place for ever, could feel his body winding down from the giddy rush and hear his own ragged breathing that heralded the end. Then he did something else he never had before—sated, replete, and utterly spent, he looked down at where she lay beneath him and he lowered his head and kissed her.

Amaya didn’t know how she felt when she awoke alone in his bed early the next morning.

The house was already awake; she could hear several voices and the sound of activity as the day before the wedding dawned. In a little while, she would join them, would shower and go down and play the part of Chase’s girlfriend and help with the preparations in any way that she could, but not just yet.

Now she lay, naked under the sheet, her body tender from last night and her mind surprisingly calm—remembering from a calm distance almost, accepting now what she had always known.

That there could be no going back.

That having made love with Chase, the countdown to the end had started.

She had seen it so many times—Chase himself.

The thrill of the chase, the high on capture, the intense passion of a new relationship—and then, always then, the retreat

She knew this, had accepted this, and had factored it in coolly when she had delivered her demands, but there was one thing she hadn’t counted on. As he walked into the bedroom, carrying a laden tray and smiling into her eyes, there was an emotion almost like fear in the eyes that smiled back at him, because she had never anticipated the full effect of him—the dazzling beam of Chase when the full power of his smile, his mind, and his body were aimed in her direction.

He’d be hell to miss.

He was dressed in jeans and nothing else. Barefoot and bare-chested, he walked across the bedroom towards her, and it was a Chase she had never seen.

Usually suited, clean-shaven—even the times she had seen him dressed rather more casually, there had still been a formal air to him. But it was a different Chase in front of her now.

Unshaven, his damp hair flopped forward as he bent over her. Then he took the coffee pot from the tray and put it on the bedside table before placing a tray on her lap. He looked somehow younger, less austere perhaps, and for Amaya, terribly, dangerously, devastatingly beautiful.

"It is chaos out there." His thumb gestured to the bedroom door. "So we will hide in here for a couple of hours."

"Shouldn’t I be out there, helping?" Amaya asked, reaching for the pot of coffee, but Chase got there first.

"I’ll pour," Chase said, then answered her question. "No, as I just said to my sister, we would only get in the way."

Only she wasn’t really listening—instead, she stared at the cup he filled. It had been a seemingly innocuous gesture, yet for Amaya it was huge.

He’d brought her breakfast in bed.

Oh, she’d had staff knock on the door of her hotel room at six a.m. when she was travelling with Chase and brought her order, but never, not once in her life, had someone who wasn’t being paid prepared breakfast for her, brought it to her, and expected her to just sit as they poured. Always she got up; always it was her...

And this morning, it was him.

It was scary how nice it felt to be looked after, even in this small way.

"These are strawberry waffles…" He smeared one with honey and handed it to her—and then lay on his side, propped up on one arm, his coffee in the other hand, watching her intently, scanning her features for remorse.

"How are you?" he finally asked outright.

"Good, where’s Tommy?" Amaya said through a mouthful of waffles.

"My father and Tommy were in the pool. He loves the old guy. They've been playing."

"Are you sure it's okay with your father?"

"Yeah. I never saw him smiling like that, but Tommy got him alright."

"I've heard that Tommy looked like me when I was a kid." He raised a brow at her.

"Um—" Amaya sighed before sipping the coffee and ignored his intense glare.

"So, are you okay now? Panic attacks gone? Any regrets?" he asked instead.

"I'm fine," she said, shaking her head. "No regrets. You? "

"None—so long as you’re okay?" he pressed.

"I'm not that weak, you know."

Chase rolled his eyes. He took her coffee cup and her waffle away and straddled her on the bed.

"I know that, Amaya."

It was such a different Chase, as if she’d been looking at him through the wrong end of a telescope. His energy was lighter, funnier, and even sexier, if that were possible. They shared breakfast and then each other, and then they left the chaotic household and had a picnic on the beach.

This time she didn’t slip away when it was time to ring Mary, she just sat on the blanket and laughed and listened to her reminiscing, and it was so much easier with Chase lying there beside her.

And then he kissed her.

"Did she know about our—" Chase said, and he caught her eyes. "Yes, she knew about my father's situation as well. You’ve helped me—now I can help you. I absolutely insist on it."

And it was probably no big deal to him—except for Amaya, it was.

She felt the lightness as months of worry slipped away; she felt the elation as they ran down to the beach and enjoyed the late afternoon; she felt the joy of being a couple, having someone to lean on, helping each other out.

And then Amaya did a stupid thing.

As he kissed her in the salty sea, as she felt the waves rush around them and the chase of his tongue in her mouth, she started to wonder.

Started to hope and to wish.