The Chase Read online

  What I do know is that Hart claims he was madly in love with my mother, and that he’d wanted to be a father to me, until he’d lost her. After that, he said he hadn’t been fit to be a parent, drowning in the bottom of a bottle until he nearly lost the company he’d worked so hard to build.

  ‘I was . . . broken, for a long time, after Sarah’s death,’ he’d said, sitting on the chair that Emmy grabbed for him from her little dining set, while she and I sat on the sofa. ‘And by the time I’d managed to sober up, I figured you were better off where you were. I was a recovering alcoholic, and Alistair had remarried. I thought you’d have a more stable life there. One of not only wealth, but privilege.’

  ‘Shit. You think money and privilege make for a loving childhood?’ I’d growled, unable to keep the fury out of my voice.

  He’d sighed, looking as if he were aging ten years right before my eyes. ‘To be honest, Jase, and it kills me to say this, but I kept my distance because I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing her in you. Hell, it took everything I have just to come here today, so that I could finally tell you the truth.’

  I’d had to laugh, seeing as how it was either that or hit the bastard. And then I told him to get out, and he’d gone without an argument.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about what Hart said there at the end,’ I say to Emmy, and I can feel the gentle touch of her gaze against my rigid profile as I stare out over the coastline. ‘About how he couldn’t stand the thought of seeing her in me, and it made me remember.’

  Softly, she asks, ‘Remember what?’

  ‘The eerie way I’d sometimes catch my mother staring at me. I remember feeling as if she weren’t really seeing me, but someone else, and then this incredible wave of sadness would come over her. I’ve always thought it was her depression, and that I somehow caused her distress. But what if . . . Fuck, what if she’d been seeing Hart in me? The man she supposedly loved, but for whatever reason, had refused to leave Alistair for.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Jase.’

  I squeeze her hand and we both look up ahead as we hear music begin to play. There’s some sort of gourmet food festival being set up right on the beach, and with The White Stripes’ ‘Seven Nation Army’ carrying on the breeze, I link our fingers together and head that way, seeing a sign for what they claim is the world’s best margarita.

  ‘Come on,’ I say to Emmy, deciding it’s time to lighten the mood. ‘I think I see a drink with my girl’s name on it.’

  EMMY

  We’ve been back up in the room for an hour or so now, the delicious, over-sized margarita I’d had at the mini gourmet food festival making me too mellow to work. Instead, I’ve lounged on the comfortable sectional sofa that sits before the open balcony doors, content to simply play on my new phone, while surreptitiously watching Jase as he rapidly types on his laptop.

  Last week, when I’d first seen Jase Beckett on that stuffy Tube car in London, he’d just been this beautiful fantasy that had stolen my breath. But now he’s . . . God, he’s so much more. That gorgeous exterior of his is such a small, insignificant part of who he is. Back then, I’d had no idea about his generosity and his sharp intellect. His clever wit and his dirty sense of humor. Had no idea that he could look at me in a way that makes me feel ridiculously happy. Whole. Alive. He’s making me a better person just by being close to me, and I know that if I have any brains at all, I’ll never leave him again. That I’ll stick by him, through the good and the bad that life brings, sharing the ups and the downs with him.

  And I have a feeling that with Jase by my side, the good will always outweigh the rest.

  Still, this is the real world, and the reality is that there will be times when things are hard. There always are. Pain doesn’t touch only the poor and the needy. Pain is a brush that has the ability to paint everyone equally. Sure, some might get missed by its heavier strokes. But no one is safe from it, no matter how much money they might have to throw at the world.

  His phone starts to ring from its place on the sofa beside him, and when he glances down at it he says, ‘Damn, it’s Martin.’

  He moves to his feet as he answers the call, then walks into the bedroom. From this distance, his voice is too muffled for me to make out what he’s saying, but I can tell from his tense tone that it isn’t good news.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ I ask when he comes back into the sitting room, his jaw so rigid it looks as if it’s been carved from granite.

  ‘You mean other than the fact that I’ve just learned Cameron is trying to weasel his way into a takeover of my build in Thailand?’

