He kisses me, and everything is wet and wanting. Our bodies fuse together. Only his thin boxers and my even thinner panties keep us apart. He kisses me as if my mouth is his lifeline, his oxygen. He traces the fabric of my bra strap with his other hand until he’s playing with the edge of the peekaboo lace. We do have an audience, even if we’re probably just silhouettes in the water. Somehow, that just makes things feel hotter, wilder. Maybe I have a little voyeur in my inexperienced heart.
As if he can read my mind, he turns so that his large body blocks the view from the beach and shifts me up so that my breasts are on full display to him. His fingers play back and forth over my bra, as he watches my nipples harden through the see-through lace. He takes in a ragged breath when my hips move forward in a rhythm against his hardness. His hand goes to the front closure of my bra and hovers over it.
My eyes close as I whisper, “Kiss me. Chase. Please.” I’m not too proud to beg. I want his lips more than my next breath.
His mouth crashes down on mine. Our kiss is as wild as a storm at sea. This is no sweet seduction. It’s a mad melding of bodies as my hands grasp everywhere I can reach, and he brands me with his hot mouth and burning touch. I grind against him, dying for relief that only he can bring. As hot as it was in the hotel in San Francisco, this is even more.
He kisses his way down to my breasts that are on full display in my soaked bra, my nipples hard as pebbles. He unsnaps the front closure and sweeps aside the wet fabric, sucking first one nipple, then the other.
“God, your body, Olivia. Your tits are perfect. I’ve been dying to do this for so long,” he groans.
I’ve never felt confident in my body before. But with the way he looks at me, the way he kisses me, and his rock-hard length pressing against me, for the first time, I feel the full power of being a woman. It’s heady. It’s hard to be an average girl with curves in a world that glorifies skinny. Until now. I see in his eyes just how much he loves my full breasts and hourglass figure.
We make out like that for I don’t know how long. Long enough for me to get lost in his drugging kisses, his hand straying down to my underwear, and for my hand to get bold and desperate enough to stroke his length. Long enough for me to know that if we continue, I’ll shatter right here in the sea, with bodyguards in the dark distance.
“Enough.” Chase wrenches our mouths apart. His face turns up to the moonlight, panting. “Fuck, Olivia. I didn’t mean to go this far. You make me lose my mind.”
I can barely make out his perfect features. What I do see mirrors my feelings, the passion and the longing. Yet he’s still fighting it.
I’m achingly aware that there is no future in this, in us. He’ll end up with a woman who can navigate his fame with grace. He’s already told me this.
It’s been fun to play at this life for a while, to let Emma dress me and get dolled up. But I’m a tumble-down Victorian, and he’s a Malibu mansion. I’m shabby, light on the chic. He’s a designer’s dream. I’m all about the bookish life, and he’s jet-set.
But despite all that, I still want him. When we’re done, he’ll go back to his life and I’ll go back to mine, but at least I’ll have this. Maybe someday I’ll find that forever kind of love I’ve always wanted. Like what I hoped to have with Remington, only reciprocated, only real. Or what I’d like with Chase, only longer than a few hot summer weeks.
But until then, I want this night.
I open my mouth to tell him just that, but a distant ringing reaches us through the dark.
“Is that a phone?” I ask, confused.
He pulls away from me. “I’m sorry. It might be Duncan. I have to answer,” he says, snapping my bra, taking my hand, and leading me through the water, blocking me from any eyes that might be looking from the rocks above.
He tosses me one of the towels that he left by the water and takes one for himself. He throws the towel over his shoulder, passing me my dress and rummaging in his pants pocket that he discarded on the beach. As he answers the phone with a growl, I towel off quickly and put the dress on, saying a silent apology to the delicate fabric for the saltwater bath it gets from my wet undergarments and still streaming hair.
“Duncan, I told you not to call unless there was an emergency. What? Are you sure? Fuck. How did this happen?” He listens without saying anything. “No. We’re okay. We can stay at Ronan’s, at the beach house. It’s safer. Fine. Keep me updated.”
He hangs up, and, shoulders hunched, looks at me with a dark expression.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my palms sweating at the way he’s staring at me. I rub my arm, feeling uncomfortably sticky from the salt water. His jaw clenches as he watches me. Nerves dance in my stomach at his intensity. Does he know I’ve been keeping the fire report quiet?
I laugh self-consciously as the silence draws out. “You’re making me scared now. What was the call about?”
“It’s about your stalker. The guards found another threatening letter from her. It was left with some packages at the guard gate. She obviously knows you’re staying with me. We had a tail on her, but he lost her. It’s not safe to go home.”
“But—” I almost tell him the truth. The stalker may be a stalker, but she’s not necessarily a danger. She didn’t set fire to my house. I did that all by myself by not updating the electrical system.
“We’ll stay overnight at Ronan’s beach house. It’s small. There’s only one bedroom. But we can manage for one night. And tomorrow, we’ll figure something out.”
He turns and points to the small bungalow on the bluff above us.
“That’s Ronan’s house?”
“Yes. It’s how I know about this place, and that it’s private.”
“As in your costar Ronan Masters? We’re staying at his house?”
Chase nods. I can see his face tense in the moonlight.
“There’s only one bedroom?” I breathe out. Only one…bed?
I may write mysteries, not romance, but I’ve seen enough rom-coms to know how that could end.
I try to wipe the smile from my mouth. This is supposed to be a concerning situation. Even in the dim glow of moonlight and twinkle lights, I can tell that Chase doesn’t look happy. Not at all. He looks stressed and worried.
But I’m jubilant. I only have a short time left with Chase. This is like a gift from the gods. And you can’t deny a gift from the gods. It would be impolite. Blasphemous, even.
My guilty conscience says to tell Chase about the fire report. That he needs all the information. That it’s not right keeping it from him. But if he knows, he might not think we need to stay in the bungalow for the night. The bungalow that only has one bedroom. Quite possibly only one bed.
It’s just one night.
What’s the harm in keeping it secret for one more night?
I’ll tell him first thing in the morning.
CHAPTER 31
Chase
We make our way up the path to the weathered cottage overlooking the beach. We walk in silence, hand in hand, except at the narrow portions where I follow her. She pulls down her dress self-consciously, and I want to tell her to stop hiding that luscious ass.
The cottage is small and quaint, completely hidden from the road, surrounded by craggy trees and rocks. Wind chimes greet us, and large shells line a handmade bench and a macramé hammock that looks like the perfect place to read a book. A row of surfboards gives the white-shingled cottage a surfer vibe. It’s not what anyone would imagine Ronan Masters’s house to look like. If not for the million-dollar view, the house could belong to an aging hippie or surfer.
“Pretty humble place for a movie star,” she says, taking it all in. “Though he does look like he surfs, with that long blond hair and all those golden muscles.” She gives a little sigh, as if imagining my costar’s attributes.
I just grunt. It’s obvious she approves of his muscles, and as much as I work out, I’ll never compete with Ronan in sheer size. He’s a giant, a Nordic god of an action star. His muscles have muscles.
I try to remember that I actually like Ronan. He’s a good friend, or as much of a friend as two insanely private coworkers can be. But I don’t like that smile Olivia has when she talks about him.
I reach into a potted plant and come up with the key.