Breathe
Page 40
Because I wondered what Chace would think about it.
And I hoped like all fraking heck that he’d like it.
A knock came at the door and I jumped.
Oh God, he was there.
Frak.
I closed the wardrobe door and secured it with the little latch, sucked in a huge breath and walked across my apartment belatedly thinking I should have had a glass of wine (or two) while I was getting ready.
I pulled off the chain, undid the deadbolt and opened the door.
Chace was wearing a heavy denim, western stitched, slimfit shirt that looked like it was once black but then it had been left out in the elements for a year and after dragged behind a truck for a thousand miles so it was now a dark, distressed gray. Once this was accomplished, it clearly had been blessed by a tough as nails ninety year old cowboy who could still lasso a steer going flat out on his horse and this blessing happened during a sacred rite like all clothing that was kickass should be.
Over it, Chace wore a well-tailored black wool sports jacket. Dark blue jeans. Black cowboy boots and a black tooled leather belt with a silver belt buckle with a subtle cow’s skull imprinted on it.
My mouth started watering and I had to curl my hand around the edge of the door to remain standing because my legs started trembling.
I lifted my eyes to his face and whispered, “Hi.”
At my voice sounding, his eyes, pointed down and aimed around my breast/midriff area, shot to mine.
Then, one second I was standing in the door, the next second I had my back against it, Chace against my front, one of his arms around my waist, one in my hair, cupping the back of my head and his tongue was in my mouth.
This was another, different, kind of kiss.
I thought the one in my office was deep, thorough and heated.
It had nothing on this.
It wasn’t only the delicious tongue action. There were heads slanting this way and that (both of ours). Hair being gripped (only mine) and gripped in a sexy way that pulled at my scalp rough but gentle and so hot I felt the area between my legs get wet. Hands were doing a lot of roaming (three of them, one of Chace’s, both of mine under his sports jacket).
It was wild. Abandoned. Rough. Wet. Intense. Fiery. Thorough. Exquisite. Heart-pounding. Blood-singing. Soul-rocking. Life-altering.
Luscious.
When Chace tore his mouth from mine, I actually felt it take a supreme effort for him to do it. His strong hand was cupping my behind. His other one was fisted in my hair. One of my arms was cocked, forearm and palm pressed flat against his lat, pulling him to me. My other arm was wound around his back, hand fisted in his shirt. Our breath was coming heavy, fast, mingling as it brushed our lips.
I slowly opened my eyes and at what I saw in his, another rush of wet surged between my legs and my fist in his shirt tightened.
Undone by the kiss, forlorn that it ended, mindlessly and idiotically I asked the first question that popped into my head.
“Do you like my dress?”
Chace’s head jerked even as he blinked. When his features righted he stared down at me half a second before his hand went out of my hair, his other one slid up my back and both of his arms closed around me super tight. He bent his head, shoved his face in my neck and burst out laughing.
I decided to take that as a yes.
* * * * *
Eleven seventeen that night
“I gotta go, baby,” Chace whispered against my lips.
We were making out, standing just inside my door. We’d arrived back about ten minutes ago. I still had my coat on, Chace his jacket. When we stepped in, he’d closed the door but immediately pulled me into his arms.
Dinner was fabulous (not a surprise). Conversation was easy. Smiles were frequent. Laughter the same.
In the car there and back, I found out Chace listened to country (also not a surprise) and it was good country.
Now the night was over.
And I really, really didn’t want it to be.
Still, I whispered back, “Okay.”
Chace didn’t move, not even his lips that were still a breath from mine.
“Good mornin’ call tomorrow.”
Goodie!
“Okay.”
“My turn for our kid but I didn’t have time to do anything.”
“That’s okay. On my lunch hour I bought him some more books, some comics, a flashlight, some batteries, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a few packs of gum, more water and some more candy bars. I also wrote the note and added a notepad and some pens so he could write back.”
I felt Chace’s smile against my lips at the same time I saw it in his eyes.
“I’ll take the weekend,” he offered.
“All right,” I accepted.
“We’ll win him, Faye.”
“Yeah,” I whispered.
“Want that mouth again before I go, baby. Soft this time,” he whispered back.
“Okay,” I breathed, got up on my toes and touched my lips gently to his hoping I was doing it right.
Then I moved back.
The gentle look in his eyes told me I did it right and I felt like the queen of the world.
He lifted his lips to kiss my nose, his arms gave me a squeeze then he let me go.
He turned to the door, had it open and was walking out when I called, “It was a really good night, honey, thank you.”
He turned back to me, his beautiful blue eyes hit mine and his face was solemn.
“No it wasn’t, Faye,” he replied and my heart squeezed. Then he finished quietly, “It was a f**kin’ great one.”
At that, my heart flipped.
Chace closed the door.
I stared at it.
Then I sucked in breath.
After that, I twirled, skip-danced to my bed, flopped back on it and smiled at the ceiling.
Huge.
Chapter Seven
Hazelnut Half and Half
“’Lo honey.”
Like every morning since the first, Chace’s dick, already hard, jerked at hearing Faye’s cute, drowsy, husky voice answering the phone.
“Mornin’ baby,” he replied.
“Catch any bad guys last night?”
It was Saturday morning, a week and two days after their date at The Rooster. Their dinner at the Italian place in town the night before had been cut short when he got a callout after someone got home and found their place had been burgled.
He and Faye had had a week and a half of early morning phone calls where she was cute, sleepy, innocently sexy and oftentimes funny. A week and a half of coffee and stakeouts, watching the kid grab bags of food, water, books and other items Faye or Chace deemed he needed. They’d had a week and a half where they’d had dinner together every night, going out or eating in at Faye’s place where she cooked.