  ‘Holy shit!’ I say as I move to the edge of the cushions, outraged on his behalf.

  He scrapes a hand back through his hair and sighs. ‘Sorry. I know I sound like a dick, but I’m fucking furious.’

  I bite my lip, hating to see him upset. And then I take a deep breath, and force myself to say, ‘Do you need to go back? Because if you did, I would hate it, but I’d understand.’

  He gives me such a fierce, intense look, I swear I can feel its warmth pulsing against my skin. ‘I’m not leaving, Emmy. Martin is handling what needs to be handled there, and I can use a phone here just as easily as I can in London. I’ve already set up a few video conferences that will take place in the morning.’

  ‘Well, would it help if I went back to my apartment?’

  ‘Fuck, no,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘I’d just follow you back there, and we’ve got more privacy here.’

  ‘You’re sure?’ I ask.

  He walks over and leans down, forcing me to lean back as he braces his hands against the top of the sofa, caging me in, and there’s a determined glint in his deep blue eyes as he says, ‘I don’t want to sound too possessive, sweetheart, but like hell am I letting you leave me.’

  ‘I’m not talking about leaving you,’ I say. ‘I’m just letting you know that I understand if you need some space.’

  ‘I flew over five and a half thousand miles to be here with you, Em. The last thing I want is space.’

  ‘Okay,’ I whisper. ‘Then I’ll stay.’

  His gaze gets heavy, as if my words have soothed him, and he gives me a wicked little smile. ‘You know, there’s a tub in the bathroom the size of a small swimming pool. Would you like to soak for a bit while I finish up my calls?’ He lowers his head, brushing his lips across my ear as he adds, ‘It might help with any aches you’re feeling.’

  I give a soft snicker, pushing against his shoulders until he lifts up enough that I can look him in the eye. ‘You say it all caring like, but I see right through you, Mr Beckett.’

  A husky laugh falls from those lips that are capable of giving me so much pleasure. ‘And just what do you see, Miss Reed?’

  ‘That you love making my tender bits sore.’

  His smile becomes a devilish grin. ‘You’ve caught me, Em. It’s one of my all-time favorite activities. One I feel I should devote the rest of my life to, seeing as how I’m so good at it and all.’

  I’m laughing by the time he leans down and kisses the hell out of me. His tongue strokes across mine like the sweetest sin, and I can feel the way he’s savoring me. Enjoying me. ‘Bath,’ he groans, nipping my lower lip, ‘and then I’m going to pull you out of the hot water and lick every inch of your pink little body from head to toe.’

  ‘Do I get to lick you back?’

  ‘Christ,’ he laughs, giving me another quick, hard kiss. ‘You’d better run, or I’m going to be fucking you in about two seconds flat, and then your bath will have to wait till tomorrow.’

  I quickly scoot out from between him and the sofa, a smile on my lips as I grab my bag and hurry into the bathroom.

  Within minutes, I have the tub full of tropical-scented bubbles, and as I lean my head back against its sloped edge, the jets swirling the water around my body in a warm, soothing massage, my thoughts are swirling too. I can’t stop thinking about how Jase is so determined to stay here with me, instead of running off to save his dea
l, the way my father has always done, and I’m ashamed that I ever tried to compare the two men.

  Yeah, Jase had hurt me with his stupid offer while we were in Kent – but before that, he’d been nothing but wonderful. And since showing up at my apartment yesterday morning, which feels like a lifetime ago, he’s made it clear that his focus is me and building a relationship with me. One that certainly won’t be easy, given that we live in two different countries. But I have no doubt now that it will be entirely worth it. Whatever it takes – and I still haven’t figured things out that far ahead yet – but whatever it is, that’s what we’ll do. And if we work together, I truly believe we’ll be able to make this work.

  I also believe that when you want a man badly enough, you make the time for him, no matter how busy or determined you are to succeed. And that was okay, when he was willing to do the same. I mean, the guy was willing to travel halfway around the world for me. How much more serious and willing could he get?

