Only Pleasure(26)

During the years when he had been his brother's third in his relationships, sleeping with a woman hadn't bothered him. It had been his responsibility to make certain more than their sexual needs were fulfilled.

Hell, now he knew why Cam had fought sleeping with Jaci, or in taking her without a third. Because there was this intimacy. He could feel it, working its way inside him, filling him with something so damned unfamiliar he couldn't make sense of it.

The feeling that if he didn't get the hell out of that bed now, then he might never make it out of her bed, and then he would never keep her out of his heart.

Like Khalid said, women were gentle creatures with fierce desires. And one of those desires was the need to be touched and held outside sex. It had never bothered Chase to be the one to supply that, until now. Now it frankly scared the shit out of him. Because the longer he held her, the more he. felt her.

He turned and stared down at her in the darkness. Thick blond lashes lay against her cheeks; her lips were relaxed in sleep, though they were still swollen from his kisses, from the thrusts of his cock.

He swallowed, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone in the lightest caress.

Sometimes, he knew she saw into his soul. It was an uncomfortable feeling for a man who had learned to hide who and what he was. She knew parts of him that he knew other women could never guess. And though she hadn't vocalized it, hell, he had given her a chance to, he wondered if perhaps she didn't know more than he did about himself.

It was going to have to stop.

He touched her hair, let the soft strands caress his fingers, and felt his jaw clench at the thought of dragging himself from her warm bed and facing the cold outside. And he knew he had no choice.

This wasn't a relationship, he reminded himself. It was just for the pleasure alone. Confidences weren't exchanged; late-night pillow talk and waking to the same pillow the next morning weren't condoned.

If he did that, he was admitting it was more, and admitting it was more held the power to weaken him. Chase had stared into the dark void of weakness six months before when he had to kill a woman he was more fond of than most, a woman who had somehow lost her grip on reality and attempted to kill his brother and his brother's fiancée.

A woman Chase had desired. One he had thought was a friend. His judgment had been flawed to the extent that he had overlooked all the signs as he ran the investigation into Jaci's and the Robertses' pasts in an attempt to figure out why the Robertses had tried to destroy her.

And now, here he was, six months later, caught in the grip of some strange, unknown hunger for a woman who threatened to twine around his heart in ways Moriah Brockheim hadn't had the chance to.

If he didn't get away from her, then he was going to end up trying to keep her. And keeping her wasn't possible. Keeping any woman wasn't possible at this point. Because Chase had never been good at letting anyone get close to him. It was too much of a risk; the danger in it was too great.

He'd lost his parents at thirteen and lost his twin for nearly twenty years. He had allowed Cameron to be nearly destroyed when he was a child, and for years he had fought to survive without the bond he had grown up with.

He'd learned how to be alone. It was all he knew. He'd never wanted, never ached for anything more, but Kia made him wonder what more would be like. That curiosity was brewing inside him, and it was dangerous.

He didn't want to hurt her. Breaking her heart, after what Drew did to her, was something he flinched at the thought of doing.

This wasn't for the emotion, and he had to remind himself of that. It was never for the emotion.

He forced himself to untangle himself from her slowly, tucking the blankets around her as she moaned, a whispered "no" leaving her parted lips as he rolled to the edge of the bed and straightened up.

His fingers plowed through his hair as he fought to keep from turning back to her. Shaking his head, he pushed himself to his feet and stared back at her. There, in that ocean of a bed, she looked like a little doll, lost and alone.

Son of a bitch. No wonder she slept on that fucking couch. This bed was meant to be shared with a lover. Large and romantic, but it swallowed her small body. The couch, with its firm cushions against her back, would at least give her a measure of illusion. Maybe she could pretend there was someone to hold her through the night.

And he was leaving her to that.

He jerked his clothes from the floor and quickly dressed. If he didn't hurry, then he would never be able to walk away from her.

What the hell had he managed to get himself into here? Falling in love wasn't in his game plan, but if this didn't stop here, then he or Kia, if not both, was going to end up stepping into something that could destroy both of them.

Tucking his shirt into his pants, he lifted his head to look at her one last time, and froze.