For Seven Nights Only (Chase Brothers) (10 page)

Chapter Eleven

Kelsie got up early Sunday and took Marmaduke for a walk. She intentionally avoided the dog park she’d visited with Sawyer, opting instead to head toward the water. The Pier 6 Dog Run was nearly empty, but Marmaduke was content to trot beside her on the leash, so she skipped Pier 6 in favor of a stroll along the East River. Normally she loved the view, but today she barely saw it.

All she saw was Sawyer. And it hurt.

But
why
? She’d yet to figure out what her problem was. Amazing sex? Check. Incredibly hot guy who worshipped every inch of her body? Double check. But therein was the lie. He
worshipped
a different woman every week. She wasn’t so much bothered by his past but by the fact that she couldn’t trust anything between them. Sure, he made her feel good, but he probably recycled those lines on every woman he met. And bedded. And she should have known better—she
did
know better—but that didn’t stop that hollow little hole from expanding into something suffocating. She’d told him from the beginning things wouldn’t get physical between them, and they had. She couldn’t exactly accuse him of dragging her kicking and screaming into an affair—she’d practically
begged
for it—but if he could win her over, he was the ultimate player.

And she’d just gotten played.

Marmaduke barked ferociously at a discarded paper cup, dragging her from her thoughts. She sighed and picked up the trash, dropping it in a nearby receptacle and nearly bumping into a man when she turned back toward the path.

“Excuse me,” she said automatically.

“Kelsie?”

She looked up at the vaguely familiar voice. It belonged to a man she’d worked with recently as part of her contract to bolster his firm’s online presence. “Derek?”

“You remembered me.” His face relaxed into a boyish grin.

Oh, Lord, she definitely remembered him. She’d crushed on him in a bad way, but she had a thing against getting involved with business contacts, especially while on rebound from the crash and burn of a long-term relationship.

“And this must be Marmaduke.”

“You remembered my dog?” she asked, astounded.

“Background image on your phone, right?”

“Ah, yes.” She was shocked. She’d had no idea this guy had looked twice at her, at least not beyond what was required of his job. Although, now that he mentioned it, she did remember him asking about her dog after catching sight of her screen. Sawyer couldn’t get the dog’s name right minutes after hearing it, and this guy remembered for
months
.

“Listen,” he said. “I’m glad I bumped into you. I’ve been thinking about you, actually, and if you’re not seeing anyone, I’d love to take you out sometime.”

Her breath caught. This was it. She could have a date for her sister’s wedding and avoid the whole awkward let’s-pretend-we’re-friends with Sawyer.

But she couldn’t, and not just because Sawyer had said she was different.

It was because on some likely foolish level, she believed him.

She would kick herself later. She knew it. But she just
couldn’t
. “I’m flattered, Derek, but I’m not exactly single.”

He cocked a brow. “Not exactly? Sounds interesting.”

She sighed. “Definitely complicated, but I just don’t feel right…”

He smiled so kindly that she felt bad about turning him down. “I have mad appreciation,” he said, “for a woman who respects her man even when it’s complicated. If you find yourself back out there and you’d like to have dinner or something, look me up.”

“I’ll do that,” she said. “Thank you.”

He leaned down to scratch Marmaduke’s head.

The dog didn’t make a sound.

Derek took the first several steps of his retreat backward, a grin on his face. Then he gave a little wave and took off at a jog.

“You could have growled at him,” she muttered to Marmaduke. But the Chihuahua had only growled at one person. Ever.

Sawyer.

With a sigh, she turned and headed back home. After a hot shower, she tugged on a sweater and a long, flowing skirt that clung to nothing—Sawyer would probably hate it—then worried there’d be a dress code at his mom’s. Why hadn’t she asked?
Because you were both naked.

And she
still
ached. But after an embarrassingly long sexual drought, it came as no surprise that she couldn’t get her knees back together after an all-night sex-a-thon. What she hadn’t expected was the incredible sensitivity of her nipples, or the way every brush with fabric made them strain, as if getting hard enough would bring back the warmth of his mouth. She hadn’t expected the tingle—or nuclear blast—of heat that jolted her when she thought of his body or the way it melded with hers. She hadn’t dreamed she could accommodate a man of his size, but they’d fit together perfectly. All that deliciously sore flesh he’d stretched now yearned for him, and she had no idea how to shake that off. Maybe there was a support group. Or a support
legion
.