  His calls must take longer than he’d planned, because I end up finishing with my soak before he ever comes in to collect me. Feeling clean and relaxed, I wrap myself in one of the hotel’s fluffy white robes and head back into the sitting room to look for Jase. He’s still on the phone, standing before the open balcony doors, the churning ocean glinting in the moonlight, and there’s a delicious smell filling the entire suite. As I look around, taking in the delivery bags by the door, and the sumptuous-looking feast that’s been laid out on the coffee table, I realize that he’s ordered dinner for us.

  I haven’t made a sound, but as if he can sense my presence, he looks over his shoulder, his dark eyes smoldering with hunger when they take in my scrubbed face, damp hair, and robe-clad body. It’s hardly a seductive ensemble, but something about it must appeal to him, because he quickly ends the call, looking like he’d rather eat me than the meal. There’s no way I’m letting this lovely spread go to waste though, so I tell him to sit. I hand him his plate, then settle down beside him and grab my own, a low moan on my lips when I take the first bite of my mouthwatering seafood risotto.

  We talk about easy, simple things as we eat, debating what movie we should go and see this weekend, and if we want to try to catch a Padres game, since their new stadium isn’t far from here. But as we set our empty plates aside, and settle back on the cushions to enjoy the breathtaking view of the ocean through the balcony doors, I clear my throat a little, and finally ask him the question that’s been burning on the tip of my tongue since I woke up that morning. ‘Have you been tested? You know, since you were last with someone?’

  He turns his head so quickly I’m surprised he doesn’t get whiplash, and gives me a deep, searching look as he says, ‘I was tested two months ago. And I haven’t been with anyone since but you.’

  I wet my lips with the tip of my tongue. ‘The same for me. Well, it was last year, but I haven’t been with anyone since then except you.’

  He sets the soda he’s been drinking down on the coffee table, then turns to face me. ‘What are you trying to say, Em?’

  ‘Well,’ I murmur, reaching up and tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, ‘I’m on the pill.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah.’ My heart is pounding, but my voice is strong. ‘So if you want to do away with the condoms, I’m okay with that.’

  His chest expands as he pulls in a deep breath, and he rubs his palm over his mouth as he exhales in an audible rush. ‘I’ve never had sex without one.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  He looks at me like he’s already inside me, fucking my brains out. And then he moves to his feet, pulls his shirt over his head, and starts undoing his button fly as he says three low, gruff words that make me melt.

  ‘Open your robe.’

  JASE

  My shorts and boxers hit the floor at the same time, and I kick them away as I take my cock in my fist, squeezing to hold back the cum that’s already boiling in my heavy balls. The idea of fucking Emmy in the raw . . . It’s breaking me. Wrecking me. I’m nothing but sharp, visceral hunger, and I have no doubt that my control is already in shreds.

  But I want this to be good for her. I want it to be the best she’s ever had, ruining her for every other man but me, and so I suck in another deep breath and squeeze my fist even tighter, determined to do this right, and not fall on her like a ravening beast.

  ‘Now lie down and spread your legs, Em. Knees up and thighs as wide as they’ll go.’

  I haven’t even touched her yet, but she’s already panting as she follows my gritty command. Her beautiful cunt is shiny and pink, the plump folds still swollen from all the times I fucked her yesterday. I should get my mouth down there and lick her juicy little clit until she comes for me, softening her up. But as addicted as I am to her exquisite taste, the lure of feeling her slick, cushiony sheath on my bare dick is just too strong.

  I come down on the sofa with her, bracing myself on one arm with my hand planted by her shoulder, my other hand still holding tight to my cock. The pressure of my fist is making the veins bulge thicker beneath the dark skin, and I swear the heat and weight of her greedy gaze is making me even bigger. My heart pounds and my pulse thunders with anticipation, and I pray to God this isn’t going to be over too soon as I notch the wet head against her tiny, tender opening, and start working my way inside, one broad inch at a time. It feels so good that my eyes are burning, my throat tight, the sounds ripping up from my chest so guttural that I sound like an animal.

  In this moment, I’m nothing but primitive lust and blistering craving. She molds around me, so incredibly tight and hot and wet, her cunt sucking on me like she wants to pull the cum right out of me. Like she’s desperate for it. Like she needs it, and fuck but I need to give it to her.

