Chapter 82
To hell with her common sense. Amaya thought. To risk or not to risk her heart again. It doesn't matter now. All she ever wanted was to forget her problem with her father.
“Chase…”
Her wanton plea made his hard-on throb as he lifted her top, ducked his head, and captured an erect nipple between his teeth, plucking at the lace covering it. Her low moans fired him to flick the clasp and allow the tempting lushness to fall into his hands.
But the garden had other ideas, as the raucous cackle of a nearby kookaburra pierced the silence and reminded him of where they were.
Reluctantly tugging her top down, he brushed a soft kiss against her lips. “Maybe we can talk more later?”
She nodded her head. To hell with her pride.
“I think so.”
“Good, but you used to love those damn birds. Too bad this one has shocking timing.”
She laughed, a clear, joyous sound that had him chuckling right along with her. “Remember the time we made out the first time we met?”
“Can we change the subject?”
He took a pointed look at his groin. “You’re killing me, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Chase—”
“Amaya, can you forgive me for being an ass?”
“I already did, but can you forgive me for keeping Tommy from you?”
“I already did... the minute I left the room, the last time we talked. I was just confused and shocked.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” As she ground her pelvis against his, her smile was pure evil. “By the way, Oh, I noticed.”
She slid her hands around his neck, bringing her breasts flush against his chest. “Why don’t we continue this discussion back in the bedroom?”
“You’re one wicked woman,” he said, smoothing the stray tendrils of her hair away from her face, his heart bucking at the adoration in her eyes.
Chase wanted her to look at him like this. Then why the faintest doubt he was deluding himself about everything?
One night, he’d been blinded to the transient nature of their marriage: her job, her promotion, their deal.
Last time they made love, it changed everything, but they hadn’t discussed any of it, and while now wasn’t ideal, there would come a time soon, very soon, where they’d both need to lay it all on the line.
“Come on, let’s head back.”
He didn’t need to be asked twice, and as they sprinted back to the living room, laughing and falling over their flying feet, he banished his doubts and decided to live in the moment.
For now.
Amaya paced from one end of their suite to the other, casting malevolent glances at her laptop on each circuit and the incriminating email on the screen.
The promotion was hers. Chase made sure of that. She would be transferred to the IT specialist department soon.
She’d done it. Ignore her father. Talk to her child about Chase.
Which meant she made it.
So where did that leave her and Chase? They didn't talk about anything more exclusive since that time in the garden.
She should be ecstatic, her dream finally becoming a reality, with the added bonus of clearing her debt to Daddy dearest and finally being free of her past.
Instead, dread warred with terror as she mentally rehearsed her spiel.
But what if the dream had changed?
What if the dream had evolved to include a sexy billionaire, a pristine beach, and a very real marriage?
At the sound of the door opening, she stopped, lunged at the laptop, and slammed it shut.
She was nowhere near ready for this.
“Hey, how’s the most beautiful girl doing?”
“Great.”
She forced a smile, quelling the urge to blurt out her questions and doubts about their relationship—were they for real now? Or what? She dreaded his answer the instant he stepped through the door.
He opened his arms. “Come here. Rough day at the office, and I need a welcome kiss from my wife.”
She flew into his arms, crushing her lips to his in an urgent, validating kiss, before burrowing into his chest, seeking comfort, seeking warmth, and seeking a solution to her terrible dilemma.
She wanted the promotion.
She wanted him.
And never should the two meet.
“What’s up?”
He pulled away, his hands spanning her waist, anchoring her in a world spinning dangerously out of control.
“We need to discuss our arrangement.”
“Arrangement? What more to discuss? I thought—we, well, everything is doing great, right?” Frowning, Chase dropped his hands and stepped away, leaving her cursing her choice of words and wishing there were a simple solution to this.
But there wasn't, and she needed to face the truth: she’d fallen for Chase all over again, had blown her ‘have fun for a short time, not a long time’ motto, and, in doing so, had the potential to blow her dream job too.
But he never told her he loved her. Was she hpoing? Wanting for more?
“By arrangement, I assume you mean our marriage?”
She nodded, biting her bottom lip as his face wiped off all expression, his cool indifference a frightening reminder of the emotional barriers.
“Yes.”
“And?” He asked. He thrust his hands in his pockets, his calculating gaze not leaving hers, as if daring her to continue, daring her to speak her mind and put an end to this.
