01 - The Heartbreaker (14 page)

He let out a long, tortuous groan. She was baiting him bit by bit, making him wait, increasing his desire. He didn’t know how long he could play by her rules, looking and not touching, wanting and not being able to satisfy his need. He leaned against the high chest of drawers near the wall, welcoming the support, because this woman could bring him to his knees if he let her.

He met her sparkling green gaze. “You’re killing me.”

“That’s not in the plans.” She hooked her fingertips in the waistband of her panties. “Because if I kill you, you’ll miss the best part.”

He laughed, folding his arms over his chest. “It’s just an expression, babe.” He shot her a wry grin. “I’m up for anything you have to offer.”

“I can see that.” She lowered her gaze to the bulge in his jeans and shimmied her hips, giving him a real show as she pulled the panties down and off, tossing them his way.

Now she was naked on his bed, leaning against his pillows, and beckoning to him with a crook of one finger. “Come and get me, Chase.”

Between the come-hither look in her eyes and the seductive way her body called out to him, his restraint fled. He undressed in seconds, meeting her on the bed, making sure that his body met hers in the most intimate way on first contact. His groin pressed against her flesh, feeling her moist, damp heat. Chase wasn’t sure whose groan sounded louder in the otherwise silent room, but the noise was damn arousing.

Especially for a man who’d been on the edge all day. He closed his eyes and saw the moment Samson’s house went up in flames.
When he opened them again, Sloane stared back at him, wide-eyed and waiting.

“When that house exploded, I thought you were inside,” he said gruffly. “I thought I’d lost you.” He brushed her hair off her face and tried to memorize each and every feature. “You took twenty years off my life.”

“And when I saw you standing outside the house, you added twenty years to mine.”

At her words, every part of him swelled—his heart, his body, his mind. Nothing mattered except doing as she said, joining with her and making them both feel alive.

The time for foreplay was over. He covered her mouth with his and, at the same time, thrusted hard and deep inside her.

Sloane inhaled and took all of him. She couldn’t believe she’d been so bold, so brazen. But with Chase, she not only had no problem asking for what she wanted, but she also felt safe and secure in doing so. He pulled back slowly, only to rear forward again, and her body registered every slick inch, every hard movement. She clenched her thighs tighter and sensation rocked through her, taking her higher and higher, closer to climax, someplace she didn’t want to go alone.

Still feeling bold, she reached down to where their bodies met. For a brief moment, she savored the thrusting motion, letting the texture of their joined bodies arouse her mind too.

“God, you do something to me,” he murmured.

She opened her eyes. “Yeah, you’re doing something pretty incredible to me.” Her hips arched upward as if to back up her claim.

Tipping his head down, he licked at her breast, then suckled one nipple into his warm mouth. Her body shuddered at the erotic sensation, and when his teeth lightly grazed the distended tip, she arched off the mattress, pulling his penis all the way inside her needy body. He plunged deep and deeper still, until she
felt him filling not just her femininity but something more, something she dare not name.

Apparently, he felt the same sensational waves, because he let out a low growl, one coming from deep in his throat as he began a steady pumping motion that brought them both to the edge fast and quick. Sloane knew she was losing control, yet she wanted to feel more. She discovered that if she held her breath, the waves spiraled higher and surrounded her in complete ecstasy. She inhaled once more, catching her breath. A cascade of bright light and amazing, exquisite pleasure took over, until the world seemed to explode. At the same moment, he found his release, his hips grinding in a circular motion, his big body trembling, shaking around hers.

By the time she came back to earth, her breathing wasn’t just shallow, she was gasping for air. She leaned her head back and sighed. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” His voice sounded gruff and not all that steady either.

She grinned. She hadn’t been kidding earlier when she spoke of still waters. He was a man of few words, something she was coming to appreciate about him. She laid her head on his chest, listening to the quiet sound of his heartbeat, and marveled at the calming effect he had on her in the midst of a life crisis.

His big hands smoothed the back of her hair and she reveled in the luxurious feeling of being cared for. “Mmm,” she purred, but she wasn’t oblivious to her promise. “About Samson . . .” she said, ready to talk.

