Sophie on her knees with his dick in her mouth was just about the most exciting thing he’d ever seen in his life. She gripped him with both hands, licked and sucked him like he was made of chocolate, and he thought the top of his head might blow off if she kept it up.
So he’d pulled her up, bent her over the bed, and slammed into her from behind. Damn, but her pussy was addictive.
Then he’d set an alarm and lain down in bed with her. Now he stood and pulled on his jeans—not the easiest of tasks when just thinking about Sophie made him hard—then walked to the glass door and peered outside. Nothing looked out of place. He turned and went back over to the bed. Sophie lay on her side, curled under the covers, and he wondered for a few moments how many more times he would see her like this.
One more time? Twice? Never?
That thought sat like a stone in his gut. He told himself it didn’t matter, that he’d be banging some new chick by this time next week and her pussy would be every bit as wonderful. It was just the circumstances making this so exciting.
That and the way they talked about anything and everything. Now that he’d miss.
Chase swore softly, then checked his phone in case he had any texts from Hawk. There was nothing.
“What time is it?” Sophie asked, her voice gravelly with sleep.
“Not quite midnight yet.”
She sat up and pushed her hair out of her face. She yawned; then she got up from the bed. She was completely naked, her skin gleaming like pearls in the evening light. Her body was lush, full-figured. Her breasts swayed as she bent to retrieve her jeans from where she’d dragged them out of the suitcase and set them earlier. She didn’t try to hide her body as she began to get dressed. He knew that was a big deal, just as he knew if he were anyone else, she probably would have hidden herself from him.
The fact that she didn’t hit him in the gut and sucked away some of his air. Then she pushed her hair away from her face and he was hit again, this time by how beautiful and amazing she was. No self-consciousness there. Only a sultry kind of beauty and the satisfied look of a woman who’d had great orgasms.
Jesus, he was a lucky bastard that she’d shared all that beauty and sexiness with him.
“Hungry again?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Only he didn’t think she meant hungry for sex, which he definitely was—but he was also the other kind of hungry. It had been a few hours since they’d eaten, after all. “You?”
“Oh yes. Sex with you is like running ten miles on the treadmill. A month with you and I could totally rock a bikini.”
He knew she was joking, but the fact she was putting herself down pricked him anyway. “You could rock a bikini now. In fact, I’d like to see you in one. For my eyes only, of course.”
“Come to LA this summer and maybe I’ll wear one for you.”
He crossed his arms and regarded her. “Not going back to New York?”
She frowned. “I kind of want to go somewhere far away from New York right now.”
“I thought you had an audition next week.”
Her chin lifted. “I do… but it doesn’t matter. I’ll find something in LA when I’m ready.”
He hated that she felt like she had to run away, but he understood it. Doing what he did, he often saw the effects of posttraumatic stress on people. What Sophie had gone through could certainly cause a need for retreat and safety in familiar surroundings.
“They film television shows in DC and Baltimore.”
She stared at him for a long minute. Her throat moved as she swallowed. He cursed himself then because what the fuck was he doing? He couldn’t encourage this. Getting involved with Sophie would be bad. They’d have to hide their relationship—their familial relationship on paper, that is—and he’d have to lie to his mother.
It wasn’t worth it. But that thought made his chest constrict. Why not? Why isn’t this worth it?
“I can’t go to DC, Chase.”
He shrugged even though there was an ache in the pit of his stomach. “It was just a thought.”
He tugged on a shirt. He wouldn’t sleep again before it was time to leave for the airport. He’d rested when it was safe to do so, but the closer they got to go-time, the less safe he felt. It was typical mission adrenaline. Once they were back in DC, he’d feel better about the whole thing.
A car’s brakes squealed to a stop outside and then doors slammed shut. He didn’t think much of it until the sound of multiple footsteps began to echo up the stairwell. He listened hard. It could be anything. It could be nothing. There was no way that Turov had found them. How could he?
But Chase’s instincts wouldn’t let him ignore it. He grabbed his jacket and then shouldered the bag with the weapons and ammo as he turned to Sophie. She was standing frozen near the bed, her head cocked as if she was listening too.