able to speak.
It was taking all the willpower he had—and some he didn’t even know he possessed—to not pull her to him so he could feel her soft curves against his body. To cover his mouth with hers and suck the tongue that had trailed along her plump lips, causing his steel rod to pulse heavily. To reach out and run his hands through her silky red hair. To thread his fingers, fist them at the nape of her neck, and tug just enough that she gasped with pleasure.
His hands fisted at his sides in restraint, desire crashing over him. Chase had never forgotten just how powerful Krista’s appeal was. He’d never forgotten how he hadn’t just needed or wanted her—he’d ached for her. Craved her.
Even though the memory had never left him, experiencing the intensity after years of being deprived of it was staggering. His fingers dug into the skin on his palm.
Her eyes. Her smile. Her hair. He’d missed every part of her so much that being this close but unable to touch her was agony.
“Oookay.” Her brows rose. “Good talk. Nighty night.”
She spun around on her heels, her long red hair whipped around, and the citrusy sent of her shampoo filled the small hallway.
“You still use the same shampoo,” Chase stated. It wasn’t a question. He knew she did.
She looked over her shoulder her emerald-green eyes widening with surprise. “Yep.” Quickly masking her shock at his observation she nodded her head once stubbornly before spinning back around and heading towards the door.
“Krista.”
He didn’t want her to go. In fact, in this moment, he would have done just about anything to make her stay, to spend even a few more minutes with him. But he’d seen the determined look in her eye. She was leaving and there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot he could do about it. Unless he got creative.
“Bear has a bear?” he asked. Moving the subject off them and away from the silent, sex-infused communication their bodies were engaged in was the only hope of keeping her here even a minute longer.
She stopped up short. Her large pink slippers slid against the newly mopped entryway, causing her to wobble. He reached for her, but before he touched her, she caught her balance and turned. Now she was facing him once again. He tried to suppress a smile that was trying desperately to break across his face. Her ninja-like quickness had always amused him. She was so tiny, so delicate, so graceful. But when she wanted to move, she moved .
“Yes, Bear has a teddy bear,” she spoke matter-of-factly, in the same tone she would use to tell someone what time it was or that the sky was blue.
Chase knew her. He was sure that she was trying to hide the amusement in the ridiculousness of her statement in hopes of keeping him at arm’s length. When Krista decided to shut someone out, she built walls—high walls—that were protected by not only a deep moat surrounding its perimeter, but also snipers positioned around her heart and mind. Those suckers shot down anything that tried to pass.
He’d seen it happen with several girls who she’d considered her best friends when they were in high school. They’d betrayed her, normal girl stuff, and when they’d come crawling back to make amends, they’d pulled out all the stops. Tears. Notes saying how much they missed her. One of the girls, the blond one, had brought a collage of pictures of her with her excommunicated group of friends to Krista’s house. Krista had studied the picture-covered cardboard carefully, Chase had even seen a small smile appear on her lips. He’d thought maybe, just maybe, the ice had been cracking. That this girl had done the unthinkable and put a small chink in Krista’s emotional armor. He’d been wrong. Once she had finished looking it over, she’d asked, actually told , her no-longer friend to leave and take her “art project” with her.
For two years, the girls had tried to get back in Krista’s good graces. No matter what they’d done,