In Deep: Chase & Emma (All In Book 1) (7 page)

“All right. Are you
in a rush?”

See, that was the
problem. Five days in and we’d already gotten in the habit of
spending too much time together. Last night I hadn’t even left for
almost an hour after I’d worked on him. He’d played me this
hilarious YouTube video the Australian swim team had put together,
lip-syncing a popular hit song with everyone dancing around. That had
led to more lip-syncing searches and laughing and joking about what
the U.S. team should do in response. I’d lobbied hard for some
Pink. I wasn’t picky about which song. She could do no wrong in my
opinion. Chase had insisted on Journey’s epic “Don’t Stop
Believin’.” It was that or nothing.

But we couldn’t go
there tonight. Tonight I had to stay professional. And get the inside
scoop. How the hell was I supposed to do that?

I kept quiet as I
massaged his quads. It was too difficult to talk, anyway, he was so
huge and powerful and my hands were just too damn close to something
else that looked pretty damn huge and powerful. And using warm oil to
work out the tension through his chest and shoulders? Nope, I
couldn’t manage much small talk then, either. Especially when every
now and then he’d make a low, sexy groan of pleasure that nearly
drove me insane. Half of me wanted to yell out in frustration, “are
you kidding me?” The other half of me wanted to throw down the
towel and declare defeat, hopping on top to straddle him and go for a
ride all night long.

Once he was lying on
his front and I was working his back, it got a little easier. His
calf muscles were probably the safest part to touch. I was
professional enough to handle them. Even though they were so hard and
defined you had to wonder if his calves felt that good...

But anyway, while I was
working on his calf muscles, I tried to follow Tori’s advice. I was
there to get the scoop. I needed to get on with it.

“So, why did you
become a swimmer?” I winced at the way it came out, like Diane
Sawyer sitting down to do a one-on-one exclusive interview. Oh well,
it was the best I could do when I was feeling so distracted and
agitated.

“What?” He didn’t
seem to follow my question. I repeated it. He tensed up, even under
my massaging fingers. “I guess, to prove I could.”

There it was, my in.
“Do you mean after the accident? When you almost drowned?”

And just like that, he
sat and then stood up. He picked up a T-shirt and shrugged into it.
Covering up. Aces.

I stood there, feeling
like an idiot. He raked a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” I
began, hating the way I’d tried to pry. “I don’t mean to—”

“I’m sorry,” he
interrupted. “I’m not used to talking about…anything other than
swimming, really.”

“No, I should respect
your privacy.” Damn Tori and her advice. Chase and I had had such a
nice thing going between us, so easy and warm with just the right
dash of flirtation. Then I’d gone and frozen things up.

“I would, ah…” He
searched for words, sounding distraught. “I would like to get to
know you better.”

“Oh.” That wasn’t
what I expected him to say. He took a step toward me, almost closing
the gap between us and he had that burning, intense look in his eyes.
I could almost feel myself swaying toward him.

“Emma.” He reached
out a hand and drew it lightly under my chin, grazing my bottom lip
with the pad of his thumb. With his gaze fixed on my mouth, he licked
his lips.

“I should go.” The
words that came out of me were completely at odds with my body. I had
to ball my hands into fists to stop myself from reaching out and
wrapping them around his broad, hard shoulders, digging my fingers
into his muscles, drinking in his kiss like my life depended on it.

“You should go,” he
breathed, giving me such a low, sexy, heavy look I bet we were
fogging up the windows. He could have me stripped naked and
underneath him in ten seconds flat. I’d do my best to make it five.

But somehow I took a
step backward. And I didn’t knock into anything. If I had, he would
have reached out to steady me and then it would have been all over.
Any contact would have been like a match to a flame. Who knew when we
would have come up for air? He might not have even made it to Rio.

But one step away led
to two which somehow got me to the door, his gaze never leaving me.

I paused a moment, hand
on the door handle, giving myself one last pep talk about the
righteousness of leaving. I shouldn’t let things get messy. I
shouldn’t be unprofessional. I knew better than this. With a nod, I
managed to leave. Once the door clicked behind me, I let out the
breath I didn’t even know I was holding.

