“Would you care for dessert?” Sammi asked.
He had no appetite, but he was grateful for a temporary reprieve. Maybe in the interim he could come up with a way to break it to her. “Sure.”
She leaned forward, revealing a distracting depth of cleavage, and gave him a teasing smile. “First you have to fulfill the other terms of the bet.”
He quirked up an eyebrow. “There are other terms?”
“Since you lost, you have to clear the table.”
“That wasn’t a condition of the bet.”
“We didn’t set any conditions. It was winner’s choice, remember?”
“A terrible oversight on my part. Any other conditions I should know about?”
“Well, there is one other little thing.” Mischief gleamed in her eyes. “But I’m saving it for later.”
Chase shook his head. “I insist on paying my debt in full, right here, right now.”
Her eyes heated to pure trouble, and he realized he’d stepped onto dangerous ground. “You have to kiss me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
His pulse beat harder. Hell. He couldn’t very well refuse. Besides, one kiss would soften the impact of what he had to tell her. He’d keep the table between them to prevent things from escalating out of control. Taking her hands, he rose and leaned forward, pulling her toward him.
The minute her mouth touched his, he knew he’d miscalculated. Her lips were a portal to every nerve in his body.
She tasted like wine—sweet and tart and intoxicating. She smelled like fruity shampoo and soft perfume and that singular, distinctive Sammi scent that made him dizzy with desire. He angled his mouth over hers, deepening the kiss. Her lips were soft and wet and eager, parting for him, urging him on. Her hands moved to the side of his face, then into his hair.
He wished he’d already cleared the table so he could pull her right onto it. Desire curled around them like smoke. He could almost smell it.
Oh, dear God—he
did
smell it! Alarmed, he opened his eyes to see that the sash of her blouse was in flames. He jerked back, grabbed his water glass, and threw the contents on her.
“What—why…?” She opened her eyes and stared at him.
“Your shirt.” He snatched the glass from her place setting and hurled its contents on her, as well. The flame was extinguished, but the ends of the sash still smoldered.
“Yikes!” She jumped back. He grabbed the other end of the tie and pulled, undoing the bow. She yanked off the blouse as if it were a snake about to bite her. Chase picked the smoldering shirt off the floor and dashed to the kitchen, where he threw it in the sink.
He turned on the faucet. Her blouse hissed as water doused the final embers. “I can’t believe that just happened,” Sammi said beside him.
Chase turned toward her and noticed she was shivering. “Are you burned?”
“No. I-I’m fine. In shock, but fine.”
She was wearing a sheer black bra. He could see the dusky pink of her nipples through the fabric, and the sight set off another type of fire deep inside him. She folded her arms across her chest, suddenly self-conscious.
He rapidly unbuttoned his shirt, pulled it off, and handed it to her. “Here.”
“Th-thanks.” She turned her back to him to slip it on.
Sexual tension coiled around him. He cleared his throat. “While you’re regrouping, I’ll clean up.”
He headed back to the dining room, mopped up the water, and gathered up the dishes. He returned to the kitchen to find her clutching his shirt around her, her expression morose.
“I did it again, didn’t I?” She lifted sad hazel eyes to his. “I ruined the evening.”
The dishes clattered as he set them in the sink. “You didn’t ruin it.” He leaned against the counter and smiled. “You just… enlivened it.”
She gave him a shaky grin. The sight of it made his heart turn over.
Tell her,
his conscience demanded.
Tell her now.
He dragged his hand through his hair and swallowed. “Actually, it’s probably good we were interrupted. Instead of just getting carried away, we need to sit down and talk.”
She turned away, her hand to her mouth. Tears sprang to her eyes.
Concerned, he took a step toward her. He lifted her hair from her face and saw tears streaking down her cheeks. “Hey—what’s the matter?”
“I-I
wanted
to get carried away.” Her voice was small and broken. She wiped her cheeks with both hands. “I wanted everything to be romantic.”
“It was.”
A tear dripped off her chin. “
Was
. Past tense. Before I threw cold water on everything.”
Chase tried to lighten the moment. “Actually, I was the one who threw the cold water.”
“I do this every time.” She threw out her hands, which made the unbuttoned shirt gape open. She yanked it closed. “I always sabotage things, because I’m afraid of—of… ” Fresh tears filled her eyes.
He moved closer. “Of what?”
“Of being… ” Her voice trailed off to a whisper.
He needed her to tell him, face-to-face. If she willingly told him her secrets when she knew she was talking to Chase, it would make it less awful that he’d been privy to them without her knowledge. “You’re afraid of being what?” he urged.
“Known.” The word was a broken whisper. She turned away.
He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her back around. “What don’t you want me to know about you, Sammi?”
She looked down. A tear dripped down her cheek. “That I’m inadequate.”
Aw, hell. Chase moved closer, rubbing his hands down her upper arms. “Sammi, sweetie, you are the most completely adequate woman I’ve ever known.”
It had the desired effect. Her lips curved in a tremulous grin even as another tear dropped off her chin.
“I mean it.” His hands moved to the sides of her face. “You’re so adequate you’re actually tolerable. You meet all of the minimum requirements. I’m sure you’re even satisfactory.”
Her wobbly grin widened. It shifted a tectonic plate in his heart. He ran the pads of his thumbs across her cheeks, wiping away the tears, and cradled her face. “Sammi, honey—do you have any idea what you do to me?”
“Yeah. Apparently I make you want to
talk
.”
He gazed at her, his chest tight. “That’s not what you make me want to do.”
“No?” Her eyes were hazel syringes of truth serum, searching for an injection site.