And I hoped like all fraking heck that he’d like it.
A knock came at the door and I jumped.
Oh God, he was there.
Frak.
I closed the wardrobe door and secured it with the little latch, sucked in a huge breath and walked across my apartment belatedly thinking I should have had a glass of wine (or two) while I was getting ready.
I pulled off the chain, undid the deadbolt and opened the door.
Chace was wearing a heavy denim, western stitched, slimfit shirt that looked like it was once black but then it had been left out in the elements for a year and after dragged behind a truck for a thousand miles so it was now a dark, distressed gray. Once this was accomplished, it clearly had been blessed by a tough as nails ninety year old cowboy who could still lasso a steer going flat out on his horse and this blessing happened during a sacred rite like all clothing that was kickass should be.
Over it, Chace wore a well-tailored black wool sports jacket. Dark blue jeans. Black cowboy boots and a black tooled leather belt with a silver belt buckle with a subtle cow’s skull imprinted on it.
My mouth started watering and I had to curl my hand around the edge of the door to remain standing because my legs started trembling.
I lifted my eyes to his face and whispered, “Hi.”
At my voice sounding, his eyes, pointed down and aimed around my breast/midriff area, shot to mine.
Then, one second I was standing in the door, the next second I had my back against it, Chace against my front, one of his arms around my waist, one in my hair, cupping the back of my head and his tongue was in my mouth.
This was another, different, kind of kiss.
I thought the one in my office was deep, thorough and heated.
It had nothing on this.
It wasn’t only the delicious tongue action. There were heads slanting this way and that (both of ours). Hair being gripped (only mine) and gripped in a sexy way that pulled at my scalp rough but gentle and so hot I felt the area between my legs get wet. Hands were doing a lot of roaming (three of them, one of Chace’s, both of mine under his sports jacket).
It was wild. Abandoned. Rough. Wet. Intense. Fiery. Thorough. Exquisite. Heart-pounding. Blood-singing. Soul-rocking. Life-altering.
Luscious.
When Chace tore his mouth from mine, I actually felt it take a supreme effort for him to do it. His strong hand was cupping my behind. His other one was fisted in my hair. One of my arms was cocked, forearm and palm pressed flat against his lat, pulling him to me. My other arm was wound around his back, hand fisted in his shirt. Our breath was coming heavy, fast, mingling as it brushed our lips.
I slowly opened my eyes and at what I saw in his, another rush of wet surged between my legs and my fist in his shirt tightened.
Undone by the kiss, forlorn that it ended, mindlessly and idiotically I asked the first question that popped into my head.
“Do you like my dress?”
Chace’s head jerked even as he blinked. When his features righted he stared down at me half a second before his hand went out of my hair, his other one slid up my back and both of his arms closed around me super tight. He bent his head, shoved his face in my neck and burst out laughing.
I decided to take that as a yes.
* * * * *
Eleven seventeen that night
“I gotta go, baby,” Chace whispered against my lips.
We were making out, standing just inside my door. We’d arrived back about ten minutes ago. I still had my coat on, Chace his jacket. When we stepped in, he’d closed the door but immediately pulled me into his arms.
Dinner was fabulous (not a surprise). Conversation was easy. Smiles were frequent. Laughter the same.
In the car there and back, I found out Chace listened to country (also not a surprise) and it was good country.
Now the night was over.
And I really, really didn’t want it to be.
Still, I whispered back, “Okay.”
Chace didn’t move, not even his lips that were still a breath from mine.
“Good mornin’ call tomorrow.”
Goodie!
“Okay.”
“My turn for our kid but I didn’t have time to do anything.”
“That’s okay. On my lunch hour I bought him some more books, some comics, a flashlight, some batteries, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a few packs of gum, more water and some more candy bars. I also wrote the note and added a notepad and some pens so he could write back.”
I felt Chace’s smile against my lips at the same time I saw it in his eyes.
“I’ll take the weekend,” he offered.
“All right,” I accepted.
“We’ll win him, Faye.”
“Yeah,” I whispered.
“Want that mouth again before I go, baby. Soft this time,” he whispered back.
“Okay,” I breathed, got up on my toes and touched my lips gently to his hoping I was doing it right.
Then I moved back.
The gentle look in his eyes told me I did it right and I felt like the queen of the world.
He lifted his lips to kiss my nose, his arms gave me a squeeze then he let me go.
He turned to the door, had it open and was walking out when I called, “It was a really good night, honey, thank you.”
He turned back to me, his beautiful blue eyes hit mine and his face was solemn.
“No it wasn’t, Faye,” he replied and my heart squeezed. Then he finished quietly, “It was a f**kin’ great one.”
At that, my heart flipped.
Chace closed the door.
I stared at it.
Then I sucked in breath.
After that, I twirled, skip-danced to my bed, flopped back on it and smiled at the ceiling.
Huge.
Chapter Seven
Hazelnut Half and Half
“’Lo honey.”
Like every morning since the first, Chace’s dick, already hard, jerked at hearing Faye’s cute, drowsy, husky voice answering the phone.
“Mornin’ baby,” he replied.
“Catch any bad guys last night?”
It was Saturday morning, a week and two days after their date at The Rooster. Their dinner at the Italian place in town the night before had been cut short when he got a callout after someone got home and found their place had been burgled.
He and Faye had had a week and a half of early morning phone calls where she was cute, sleepy, innocently sexy and oftentimes funny. A week and a half of coffee and stakeouts, watching the kid grab bags of food, water, books and other items Faye or Chace deemed he needed. They’d had a week and a half where they’d had dinner together every night, going out or eating in at Faye’s place where she cooked.