Damn, I hated acting in
my own best interest. Why couldn’t life be more like the romance
novels I enjoyed, where the bad boys always turned out to have a
heart of gold? Maybe Chase was one of those rare gems, the one in a
million with an undeservedly bad reputation? The guy who’d never
fallen for anyone before, until he met The One? Who would just happen
to be me, of course.

Not going to happen.
That kind of thing happened on my Kindle, not in real life. I’d had
some slap-in-the-face reminders of that. I wouldn’t go down that
path again. Especially not when I had so much at stake.

So what that standing
next to him intoxicated me, his masculine scent and the heat
radiating from his large, solid body making me literally weak in the
knees. It didn’t matter that the way he looked at me took my breath
away, the longing in his eyes matching my own. That sense that we had
a rare connection, that there was something between us deserving of
time, attention and lots and lots of wild sex? I had to tamp that
down.

It was just going to
take a lot of long runs to work out the excess energy. And cold
showers. Because I honestly didn’t know how much longer I could
hold out.

Chase

“Eighteen days, man!”
It was my buddy Liam on the phone. We’d known each other since we
were kids and the sound of his voice always took me back.

“Crazy, right?” I
shook my head. The games would be here before I knew it. Funny how
little stress I’d been feeling about that fact. Emma was fantastic
at keeping my mind occupied. If only I could get my body in on the
action, too.

“Guess what? I got
the time off.”

“No way!” Last we’d
spoken, he didn’t think he’d be able to make the trip to see me
swim. He had an all-access pass waiting for him, of course, plus I’d
happily cover his plane ticket, but the firehouse where he worked on
Naugatuck, a small island off the coast of Massachusetts, was so
short-handed during the height of tourist season he hadn’t thought
he could pull it off.

“Yeah, the guys made
it happen. I’ll see you in Rio, Chevy!” No one called me Chevy
but my old friends, the gang of four I’d grown up with. The summer
we’d been thirteen we’d all hung out watching classics like
Fletch
over and over
again. With a name like Chase, of course they had to nickname me
Chevy.

I could picture Liam,
so handsome and friendly and outgoing his nickname had become Magnum.
It had multiple meanings: larger-than-life, related to magnet as in
chick. And of course, all those re-runs of
Magnum
P.I.
we’d watched had sealed the deal with lady-killer
Tom Selleck and his sidekick mustache. Of us all, Liam was the most
approachable, the one who actually smiled and remembered people’s
names. And now he was coming to see me swim.

“That means a lot,
man.”

“I wouldn’t miss
it!” He had been there to cheer me on back when I was 18, too, in
Beijing. We’d been such kids then.

“I’ll send you the
dates. I couldn’t get the whole time off, but I think I’ll be
there for the last four days you swim.”

Sweet. I was lucky to
have a friend like Liam. A friend who’d saved my life. So chill and
normal and laid back, you wouldn’t think he had much in common with
me, Mr. Intense. But he was like the brother I’d never had.

My snobby parents
hadn’t exactly approved of my friends on the island where we spent
most of our summers. Well, they approved of Ian because he came from
old money, the type of family that owned authentic Van Goghs. Their
home on Naugatuck was one in a dozen family properties. To new money
like my parents, old money was as irresistible as catnip. But working
class Liam, the son of a fireman and a cook, and Jax, all tatted up,
the son of a construction worker and a hotel maid? No, they did not
make the cut. Especially after all the shit that went down with the
boat.

But Liam had remained
my truest friend, never letting me drop off his radar no matter how
much I got those horse blinders up and over my eyes. He always
managed to get right direct in my line of sight and wave real big.
Over here, dumbass. It’s your best friend. Lighten up.

He’d like Emma. He
wouldn’t try to hit on her, either. Liam was a class act. He’d be
able to tell right away, the way I felt for her, she was not on the
market.

Except, of course, she
was. Nothing had happened between us. Yet. But that constant drumbeat
in my head of “touch her, touch her” was getting louder and
louder. And all the reasons not to were getting pummeled like an
unprepared defense witness under cross-fire interrogation from a
highly-paid litigation attorney. She wasn’t distracting me from my
goal, pulling me off course, she was helping me reach it. And, yes,
on the surface it seemed undeniably cheesy and wrong to hit on your
physical therapist. But I wasn’t interested in a one-night stand
with this woman. One night would never be enough.

