purgatory because she was making negative comparisons and imagining the worst. For all she knew, the women Chase had practiced on were lousy in business, had no ambition, couldn't run a board meeting. Dressed badly.
That made her feel a little better, but she really wished she'd thought to bring along some Häagen-Dazs for emotional support.
The whole line of thinking was silly, anyway. They didn't have a relationship, so she wasn't in competition for his attention with any other women, past, present, future, or wholly imaginary. What they had was an arrangement. She'd wanted fun sex, and Chase had certainly delivered there. Way beyond her expectations.
Did it matter that he didn't know the real Rachel? Did she care if he'd still want to handcuff her at the end of the day if he did?
Yes. It mattered. And she cared. It was dumb, it was probably going to get her hurt, but in her defense she couldn't have known she'd feel this way when she'd planned it.
In her admittedly limited experience, sex had never been so raw, so all-encompassing. So intense. So shattering. There hadn't been any distance, any boundaries. Just the two of them and an explosive physical response she couldn't have predicted.
And if she was honest, it wasn't just physical. Maybe it was because she'd never done anything remotely resembling domination and submission in the past, maybe that kind of sex play created an intense emotional element by its nature. But if so, what about the people who did this kind of thingregularly? Did they fall a little bit in love with all their partners and feel abandoned when playtime was over?
That thought stopped her dead and prompted a harsh internal lecture.
Get a hold of yourself this minute, Rachel Law. You are not in love. You're infatuated, and the sex is amazing, but when it's over you will not be abandoned because this is not real
.
She could admit to herself that she wanted it to be real, however. And she wasn't sure how much of that was because she wanted to be the woman he clearly thought she was and how much was because she wanted him. It seemed like a fiftyfifty split, and it occurred to her that maybe the combination was the elusive missing something she'd come here looking for. A missing side of herself and a man who brought it out.
Well, whatever she wanted, she wasn't going to find it by staying in the tub until she turned into a prune. Rachel pulled the stopper free to drain the bathwater, climbed out, and toweled herself off. She found the robe hanging where Chase had said it would be, belted it around her midsection, and headed downstairs.
She found him in the kitchen, holding a spatula. He gave her a warm smile and used the spatula to wave her to a seat at the bar that divided the kitchen from the rest of the living area. "Sit. It's almost ready."
He'd cooked for her while she took a bath? No wonder she felt as though she were falling for him. How was she supposed to keep her head when he did things like that? Rachel slid into a seat, and a minute later Chase put an omelet with toast in front of her. He set an identical plate next to her and then poured two glasses of orange juice before joining her.
"Eat," he said. "You burned a lot of calories up there. Time to refuel."
"Thank you." Rachel picked up her fork and cut into the omelet. "You didn't have to do this."
"Yes, I did. It's all part of my master plan." He leaned over and kissed the sensitive hollow just below her ear.
Plan to do what? Drive her insane? Make her hopelessly lost in the fantasy? Since she couldn't fathom Chase, Rachel focused on something concrete she could sink her teeth into and ate her omelet.
While they shared the impromptu meal, Chase kept up a steady campaign of little touches. Smoothing her hair back over her shoulder. Brushing his arm against hers. Small points of contact that made her feel very aware of his presence and very much the focus of his attention.
When they finished, Chase stacked the