“Shh. It’s late and you’ve had a long day.”

His words surprised her. “But I know you’re wondering.”

“Are you going anywhere?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then go to sleep and we’ll talk in the morning. Unless driving to Yorkshire Falls, nearly being in an explosion, and wrestling with bikers is your idea of a normal, relaxing day.” Behind his wry tone, she sensed his concern. Beyond that, she
sensed his innate belief that she would indeed be beside him in the morning, ready and willing to answer his questions.

“Thank you,” she murmured, appreciating his understanding more than he could possibly know. She’d had too little trust given to her lately, especially by the people closest to her.

“You’re more than welcome. Now sleep,” he said in a rough voice. Pushing her hair aside, he kissed her neck and held her close.

His strength and emotional understanding let her relax, and she yawned, curling against his warm skin, waiting for sleep to come. As he said, tomorrow would be soon enough for answers.

Sloane awoke to find Chase’s arms still tight around her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so soundly and knew she had the man beside her to thank. She turned in his arms to find his blue eyes studying her.

A smile tilted her lips as she traced his profile with one finger.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he said at last, pulling her until her body was aligned with his.

“Used to chattering women, are you?” She bit the inside of her cheek, wishing she could withdraw the dumb, blithe joke. Nothing was funny about Chase and other women.

“Actually, I’m not used to women at all. Discretion, remember? No one came here and I never stayed over.”

But he’d let her stay last night. She arched toward him, her breasts crushing into his chest, his musky warmth cocooning her in delicious heat. “Sounds lonely.”

Though she’d have hated to imagine him in an emotionally intense relationship, she didn’t want him alone either. He deserved so much more out of life, considering how much he’d given in return.

“You get used to it.” He placed a warm, lingering kiss on her lips. “But it’s too damn easy to get used to this too.”

Her heart leaped at his words, even as she cautioned herself
against thinking he meant anything by it. Changing the subject was the smartest route. Ironically, the more dangerous subject of her real father seemed the safest topic.

One she was ready to share with him, and Sloane instinctively knew it was because he’d invaded a small part of her heart. “Chase?”

“Hmm?”

“Samson, whoever . . . whatever he is . . . He’s my real father.”

“What?” Obviously shocked by her admission, Chase slid out of her grasp, bolting to a sitting position.

Before she could explain, a loud knocking sounded from the far side of the apartment. “Chase? Are you up yet? We need you downstairs.”

“Damn. It’s Lucy.” He stood and grabbed for his jeans. “She’s my right hand at the paper,” he said to Sloane. “Hang on, I’ll be right out,” he yelled over his shoulder. He snapped his jeans and explained while he dressed. “Technically, I’m still on vacation, but they know I’m back and apparently they need me.” He glanced Sloane’s way, obviously torn. How could he not be after the bombshell she’d just dropped on him?

“Go. I’ll still be here when you get back,” she promised.

His blue eyes met hers, deep and questioning. “And you’ll finish explaining?”

She nodded and pulled the covers up over her. “I brought the subject up, didn’t I? I’m not about to bail on you now.”

He inclined his head in silent acceptance, then turned and headed out, shutting the bedroom door behind him and leaving her alone. Sloane leaned back against the still-warm sheets. All around her, she could feel Chase’s presence, feel how much he wanted her.

Too bad he only wanted her for as long as she was in Yorkshire Falls. Because deep down, Sloane had a hunch that she’d give him much more, if only he’d ask.

Chase’s
Gazette
staff was comprised of good people with exceptional abilities, but because he’d been so hands-on over the years, they’d never once gone to press without his okay. Many times the front-page story was as mundane as a town meeting or as huge as a national tragedy. Then there were special occasions when Yorkshire Falls news led the day. The panty thief had been the last prime example, when his brother Roman had been pegged as the town Lothario due to a childhood prank and ridiculous coincidence. The newest headlines had happened yesterday. The
Gazette
was a weekly, and this week, Samson’s house explosion would lead the news.

Samson—Sloane’s father. Chase pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to process that bit of truth. And since they’d had no time to talk before being interrupted, he could only draw his own conclusions now.