She gave in and texted him.
Dress code for dinner?

His reply was immediate.
Naked works for me.

She rolled her eyes.
At your mom’s?

Oh
, he replied.
Casual. Something I can rip off later
.

She left her phone on the counter and went to dig through her closet, eventually settling on a long skirt. No sense in making a bad impression.

No point in making a good one
.

Shut. Up. She was still a guest—one, she realized, without a proper hostess gift. But she did have brownie mix. Surely she couldn’t screw
that
up. Quickly she mixed the ingredients, then dumped them in a pan as a knock sounded at the door. Frowning, she looked at the clock. Too early to be Sawyer, and she hadn’t buzzed anyone in. She took a moment to set the oven timer, slid the pan in the oven, then went to the door and peered through the hole.

Sawyer.

She swung the door open. “You’re early. Second thoughts?”

He responded by capturing the back of her head with one hand and backing her against the wall. Before the plaster even hit her back, his mouth was on hers. The kiss was hard. Demanding. Erotic. She heard the door slam—he must have kicked it—then he was lifting her. In one svelte move, the skirt was bunched around her hips, and his finger was inside her, strumming her G-spot and bringing so much pleasure she thought she’d cry. She suddenly felt boneless, but between him and the wall, she was stuck in a tornado of bliss. Tremors took over her body, then his thumb hit her clit, and she actually screamed his name.

“Shh,” he murmured, the word tripped by quiet laughter. He eased away from the wall, but he didn’t set her down. It was a good thing, because she probably would have hit the floor. After stopping to lock the door, he carried her into her bedroom and tossed her playfully on the bed, then landed on top of her.

“Now that I have your attention,” he said, “I think we need to make a few things clear.”

“We do?”

“One, you’re amazing in bed. I haven’t thought of anything else since. No tips needed. Not a damn one.”

The words clung to her in the worst way. Made her want. Gave her hope. Set her up for the
worst
fall. She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. “Sawyer Chase, renowned playboy, has been thinking about sex. This is news?”

“I’ve been thinking about
you
, sweetheart. Which brings us to point number two. I don’t want you thinking that was all part of a game.”

“You don’t play games,” she reminded him. “You have sex; you move on.”

“This time I count to seven first.”

Something silly—something like hope—bloomed. “Can I get a written affidavit?”

“You can spread your legs. Now.”

She almost laughed. Then she caught the look in his eyes. “Are you serious?”

“I’m serious that I want you. If you aren’t interested, say the word. Otherwise, yes, I’m serious.”

“But dinner…”

“Sweetheart, I’ve done nothing but think of you since I last crawled out of this bed. I promise it won’t take long.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, when you put it like that, at least take off my skirt so I can wear it later.”

He obliged, then shed his pants. Sort of. They landed somewhere around his ankles. By then, he had already rolled on a condom and found her wet and ready for him.

The moment he entered her felt like coming home. The sweetly familiar length overtook her, and her body quickly picked up where the last orgasm still lingered. The build happened quickly, and just like that, she was clutching his back while he moved inside her, the pure electrification of orgasm teasing her as surely as he pumped, heavy and thick, between her legs.

Having him there filled a void that had nothing to do with anatomy—not even one as impressive as his. His utter possession of her body threatened to wreck her, and she knew he wouldn’t be around to pick up the pieces. But she cherished the ride anyway.

He fastened onto one of her nipples, and the sudden shock made her cry out. And drag him in closer. She was crazy.
Crazy
. But the way he feasted, pinching and sucking and nibbling, she’d be just as crazy to say no. Fortunately she wouldn’t have to. He’d move on to someone else in no time, and she’d be left there with her memories.

The thought stung. She pushed it away and lifted her hips, changing the angle at which he drove into her.

