Chapter 62

Chase stirred some time around midnight, his dreamless sleep disturbed by a puff of air somewhere in the vicinity of his earlobe.

His eyelids cranked open a fraction, half-heartedly investigating the source of air, only to snap open as he registered a luscious woman draped over his upper torso, her arm flung proprietorially across his chest, and a leg nudging the vicinity of his boxers.

Not just any woman.

Amaya.

His wife.

Whom he wanted to make love to something fierce.

Considering the chaste way they’d fallen asleep, he should gently slip out from under her and try not to wake her.

But his good intentions evaporated when she snuggled closer, her knee edging towards a fast-growing hard-on, and he froze, gritting his teeth to stop from groaning out loud.

He could play the gentleman, but where would the fun be in that? Amaya had always thought of him as the bad boy, and, while a small part of him had thought it was either right or wrong, it only hung around him because she was tempted to slum it for a while, and he’d liked the reputation.

He’d laughed, silently appalled at how reputations could be made or broken by hearsay. Considering he’d been working his ass off trying to make the company stay afloat at the time, he hadn’t much cared.

Another puff of air and another small moan in her sleep had him easing away before he did something she’d regret. Make no mistake, she’d been about to give him the ‘don’t think you can seduce me’ talk last night before he cut her off. As if he wouldn’t have gotten the message from seeing her in that libido-killing bulky robe.

She’d made her point earlier, and he’d be damned if he sat through it again, rehashing stuff he didn’t agree with. Especially when she was half naked, with all the distraction that would have entailed. The way he saw it, they could keep this marriage business focused while having fun too, but there was no way, no how, he’d be pushing the issue now.

Amaya had made her feelings more than clear.

"Chase?"

Her sleepy whisper slammed into his consciousness, beckoning him to stay right where he was. But he couldn't; he wouldn’t take advantage of the situation, no matter how turned on he was or how badly he wanted his wife.

"Shh, go back to sleep."

He stroked her hair, a small part of him melting as she snuggled deeper, and rather than pull away, he cuddled her closer with his arm.

Her hair tickled his shoulder; her cheek, so soft and warm, pressed against his chest; and the faintest scent of lavender and vanilla lulled him into believing that, for now, this was enough.

If Chase was a bad boy, Amaya was a bad girl.

A very bad girl.

When she’d woken in Chase’s arms that first morning, she’d felt him pulling away and sensed him trying to disengage. And while winding up with her head resting on his chest and the rest of her draped over him hadn’t been planned, she’d taken full advantage of the situation.

Maybe not to full advantage, as that would’ve entailed doing a lot more than cuddling, but she’d pretended to sleep while savouring the hard chest cushioning her cheek, the warm, toned body beneath her hands, and his intensely male scent, which set off her pheromones in a big way and always had.

She could’ve stopped there, but, no, she’d been a real, terrible girl.

And proceeded to do the same thing every morning.

For the next few weeks.

Though she was still on the farm with Tommy and the nanny, she worked in her own office now, still managing online meetings with Gary and his team.

The tension was killing her. If only he had done the same to her husband.

"How's married life coming along?" Mary asked one morning over the phone. And though she told her everything, the idea of keeping her secret was overwhelming.

"Really, Mary? You called me to ask that? You know our situation."

"That's the problem. Why on earth didn't you tell him about Tommy? Maybe he’ll change his mind?"

"NO. I'm not using my son to win him."

"Jesus, Amaya! Are you Mother Teresa? No, you are not. Stop being—"

"Mary, you know I can't do that. What if this thing ends soon, and he'll take Tommy from me?"

"I don't know. I think he can do that."

"He can."

Mary sighed from the other end of the line. "So, what do you have in mind? Stay with that marriage contract for how long?"

"As long as I can take my hands off him."

"Oh lala! Now! That's gossip. Tell me the juices…"

"Nothing…I'll call you back. Chase texted me; he wanted something,:"

"What? A quicky, use a condom—"

"Hell no! Bye now. I'll call you back later."

"You better be. I need all the details, okay?"

"Yeah yeah!"

A few minutes later,

"Amaya?"

Her head snapped up from where she’d been resting her chin in her hands, staring out of the window and daydreaming of exactly how bad she’d like to be, to find the object of her wicked fantasies staring at her with cool detachment.

It had to be a ruse. After all, wasn’t he the one who’d been hot to trot on their wedding night? Surely he couldn’t have turned it off just like that?

By his compressed lips and grim expression, apparently so.

Feigning a nonchalance she didn’t feel, she waved her hand towards the stack of paperwork on the table in front of her.

"Amaya? Are you listening?"

She frowned and shook her head. "Yap!"

"Good. I want you to call Justin and set up an online board meeting." He crossed the room, perched on the edge of the table, her eyes now level with his crotch, and she quickly stood, not needing to look there considering she’d been having bad thoughts a few moments ago.

"Okay."

He raised his brow. "You’ve been busy; what exactly?"

