I raise a cynical eyebrow at him. “Please tell me you aren’t expecting me to wear those?”

Chase beams at me and my resolve melts a little. “I have no doubt you’ll make it work, babe. And look fabulous while doing it.”

I want to argue, but seriously, what’s the point? He’s right, I can’t wear these clothes. Ones I’d worn, sure that I would be able to get out of painting. I can tell that will not be the case, so I snatch the clothes and motion for him to get lost. “Shoo.”

He grins and taps the tip of my nose; one more thing I find adorable and don’t want to. “I’ll be right downstairs if you need any help.” I roll my eyes, push him out the door, and slam it in his chortling face.

The T-shirt could be a freaking nightgown, coming half way down my thighs, and the sweat pants have to be rolled down to get them to stay on my hips. I avoid the mirror when I leave the room, confident I’ll have a panic attack should I see what I currently look like.

Chase had told me when we’d visited the living room that it was where our project would be. I pad down the hallway to the room and find him laying drop cloths over the furniture, the supplies already set out. I move closer to the wall, studying it, and then running my fingers over the coating. “This paint looks practically new, Chase. Why does it need another coat?”

Chase is pouring paint and assembling rollers, but he mutters, “It was the wrong fucking color.” I wait for more explanation, wondering at his aggressive tone, but receive none. He finishes his task and hands me a paint roller. “We’ll hit the main sections and then do the edges by the tape.”

I reluctantly take my tool, my nose scrunching in disgust, then with a sigh, I get to work. The rhythmic movement and the soft swish of the roller is actually quite soothing and we chit chat about nothing as we move closer to each other, finishing up when we meet in the center.

Chase looks from the wall to me and bursts out laughing, the sound deep and husky, full of rich sound. His laugh is seriously a turn on, and it’s also quite infectious. I know what he’s seeing, but I play innocent.

“What?” I ask with a small pout.

“All that paint, how the hell did you get more on you than the wall?” he shakes his head, still snickering. “So fucking cute.”

Without warning, he slides his hand around my neck and tugs me to him, bending and landing his mouth over mine. I stiffen for just a moment and he pulls back immediately, regarding me thoughtfully. There is raging lust swirling in his chocolate depths and something inside me snaps. He must feel it too, because the next second, there is no air between us. I’m plastered up against his body, his hands diving into my hair, scattering pins all over. Our mouths are attacking one another’s—tongues tangling, breaths choppy—whenever we take the chance to suck in some air. A tingling starts at my lips, spreading through my head, down my neck and shoulders, to my breasts where my nipples become hard, then down to my center where my wet pussy is soaking my panties.

I feel as though I’ve found an oasis of fresh, clean water after having walked in the desert for an eternity. Chase moves forward, until I find my back pressed up against the wall—not the freshly painted one thank God—and his hands slide through my hair, down my throat, running his palms over my aching breasts, then traveling around and down to grab my ass. He molds his hands over the cheeks, yanking me forward even as his body presses me harder into the wall. With the tiniest lift, my legs automatically circle his waist.

Holy fuck. Oh shit, fuckity fuck.

An exceptionally large, scorching, bulge snaps right up tight to my center. Shivers rush through me from tip to toe, becoming shakes, and growing in strength. Then with a rock of his hips, I splinter apart with an all-consuming orgasm, the world turning into a kaleidoscope of color, spinning and making me dizzy.

As the feeling subsides, I attempt to calm my racing heart and breathe normally. That’s when I register that we aren’t moving, everything is still. I open my eyes and Chase is staring at me, his face full of shock and wonder.

“That is hands down the sexiest damn thing I have ever seen in my life, baby.” He continues to watch me and I begin to feel the effects of what has just happened. Guilt flushes through me and I wiggle, trying to let him know I want to be put down.

He groans and buries his face in my neck, his breath tickling and teasing me. “Don’t move like that, Tori. I’m hanging by a thread here.”

I immediately still. “Please put me down, Chase.” I ask calmly despite the panicking lunatic I’m barely able to contain. I keep my tone light, but there is no mistaking the tension.

Chase’s head flies up, and the dark brown of his eyes are swirling with questions. I can’t keep his gaze and look over his shoulder to avoid more eye contact.

“Tori.”

I cock my head to indicate that I’m listening, but don’t speak.

“Tori, look at me.” He shakes me just a little and I furrow my brows in annoyance at being forced to face him.

Whatever he sees brings sadness to his eyes and he slowly releases my legs, sliding them slowly to the ground. The sadness is still there, but it’s being pushed away by determination, and he grabs onto my face with both hands.

“Don’t, for one second, think that this was a mistake. It was amazing and I swear to all that is holy, it will happen again. There is something here, baby, and, I’m not going to let you ignore it.”

My eyes begin to slide away again.

“Tori, look at me.” His voice is firm and my eyes come back to his in surprise. “This is happening, and you need to learn to accept it. Because eventually, we’ll make it up to the bedroom where I have more pleasure in store for you.”

I don’t—I can’t think straight. He can’t replace Ben, I don’t want him too. This is all wrong, that feeling from Sunday was a fluke. I shake my head at Chase and rip myself from his hands. I open my mouth, but have nothing. I don’t know what to say. So I bolt from the room, into the half bath, and slam the door shut. Sinking to the ground, the dam that was cracking bursts free and anguish takes hold, drowning me.

Well, shit.

Running a hand through my not-just-fucked hair, I groan and stare at the bathroom door.

Forty-five minutes.

The first fifteen minutes were spent with me begging her to open the door and to let me talk to her. The last half hour, I’ve only been listening. And waiting.

She’ll have to come out sooner or later and when she does, I’ll be the one to catch her.

Her crying has long since turned from sobs to sniffles, and now to silence.

“I’ll have to start charging you by the hour,” I tease, but anxiety infects my veins and I press my forehead to the cold wood of the door silently praying she’ll answer.

When I’m met with silence again, I stalk down the hallway and pick up my phone. A short while later, I’ve ordered pizza and am back at the door.

I try a different tactic. “Tori, if you don’t open the door, I’ll break it down.”

Shuffling noises resound on the other side and I grin at the prospect of her unlocking the door. Instead, I’m met with attitude.

“Leave me alone, Chase. I want to go home but I don’t want to see you. Not like this,” she snips out in what must feel like an angry bite to her. To me, the sadness in her words is almost palpable. I want to reach out and grab them. Clutch them to me and hold them.

“Babe, you need—”

“I. Am. Not. Your. Babe,” she hisses through the door.

With a resigned sigh, I decide to do what I promised myself forty-five minutes ago I wouldn’t do. Stalking toward my toolbox in the living room, I grumble at the idea of damaging my door frame.