“Because,” he snapped, “every time I see you, it’s better than the last. Because like it or not, I am getting to know you and reading you better. And the kind of passion, the moans and screams and claws you have, keep me hard weeks after I see you. And it just. Gets. Better. I’ll chase that desire all damn day if I get more of you.” He took another step. “Is it hard to believe I could actually like you, Chloe? Want to be with you for sex and you?”
She bit her lip again. Truth was, she didn’t believe it, and even if she did, she wouldn’t give in. Being the hot piece Gage nailed whenever he came into town had clear lines. She knew where she stood, and there wasn’t a chance of getting caught up and hurt because she’d complicated their arrangement with feelings.
This had to stay a casual sexual relationship because she couldn’t risk there being a day when Gage might not want to come back ever again. Her mother had given in to that kind of relationship, and it had ruined her until the day she’d died. She’d pined for Chloe’s father, like she was so lost without him that she couldn’t accept he was never coming back.
Chloe would never let herself open her heart to a man when it meant he could leave her, too, the same way her father had left her mother.
The sex-only relationship she had with Gage was safe. This way she could savor him and let him go each time with no expectations, always ready for the possibility that he would never come back.
She ran her palm up his stomach, slowly taking in every nook and ridge of hardness. He relaxed his shoulders on a sharp exhale. Gage was right, chasing the kind of passion they had was a heady thing. And she’d chase, too, because she wasn’t ready to give up the intensity they shared. She could fake a little romance without getting in too deep if it meant more of him.
“We talked.” She skimmed her fingertips down his stomach, to the edge of his waistband. His pants were tented by an erection he wasn’t even trying to hide. She hovered closer, pressing her mouth against his chest as her fingers dipped to the knuckle into his pants.
His breath was ragged, his skin heated. He was fighting himself. Hopefully he’d see reason and finally give in.
“Give me one thing,” he said. “One honest, true, real thing about yourself.”
She met his gaze and paused. “I can’t cook. I own my mother’s restaurant and can’t cook.”
She was entrusted to run her mother’s legacy and was failing. Reintroducing her mom’s food to the menu and renovating the balcony didn’t make Chloe competent. And that realization was one she struggled with every day.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” he offered. He was trying to be sweet, and she appreciated that, but…
“Nope, it’s true. And normally I wouldn’t mind so much, but there’s just one thing—” She stopped herself from going into details, because it was those details that made it hard to swallow the failure rising in her throat.
“What one thing, sweetheart?” he pressed. “You want to cook something special?”
She was playing a dangerous game with a man that she knew better than to play with at all. Their one rule, “casual,” had kept her safe every time he’d come and every time he’d left. But now he’d changed the rules. Now he wanted “romance.” Now he wanted her to open up to him. Now he wanted her to feel for him with her heart, not just her body.
“Forget it,” she said.
“No.” His voice was blunt and deep. Not harsh, but that one word was said with such authority that Chloe registered the intent. He was telling her he would not forget a thing.
“I want to make something specific for the restaurant anniversary coming up, but I’m struggling. Happy now?” she said with her own snap. She didn’t want to go into her shortcomings. Didn’t want to discuss “real” things, like how she missed her mother and how she hated the loss of her. Hated how her mother had lived her last several years with a broken heart because she was waiting on a man. Hated that deep down, Chloe feared she was looking at the man who could ruin her the same way.
She shook her head. No way in hell would she think about this, much less tell Gage about it. Time for the sex. Not the reality.
“Now can we get back to this…” She reached into his pants a little further.
“Chloe…”
“I’m right here.” She placed another soft kiss over his nipple. “The question is, what are you going to do about it?” She bit down on his meaty pec, and he growled and drove his hands into her hair. He pressed her against the nearest tree and kicked her legs apart.
Chloe smiled, and the low hum of need she’d been fighting burst into overdrive. She was done with reality. Done with talking. Now it was time for what they did best.
She clawed at his hips, pulled him close between her spread legs, and rocked on his hard cock, hitting the perfect spot. Even between their pants, he knew how to move, where to touch, how to turn her on.
He kissed her hard as the grip on her hair tightened further. He pulled—and she gasped. The shock of pain and pleasure always hit her like a surprise, and she loved it. Gage didn’t wait. Didn’t negotiate. He took her exactly how she liked it.
“You drive me crazy.” He bit her tongue. “So fucking crazy I want to remind you who’s in charge.”