“Christ, Kelsie.” He grunted and slammed into her harder, then harder still. He’d elevated her whimpering G-spot orgasm from earlier into the equivalent of a tidal wave. For a moment, she felt like a casual observer, standing on the beach, realizing by the unusual pull of the water that something big was about to happen, but having no concept of its depth. Not even when the wall began to come down did it really hit her. Nope, not until she was caught in the mother of all riptides, sputtering and gasping for air, unsure of which way to claw for salvation, did she realize just how deep she was in it.

And he in her. It went beyond physical. It scared her, but she wasn’t sure which was worse…running toward him, or running away. Her sense of preservation had gotten lost in the haze of orgasm, and she wasn’t sure she wanted out.

“That was amazing,” she said. Her ears rang. Her pinkie toe twitched. He’d even rocked the polish off her right ring finger. She’d
definitely
never experienced a thrust that could do that.

“I noticed.” He grinned, then flipped to his back, dragging her with him. She landed on top, and he quickly pulled her down. They were still connected, yet another new angle added to their shared repertoire. But she didn’t have time to reflect on that, because he’d started a sensual exploration of her mouth that made her want to weep. He wound his tongue with hers, alternately sucking her in, then teasing her with light kisses. Without thinking, she was moving on top of him, the incredible length and girth of his erection managing to touch her everywhere at once.

“Fuck.” He hissed a breath when she increased the movement, driving her hips just enough for him to feel it without losing the sensual pace.

“You really need to expand your vocabulary,” she teased. As she spoke, she sat back and ground her hips in a circular motion, nearly losing it when the penetration deepened.

“Where did you learn to move like that?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have one. With him, it just felt right.

He planted his hands on her hips and rocked her, literally and figuratively. Immediately, she discovered she had nothing to hold, so she threw back her head and let him keep the pace while she ground hard against him until pleasure once again tore through her, leaving her a muddled mess. He flipped her to the side, then lazily pumped his hips against her, riding out his orgasm while looking into her eyes.

Oh. God.

He smiled gently, the look of an utterly satisfied man. Knowing that she’d done that to him sent a funny little thrill through her.

“I’ve never really made out for days with anyone,” he said softly. Her eyes must have expressed her confusion, because he elaborated. “Not during sex. It feels too close.”

“So what are you doing kissing me?”

“I don’t—what’s that noise? And that smell?”

“Uh-oh.” She scrambled away from him, threw on a T-shirt—his, she realized after the fact—and ran to the kitchen to take out the brownies. Cautiously, she sniffed the pan. They didn’t smell too bad. Buoyed, she snagged a toothpick off the shelf and poked the center of the pan. It went in, sort of, so that was a good sign. “Good.”

“What’s good?”

She jumped at Sawyer’s voice behind her, then immediately relaxed into the embrace that followed. He was naked, and his dick nudged at her butt. “Not happening,” she warned.

“What’s not happening?”

“Round three. We have somewhere to be.
Your
somewhere, I might add.”

“Yeah, right.” He peered over her shoulder. “Wow, I’m impressed.”

“Really?”

“Homemade dog treats? You bet I am.”

She jabbed her elbow into his washboard abs. “Dogs can’t have chocolate, you jerk.”

“That’s
chocolate
?” He appeared utterly bewildered.

“Brownies,” she explained. “For your mom’s.”

“Um…”

“Smile and nod, Sawyer Chase. It’s a boxed mix. I handled it.”

He grinned and planted a kiss on her neck. “You rock my world, sweetness. You sure you don’t want to fuck?”

She rolled her eyes and headed for the bedroom, where her clothes were likely hopelessly wrinkled. “You sure you don’t want to expand your vocabulary?”

“I beg your pardon,” he said, hot on her heels. “I
excel
in expanding parts.”

Marmaduke looked up from the bed when they entered. He cocked his head at Sawyer and proceeded to show his teeth. His body shook with the force of his growl.

“What’s the matter there, Minidick? Got some penis envy going on?”

“No wonder he hates you.”

“Why?” His eyes danced. “Because he thinks I’m a god?”

“He is not the least bit interested in your penis.”