Oh, God—how was he supposed to handle this? He needed to level with her, but if he told her the truth now, he’d only perpetuate her cycle of self-doubt and self-sabotage. He desperately wanted to do the right thing—but what, exactly, was it? The apparent right thing seemed all wrong at the moment.
The last thing she needed right now was rejection. Right now, she needed to be shown that she was desired and desirable, that she hadn’t scared him off with her klutz attacks, that she was worth all risk to life and limb.
He was out of his depth. He solved problems with logic, but logic didn’t apply here. This was a matter of the heart. He drew a deep breath and let his heart do the talking.
“Sammi,” he murmured. “It’s going to take a lot more than setting yourself on fire to keep me away from you.” He pulled her close and kissed her. Her arms wound around his neck, her body melting into his.
He bent down, hooked his arms under her knees, and picked her up. She gasped with surprise as he lifted her and carried her down the hall.
It was a good thing he was holding her, because she just might have swooned. The warmth of his naked chest, the soapy sandalwood scent of his neck, the glitter of intent in his dark eyes were enough to make her pull a Scarlett O’Hara.
The mattress squeaked as he gently set her on the taupe satin bedspread. She reached for the lamp switch.
“Keep it on,” he said, sitting on the mattress beside her. “I want to see you.”
Her muscles tensed. What if he didn’t like what he saw? But the look in his eyes as he stretched out beside her told her he liked it plenty so far.
She was certainly enjoying the view, as well. She leaned back against the pillows, drinking in the sight of his broad chest, his ripped abs, his sculpted arms.
He reached out and unfastened the front hook of her bra. She held her breath as he pulled it apart, then lost her nerve and crossed her arms to cover herself.
“What’s the matter?” Chase asked.
“I-I’m too small,” she murmured.
“Says who?”
Sammi felt her face burn. “Lance. He wanted me to get breast implants.”
“Lance needed a brain implant.” He leaned down and reclaimed her lips.
The kiss swept away all coherent thought. Before she knew it, she’d wound her arms around his neck, letting the shirt fall open.
He gazed down at her. “Oh, man,” he murmured, his voice soft and gravelly. “You’re so damned beautiful it almost hurts.”
He touched her breasts, slowly and reverently. There was no mistaking the heat in his eyes. It burned away her self-consciousness like the sun on fog, allowing her to focus on the here and now, on the moment, on
him
.
She reached for him and pulled him down, aching to feel the length and weight and warmth of him, to feel his chest against hers. His mouth once again met hers, and she ventured her tongue between his lips. He tasted salty and sweet and vaguely of wine. He pulled her lower lip into his mouth, and she groaned at the heady, intoxicating sensation.
He eased her shirt and bra off her arms, then leaned over her, his hands skimming down her sides. “Beautiful,” he murmured as he trailed kisses across her face, down her throat, and across her chest. “So beautiful.” He softly stroked her breasts, then lowered his mouth to kiss first one, then the other. Her nerve endings danced with pleasure.
“Perfect. You’re just perfect,” Chase murmured, taking a pebbled tip in his mouth.
It was as if a live wire linked the tips of her breasts to her intimate core. His hands slid downward. He found the edge of her denim skirt and eased it up, stroking the outside of her thigh, moving to the inside, sliding, gliding higher. She moved beneath him, silently urging him to touch her where she ached to be touched. His mouth trailed down her belly. He drew back and unbuttoned her skirt, then unfastened the zipper and slowly, slowly pulled it down.
He sucked in his breath as he saw her black lace thong. “Wow.”
Sammi grinned, loving the look on his face, loving the fact that she’d put it there. “You’re overdressed for the occasion,” she said, sitting up and reaching for his belt buckle.
He groaned as she unfastened it. His erection, hot and large and rigid, pressed against the zipper as she struggled to pull it down. He stood and peeled off his jeans and boxer briefs in record time, pausing to pull a foil packet out of his pocket and place it on the nightstand.
The sight of him in the lamplight, hard-muscled and massively aroused, sent a shiver up her spine. The bed dipped as he climbed back on it. She reached for him, but he moved lower on the bed.
“I want to touch you,” she murmured.
“Not yet.” He grazed a trail of kisses across her chest, her breasts, her belly, her hips. He shifted down on the bed and kissed her inner thigh, his fingers toying with the elastic of her panties.
He took his time, fingering the edges of her panties, stroking her through the barrier of thin fabric until her breath came in gasps. By the time he finally pulled her panties down and off, she was throbbing with need. And then his lips and fingers were on her and in her, and she was speeding down a hill in a runaway train, a train that was shaking and exploding as it flew right off a cliff.
She must have cried out, because she heard a cry. When she finally landed, he was hovering over her, his eyes warm. “Thank you,” she breathed.
His mouth curved in a grin. “The pleasure was all mine.”
She touched his cheek and smiled back. His five-o’clock shadow rasped against her fingers. “Not yet. But we can fix that.”
She reached for the condom on the bedside table and ripped it open, then carefully rolled it down his throbbing shaft.
“Sammi… ” he murmured, reaching for her.
She pulled him down on top her as she stretched out on the bed. She wrapped her legs around him and lifted her hips, then gasped as he started to enter her.
He instantly stilled. “Am I hurting you?”
“No,” she whispered. “But you’ll kill me if you make me wait any longer.”
She was grateful that he didn’t. Slowly, slowly he filled her, filling her heart as well as her body. She moved against him and they found their rhythm, and the next thing she knew, she was on that train again, rushing downhill with no brakes, picking up speed, flying past the point of no return with wild abandon.
And this time, she took him with her.