Sloane was in Yorkshire Falls, looking for Samson Humphrey, a man she’d never met. His house had blown up, and Chase’s staff wanted to know why the police department—Rick Chandler in particular—wasn’t releasing the name of the woman who’d witnessed the explosion. Because Chase had asked Rick to put a lid on Sloane’s identity. He didn’t want the paper running the news that Senator Carlisle’s daughter was at a potential crime scene, or any other scene that would bring the national press to Yorkshire Falls. Chase refused to create a scandal. At least not until he knew more facts.

The only additional points he knew involved Madeline Carlisle, who had asked Chase to look out for Sloane. She’d also promised him not just an interview, but a possible exclusive in return. “If any information needs to come from my husband’s camp, you’ll be given it first,” she’d assured him. Then that damn explosion and Sloane’s revelation. All connected somehow, he was sure.

And the answers lay with the woman upstairs in his bed.

She had his loyalty, for reasons he wasn’t ready to dissect or name. “Lucy,” he called.

She came running, spry despite her years, which was just one reason she and Raina got along so well. “Yes, boss?”

“Tell them, since the cops aren’t talking, to only use the term
unidentified woman
. No speculation, no description. No matter what they think they know,” he added pointedly.

She nodded. “Mind if I ask you a question?”

“Since when do you need my permission?” he asked with a grin.

Lucy had been at Chase’s side since the day he’d taken over the paper, and at his father’s side before that. She spoke her mind, didn’t hold back, and had free access to his apartment in case he was needed. Something that would have to change with Sloane around.

She tucked a pencil behind her ear without disrupting her neatly bobbed hair. “This is a key issue.”

He sighed in resignation. “What do you want to know, Luce?”

“Well, the staff’s been taking bets.” She rocked on her heels, not meeting his gaze. “Sort of like an office pool.”

He raised one eyebrow. “What’s the subject?” he asked, though he had a hunch he already knew.

“Seeing as how you never brought a lady home with you before, the boys are wondering if this is the one.”

Chase had always kept his private life private. Hell, in this town, if he’d brought a woman to sleep in his bed and stay over night, every citizen would know. He’d been involved with Cindy for so long, their affair confined to her place, he’d been able to keep his private life private, and people like Lucy and his meddling mother wondering.

Which was why he should have known better than to think he could let Sloane stay upstairs and not have anyone get wind of it. He shook his head and muttered, “Shit.”

Lucy remained unfazed. “Meanwhile, I thought since you and
I go way back, you could give me the inside scoop,” she said in a hushed voice. “Remember now, I’m the one who actually heard her in your bedroom.”

To his shock, Chase felt his cheeks burn. Discussing his sex life with Lucy was as bad as discussing it with his mother. And with Lucy’s penchant for gossip and long-standing friendship with Raina, it was tantamount to the same thing. The news would be shared by morning.

“Lucy?” he said in a voice distinct with warning.

She caught his inflection and saluted. “Yes, boss. I’m getting right back to work.” But he heard her laughter all the way down the hall.

Chase made sure Ty Turner, the man he’d left in charge, had things under control, knew to beep him with any questions on the explosion piece, but to handle everything else himself. A solid hour had passed by the time he finally walked back into his bedroom, hoping for answers.

But Sloane wasn’t there. She’d left a note saying she’d gone to pick up something to eat, since his refrigerator was bare of breakfast food. While he waited, he lay down in his clothes and let himself rest. He trusted that she’d be back and his questions
would
be answered.

Chase had done so much for Sloane in a short time, breakfast was a small way to thank him. And talking would come easier over food, enabling her to keep her hands busy while she admitted her secrets.

She walked into Norman’s at nine
A
.
M
. sharp and was greeted at the door by Izzy, wearing the same white apron from yesterday, her hair pulled back in a bun.

“I knew you’d be back.” The woman gave Sloane a hug as if they were old friends. “I’m glad you’re in one piece. I never would have sent you over to that old coot Samson’s if I’d known
the house was going to blow up like that.” Izzy squeezed her harder, her relief obvious.