“It’s all happened rather soon."
“Chase—”
“When do you leave?”
What?
No begging her to stay, no declaration of undying love.
But then, what did she expect?
Ever since their marriage had turned physical, they’d slipped into old ways: comfortable with each other, teasing, joking, and making up for lost time in the bedroom.
Yet they’d skirt around the issue of a future, never chatting beyond the day-to-day events, making love with frantic abandon as if each time could be their last.
It reminded her of the past and of the fragile nature of their non-existent relationship back then. But Chase wasn’t the bad-ass rebel any more, and she wasn’t the wide-eyed romantic dreaming of happily ever after.
She hadn’t gotten as far as she had in her career without being practical, and there was no way she’d give up on them without a fight.
There had to be a solution to this; there just had to be one.
Grabbing her hair and twisting it into a loose knot at the base of her neck, she sank onto the edge of the bed and patted it.
“My leaving depends on you. I can't just stay here and guess about us.
“What do you mean by that, Amaya?”
He eyed her warily, his rigid posture at odds with the fleeting yearning in his eyes as his gaze strayed to the spot next to her.
“Chase, come on, take a seat. We need to sort this out.”
“Fine.”
With a terse nod, he flung himself into an armchair opposite, his inflexible expression not giving an inch.
“Don’t trust me?”
“Don’t trust myself.”
“Come on, this is all you wanted, right? This contract... between us is your idea, Chase.”
“Yes, then why are you leaving?”
“I—”
Why was she living anyway? She thought to herself.
A glimmer of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, giving her hope.
“Please sit beside me, Chase.”
“You know what happens any time I get near you on a bed.”
“Not just a bed, from memory.”
His eyes darkened to burnt azure, and she swallowed. It was so easy to slip into old ways with him—teasing and flirting. But flirting wouldn’t solve this; nothing but a good dose of honesty would, and she steadied her resolve to confront this rather than tumble into bed with him and forget everything. They had a child for fuck sake. What more could she ask?
She shook her head, breaking eye contact, and when she met his gaze again, he’d cooled, slipping those darn barriers firmly back in place.
“What do you want, Amaya?”
The million-dollar question: if only she had a priceless answer.
“Honestly? I want it all. My job, the promotion, you, Tommy and you.”
She trailed off, hoping he’d fill the void, say something, anything, to give her some indication he wanted this marriage to work as much as she did.
But he didn’t move, didn’t speak; his lips clamped shut in tight disapproval, leaving her floundering for her next words when she was usually brilliantly articulate at work.
With her job, she knew what she wanted and knew what to say to get it. She’d nailed pitches other companies craved and had climbed to the top with sheer determination.
Those skills weren’t exclusive to IT specialists, and right now she knew what she wanted, and he was staring at her with studied apathy she knew had to be a front.
“I know this marriage was a business arrangement at first, but the boundaries have changed.”
Taking a deep breath, she made the pitch of her life. “I want this marriage to work, and not just because of our deal at the start. We’ve got something special, something that time apart hasn’t erased, and I know if we give this a chance, it can be the best thing to happen to us. To Tommy and us.”
His expression thawed, his shoulders relaxing as he swiped a hand over his face, and she went for broke.
“Whatever it takes to make this marriage work, I’ll do it. If it means giving up a job,” she added.
She shrugged, shocked by the words coming out of her mouth, yet strangely relieved.
She’d voiced a solution—a terrifying, monstrous, life-changing solution—and rather than being overwhelmed by the enormity of it, her heart expanded, filled with a surprising peace.
Shock darkened his eyes as he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.
“You’d do that for me?”
“For us, Chase. For you and Tommy. For us.”
Padding over to join him, she plopped onto his lap, leaving him no option but to hold her.
“Hell, Amaya, I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything for now.” She placed a finger against his lips, yearning to trace the contours but knowing this wasn’t the time. Despite his shell-shocked expression, he hadn’t lost the wariness, and she knew he needed time—time to think, to assimilate, to decide.
She knew what she wanted; it looked as if her husband needed to figure it out.
“Think about it. We’ll talk later, okay?” she said, brushing a kiss across his lips, Amaya slipped from his arms. Saddened, he let her go but determined to give him the time he needed.
She’d done her bit to save their marriage.
The rest was up to him.