  But first, I’m going to ride my beautiful girl until she comes so hard I can feel it down in my bones. Down in my goddamn soul.

  ‘You ready?’ I grunt, breathless, staring so deep into her luminous brown eyes that I’m falling into them.

  ‘So ready,’ she moans, her soft hands curling over my shoulders as she pulses her hips against me, and that’s it. I’m gone.

  I take her hard and fast and violent, our sweat-slick bodies pounding together as I fuck her so rough and deep I’m amazed I’m not slamming into her heart. I curl my hand around the back of her thigh and push it higher, hammering into her snug, wet clasp, and I can’t believe how different this feels without a condom. It’s like a thousand new nerve-endings in my cock have just come to life, and I know it’s more than just the fact that I’m bare-backing for the first time. It’s that I’m doing it with Emmy. That it’s her sweet, tight cunt that’s suddenly coming on me, squeezing me, drenching me, milking me, and I grind my teeth together so hard it’s a miracle I don’t crack a tooth as my orgasm erupts from me with explosive force. I’m heaving and shouting, my entire body shuddering as I blast her with hot, heavy streams again and again, as if my sole purpose in this world is to fill her up. To pack her so full of me, she can’t ever get me out.

  At some point, I collapse on top of her, completely spent, and I’m pretty sure she has to shove my torso a bit to the side so she can breathe. My dick stays thick inside her, but then it’s in heaven, so that’s really no surprise. But I scrounge what energy I can to move my lips, and ask, ‘You okay, baby?’

  ‘I’m wonderful,’ she breathes. Then she gives a little puff of laughter, and turns her head to smile at me. ‘I’m also sticky.’

  I manage to cup the side of her flushed, beautiful face in my hand, and say, ‘What you are is fucking perfect.’ Then I lean over and claim her soft, pink lips with a kiss that quickly shifts from gentle to blistering, and I’m wondering how swiftly I can carry her into the bedroom, needing to be able to twist and turn her curvy body into whatever position I want for round two, when I hear my phone start to ring. I ignore it, letting the call go to voicemail. But whoever it is just calls right back, and with a frustrated curse, I carefully pull out and sit up, kne
eling between her spread thighs, and I have no doubt that my expression is dark and raw with lust as I take her in. I can see my cum slipping out of her, glistening against her pink, swollen flesh, and I take a moment to simply soak in the breathtaking sight, committing it to memory, before I move to my feet and grab the bloody phone.

  ‘What?’ I snap, after seeing that it’s my father’s number.

  ‘Jase, this is Caroline. I realize you’re off playing with your little tramp in America, but I thought you might want to know that your father’s been admitted to the hospital.’

  I bite back the words, ‘He’s not my father.’ They catch me by surprise, because until this moment, I haven’t fully admitted to myself that I believe Hart’s story. But, hell, it’s not like I don’t look exactly like the guy.

  Unable to deal with that particular mind-fuck at the moment, I ask her what happened.

  ‘We don’t really know,’ she says airily. ‘Something to do with his liver and blood levels.’

  I give a short, wry laugh. ‘You mean he drank so much that he nearly killed himself.’

  ‘There’s no reason to be snide,’ she snaps.

  I briefly consider telling her that I know about the calls she’s made to the county councilors in London, but decide not to show my hand. Instead, I simply say, ‘If you need to relay any information in the future, go through Martin.’

  ‘I’m not calling your stupid assistant!’ she shouts. ‘Do you have any—’

  I disconnect the call, tossing the phone aside, and the thought passes through my head that this might be Caroline’s doing. That she’s so desperate to get me back in England, she could have damn well poured the gin down Alistair’s throat herself, once he’d drunk himself into a stupor, as he often does. It’s a twisted theory, but then this is Caroline, so who the fuck knows what she’s capable of.

  ‘What happened?’ Emmy asks, coming over and wrapping her arms around my waist, and I settle my hands on her naked back as I tell her.

  ‘Maybe I should be more concerned,’ I mutter, ‘but I’d be faking it. Alistair made his damn bed, and now he’s got to live in it. And I meant what I told them on Sunday. I’m done with their shit.’