"Schedule everything, Chase. Everything."

"Okay."

"From the contractor to the mayor, etc., I have loads of things to do. I’ve got a task list a mile long today, including heading out to the plantation to scout more people for the construction."

"You need help?"

She wanted to just kiss the hell out of him, but he said, "No, it's my job, and you are paying me for that."

"Hang on."

His hand shot out, gripping hers and preventing her from putting some much-needed distance between them.

Trying not to show how much his simple touch affected her, she raised an eyebrow.

"What’s up?"

Shaking his head, he squeezed her hand before releasing it. ‘I’m no good at this.’

"At what?"

"This whole fake marriage thing."

"Oh, thaaat."

Well, well, well, maybe the tension was getting to him after all.

"Not used to sharing a room, huh? This house has many rooms, Chase. I can sleep over at Tommy."

"What?" he asked, and he must’ve heard her teasing tone, but rather than smile, he fixed her with a piercing stare. "Not used to sharing a room with you."

Wait what?

What the hell was it supposed to mean?

Wait…

Right then, she knew that no matter how cool Chase was playing it or how busy he was, he was just as rattled by their underlying attraction as she was.

"Oh? I thought it’d be a breeze."

She waltzed out of her small office next to Chase, went to their room, and walked around the massive room, picking up floral skirts and summer dresses and the odd piece of lingerie or two.

Okay, so she wasn’t playing fair with the lingerie, but, hey, she wanted to get a reaction out of him, and if the tortured look that flickered across his face as she twirled an ebony satin bra on the end of her finger before tossing it into a drawer was any indication, her plan was working.

Chase walked after her. "A breeze? More like a damn tropical cyclone," he muttered, shoving off the couch and heading for the wide window affording a glorious view of the wonderful beach.

Amaya wanted to smile but held herself back. "I’m getting to you, aren’t I?"

She snuck up behind him, just stopping short of sliding her arms around his waist and laying her head against his back.

He didn’t turn, keeping his gaze fixed on the stunning view.

"I guess this business arrangement of ours isn’t quite what I expected."

"That’s because we share a past, you dufus."

Oops. Had she really said that out loud?

By the speed at which he turned to face her, she had.

An endearing smile curled his lips. "Dufus?"

"I’ve called you worse in my nightmare."

His eyes darkened as they hovered over her mouth, as if he were remembering everything she’d ever called him and more.

"Yeah, I remember you calling me worse in Greece..moaning my name even."

"Shut up! We are done talking about anything in Greece, Chase." She’d come this far; she might as well go for broke. So she smiled before saying, "But what else do you remember?"

Silence stretched between them, surprising her. Chase might be many things, but chicken wasn’t one of them. She’d called his bluff, expecting some kind of answer, even if it was a dismissive smart-ass remark.

Just when she’d given up, he finally reached out and twirled a strand of her hair around his finger.

"I remember you calling for my name, wanting me to go harder…faster!"

Okay, he won! Amaya thought. He knew how to play this game.

He tugged on her hair, bringing her closer and closer until there was a whisper between them.

"But most of all, I remember how you made me feel back there."

Unexpected emotion clogged her throat, effectively clouding her sweep-me-into-your-arms fantasy.

She’d wanted to prove the sizzle existed between them, wanted to tease him, wanted to get a reaction out of him. The last thing she’d expected was this serious trip down memory lane from a guy who acted as if they didn’t have a past most of the time.

"How did I make you feel?"

He was so close that his breath feathered her lips, sending a ripple of longing so intense through her that it took her breath away.

"Like I could make all our dreams come true."

She sighed, wishing he hadn’t pushed her away, wishing he’d said yes when she’d asked him, wishing he had made her dreams come true.

Chase was all she’d ever wanted, until his freedom and his fear of becoming like his father became all that mattered.

He’d thought he’d had it all, convinced her to play along, and they’d have the life they wanted. Until he’d withdrawn from her, shutting her out emotionally and physically, citing work, ignoring her, and telling her hurtful things, Yeah, he was a dufus, alright. Chase thought to himself. He was bad. Worse than his father for hurting the woman he loved.

She’d persisted, convinced they were meant to be together and captivated by the occasional glimpse of the guy she’d fallen in love with. Her dreams had been big enough for both of them. But Chase wasn’t the dream-maker she'd once been foolish enough to believe he was.

Acknowledging their attraction was one thing; opening her heart was another, and while she wanted him now more than ever, she knew nothing had changed.

He still wouldn’t open his heart, even if she were crazy enough to insinuate.

"Chase, I don’t think—"

"Then don’t. Think, that is," he murmured, a second before his lips locked on hers in the softest, most heartbreaking kiss that reached all the way down to her soul.

It lasted less than a few seconds, a fleeting glimpse of tenderness rarely seen by this passionate man, and when he raised his head, brushed her bottom lip with a fingertip, and walked away, she was left reeling.

Reeling with the knowledge, she still believed in dreams.

And his ability to make all her dreams come true.