Liam and I talked for a
few more minutes, catching up, until he got called to do something at
the station house. And I, of course, had to head to another workout.

“OK, you go keep up
the pace. For now,” he warned me. “But remember, all work and no
play makes Jack a dull boy.” That had been another favorite of
ours,
The Shining
.
Talk about a classic flick.

“I know,” I
admitted.

“Once you win all
those gold medals we’re gonna shut down Rio.”

“I hear you, Magnum.”

“Shut. It. Down.”

“You’re sure you’re
up to it, old man? I’ve heard Rio parties pretty hard.”

“Then you better
bring your big boy pants.”

“You know I don’t
wear any pants.” Liam always gave me shit about the tiny little
Speedos I paraded around in. I was so used to it by now, I didn’t
even notice my constant state of near-nudity. Except when I was
around Emma.

“All right, it’s a
plan. And Chase, two things.” He paused and I listened. I could
tell from his more serious tone he had something to say. “When
these games are done, you’re gonna need to get yourself a life.”

“OK, Dad.” I
sounded dismissive, but I knew he was right.

“But until they’re
over, swim fast.”

“Always do. Now you
go save some lives.”

“You bet.”

He’d found the
perfect job for himself, the hero every day, a professional rescuer
responding to emergency calls as a firefighter. What would I do with
myself after the games were over? I might train for another Olympics.
I knew it could be done. At the next games I’d be 30, on the older
side for peak competition, but it wouldn’t be impossible. Honestly,
I hadn’t given it much thought. I’d been so focused on eight days
in Rio when I’d swim my nine events, five individual—the 400 IM,
200 and 400 freestyle plus 200 and 400 butterfly—and four relays.
The years afterward had barely crossed my radar.

My father seemed to
assume I’d follow in his footsteps. He managed a hedge fund in
Boston. It would be the path of least resistance, and he made a
bundle from it. But it was hard for me to imagine waking up every day
and being motivated by that. He got a thrill from money that I’d
never experienced. He claimed it was because I was spoiled and had
never known life without it. He might be right, but that didn’t
change the fact that I wasn’t motivated by amassing money. Swimming
was my lifeblood, what drove and fueled me. Maybe there’d be some
way to do that professionally, coaching or running a swim facility,
or something else I hadn’t thought of yet. I wondered what Emma
would suggest.

Emma. She was never far
from my mind. But I still didn’t know much about her. I’d frozen
right up when she’d tried to talk to me last night. I’d had years
of experience not opening up, shutting people down. It was like an
automatic reflex. I wasn’t even sure I knew how to go about doing
things differently. But she made me want to try.

There was something so
humble and sweet about her. She downplayed her own athleticism, but I
knew she pushed herself, set her own goals and worked toward them.
But she struck me as balanced, too, with a peaceful sort of calm at
her center. No, I didn’t know much about her yet, but I knew I
loved being around her.

She felt so good, her
skin silky smooth, her hair velvety soft when she wore it down at
night. I couldn’t help stealing every opportunity I could to touch
her. It was like a fever building in me, burning me up. I knew we’d
fit together, she and I, her perfect breasts in my hands, her
straddling me as I took her against the wall or in the shower or over
and over again in bed.

OK. Time to go workout.
With a massive erection. I adjusted myself and pulled on baggy
athletic shorts and a loose T-shirt to hit the gym. We were due to
leave San Antonio in three days. After a weekend off, we’d all meet
up again at another training facility in Georgia. Our original plans
to head to Rio early had been changed due to concerns over the Zika
virus, so we’d be staying in the U.S. until the first of August.

I grabbed a water
bottle and headed out into the mid-day near-100-degree heat and
humidity. It was a good day to stay indoors, especially if you had
the right person with you under the right set of circumstances. I was
sure Emma and I could find lots of ways to enjoy my hotel room. But
that wasn’t happening, at least not at the moment, so I chose the
next best option: pounding it out at the gym.