Chapter 72
“I wish I’d listened to myself about not agreeing to marry you at that time. It would have saved me a lot of hurt and embarrassment.”
Chase raised his brows. He gave her an on-off smile and turned away to shove his feet back into his shoes before he reached for a T-shirt and hauled it over his head. “I’m going up on the bridge to check on things. I’ll leave you to rest or whatever. We’ll have some supper once I secure us for the night in a sheltered cove not far away from here.”
Amaya’s shoulders sagged when the door clicked shut on his exit. She was being silly. What did it matter if he didn’t love her? Refused point blank ever to fall in love with her? They could still have a satisfying relationship. Far more satisfying than any relationship she’d had before. Sure, it wasn’t the fairy-tale relationship she secretly yearned for, but how realistic were those yearnings anyway? She knew more than most about the sort of heartache that came from idealistic expectations in relationships. This way was safer. They had a mutual desire for each other and were both intelligent and rational people with a lot more in common than most. Besides, she wasn’t super in love with him. And she would be perfectly safe as long as she stayed that way.
A few hours later, Chase stood and breathed in the warm night air scented with the brine of the sea. He loved being out on the water, away from all his responsibilities. Out here, he could breathe. He could reflect on the goals he had achieved instead of dwelling on the ones he hadn’t. He wasn’t sure why he’d told Amaya about his past—not in so much detail. But she had shared a lot about herself—deeply personal stuff that couldn’t have been easy to share.
He enjoyed being out here with her—maybe a little too much. The desire that roared between them wasn’t something that was going to fade away any time soon. Not on his part, anyway.
Chase didn’t know what it was about her that made him so fired up. She was beautiful, but then he slept with many beautiful women. No, it was more than that. She was captivating, she was pure and honest; she was too kind for her own good, she wasn't selfish, she was everything he wanted for a woman—for a wife. She was smart and funny, and she responded to him with such fervour that it couldn’t fail to delight him. Hadn’t he always known that? Wasn’t that why he’d been so hands-off with her for all these years? But he wasn’t hands-off with her now. And that was something his body was thrilled about.
More than thrilled. Excited, exhilarated, and ecstatic. He’d had great sex before—too many times to count. But with Amaya, something else happened aside from the physical act of sex. Something deeper.
Her trust in him gave their intimacy a quality he hadn’t experienced quite like that before. Her lack of experience was uncommon in a woman of her age, and Chase couldn’t help feeling pleased about it. It reeked of a big, fat Scottish double standard, but he was privately pleased she hadn’t shared her body with lots of partners. It gave her relationship with him more significance, as if she had waited for him. What man didn’t want a wife who was fiercely attracted to him? It would at least keep her from straying.
If Amaya wanted him, then she would think twice about leaving the relationship before he was ready for it to end. Her desire for him was something he could rely on to keep her true to the commitment they’d made that morning. But as for loving her, of course he cared for her in his own way. Care, concern, tenderness, and love—weren’t they much the same thing? But being in love, well, he wasn’t going down that road again if he could help it.
Chase wasn’t such a cynic; he couldn't see how it worked for some people. People who were less guarded about their emotions...Less…disciplined. But he wasn’t one of them. Not now. He had learned his lesson the hard way and had learned it well. Opening his heart to love had been foolish and immature, and he had paid a high price for it. A price he refused to pay again. He could live a perfectly satisfying year or two with Amaya as his wife without the complications of emotions he didn’t need or trust. The word love was overused these days. People tacked it on to the end of just about every conversation, like some sort of verbal talisman. But how often did they mean it? Really mean it?
He would end his father’s blood line. He would never be like him.
But Amaya was nothing but a pawn in their games, and though he hadn’t thought he was capable of seeing the commitment through while they wanted each other. It was a perfect arrangement for both of them.
She was a career woman with no immediate plans to have a child again. It was good, he married her for a name, which they both needed. It was a win-win situation, right?
Besides, he had his own work commitments that took him around the globe at a moment’s notice. This way, both of them could enjoy the benefits of an exclusive relationship until it was time to move on. What wasn’t to like about her? She was beautiful, amusing, sexy, and had a whip-quick intellect.
Chase was tired of dating women who didn’t have any conversation or little if no sense of humour. Tired of being feted like some sort of guru or celebrity? Chase liked that Amaya saw him as her equal. Liked that she argued with him, debated with him, and stood up to him. He had a strong personality, but rather than intimidating her, it brought out the steely, uncompromising will in hers. He enjoyed sparring with her. Their verbal spats were as exciting as foreplay. He got hard thinking about her prim little mouth firing off another vituperative round at him.
Telling him what she thought of him when he could read her body, she felt the exact opposite. He found it invigorating to interact with her verbally and, of course, physically.
Once he got the yacht settled for the night, Chase went back below deck to find Amaya in the kitchen, sipping a glass of water. She had showered and was dressed in yoga pants and a lightweight, dove-grey boyfriend sweater that had slipped off one creamy shoulder. Her hair was still damp from her shower and was in a makeshift knot at the back of her head. She had looked traffic-stopping stunning that morning at their wedding, but his body leapt at the sight of her, even in such casual clothes and with no make-up on, her unfettered breasts outlined by the drape of her top, and his breath caught like a fish hook in his throat. She put her glass down and raised her chin in that aristocratic manner of hers, as if they hadn’t been writhing around naked and sweaty on his bed less than an hour ago.
“I hope you weren’t expecting me to get supper ready?”
Chase smiled at the tiny spark of defiance in her gaze. After their little heart-to-heart, she was pulling back from him, resetting the boundaries after their intimacy. Was she unsettled by the intensity of their lovemaking? If so, he knew the feeling. He could do with a little regrouping himself to re-establish the balance of power between them. Sex had a habit of tipping things in a relationship. Good sex, that was. And it didn’t get much better than what they’d experienced together.
“Are you hungry?” The tip of Amaya’s tongue passed over her lips, her gaze slipping to his mouth for the briefest moment before her chin came back up.
Chase smiled. "Depends on what’s on the menu.”