Sleeping with Mr. Sexy(13)

I don’t bother masking my appreciation of his physique as he removes his pants, my sharp intake of air giving me away. The irony is that I’ve seen Chase shirtless before. We’ve gone swimming together. We’ve danced closely. He’s held me many a late night while watching movies. But to see him now, in a different light, in a sexual way—he’s different. I attempt to squeeze my legs together, but he’s between them before I have a chance, his hips spreading mine.

He’s gorgeous. His body is beyond amazing and then that sexy smirk makes an appearance.

“What are you smiling about?” he asks. His voice is huskier than usual, and his actions confident as he brushes my hair off my face.

Feeling sassy, I say, “I wasn’t aware I was smiling.”

“Do I make you smile?” Chase crawls up my body in just his briefs. He’s tenting his briefs, so I can’t help but wiggle against him.

“Always,” I reply, closing my eyes. As soon as I do, my head feels fuzzy as the alcohol sets in making me feel as though I’m sinking into the mattress. I open my eyes and the motion stills.

He takes my breasts in his hands, squeezing them through my shirt and bra. My smile disappears as my desire for him returns. His mouth goes to my right one, and he exhales a hot breath over the top. My hips buck, and I can hear him chuckle in response.

“Chase!” I exclaim, lifting my head up to scold him for laughing at me.

“I’m sorry, babe. I’m just kind of surprised I get to do this. I’ve wanted you for so long and I didn’t expect you to feel the same after all of this time.”

I should really address several parts of what he just said, but when he called me ‘Babe’ and said, ‘I’ve wanted you for so long’ my mind shifted gears. My insides began swirling with deep emotions for him.

Chase isn’t my best friend in this moment. Chase is someone I always wanted to be with, but was considered the forbidden. Now, he’s a man with needs that only I can fulfill, and I have needs that only he can fulfill.

My eyes fly open, my breath shallow, and I sit up in bed. Dreaming about buried emotions weigh on my heart as much as seeing his face again like that, wanting me that way, makes my body tingle. I turn on the lamp, knowing I’ll never have Chase that way again and decide to start packing a box to take my mind off of that last night we spent together.

* * *

“Have you figured out when you’re having everyone over to the new place?” Heather asks. She loves planning parties even though I’d be fine not having one.

I side-eye her, hoping she sees it my way. “Can we skip it? I really don’t need a toaster or any gifts for that matter.”

“No, absolutely not. Anyway, everyone brings wine. We’ll stock your wine rack and then I can hang out over there and we can drink it all.”

Resolved to the fact that my friend is insisting on torturing me, I exhale heavily while grabbing my coffee from the barista. “I thought as much, but I appreciate your honesty. I’ll think about hosting a party… just for you and your wine addiction.” I laugh, glad to be back in the city with my friends.

“On a different note, I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” Heather says, her tone firm, but cautious as she walks behind me with her own coffee in hand. She heads for a set of chairs in the corner of the coffeehouse.

“Okay, this sounds serious. Should I be concerned?” I sit back in the leather chair, bracing myself for the worst, even though I don’t know what the worst could be.

“I’ve felt bad keeping you in the dark. I mean, you’ve been back in San Francisco for almost three months now—”

“What is it?” I sit forward in my chair. She’s making me nervous.

“It’s about Chase—”

“No!” I throw my hands in front of my body to stop her. “I don’t want to hear about him.”

“But—”

“Heather, it’s not that I don’t want to hear about him. It’s that I can’t hear about him. My heart can’t take it. It’s taken me a long time to come to terms with what we were and what we are now. I screwed up, and I have major regrets for using him like—”

She leans forward, putting her hand on my knee. “Lydia, it took two. He knew what he was doing.”

“I should have stopped it. We’d be friends now if I had.”

“He was in love with you.”

And there it is—the reality of what my heart always knew, what he told me last December, but I wasn’t ready to face. My work was more important than love, and now I’m paying the price for it.