I lower myself onto the opposite end of the couch, and toss the invitation at him.

“What the fuck were you thinking, sending an RSVP to my cousin’s wedding?” My voice rises to just below a screech, “And sending a plus one?!”

I gape at the furious woman in front of me and can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. She’s so fucking cute when she’s pissed.

“Come here,” I order in a playful tone.

She huffs at my nonchalance and jerks to her feet. “Maybe you should go, Chase.” She points at the front door. “Clearly you won’t respect my boundaries—boundaries I’ve had in place for a very long time. If you can’t do that, then we can’t be…”

I raise an eyebrow at her to finish her statement but the stubborn woman then presses her lips together and shoots me a glare.

“Fine,” I snap and jump to my feet. “I’ll leave. Bye, Victoria.”

Feigning anger, I storm to the front door. When I hear a shocked gasp, I glance over my shoulder to see tears welling in her eyes and her hand covering her mouth.

“You called me Victoria.”

This time, I turn to her and am a little more forceful in my command. “Come here.”

She marches over to me and throws herself into my outstretched arms. “Were you really going to leave?”

Chuckling, I squeeze her to me and kiss the top of her head. “And miss hanging out in your Southern Living magazine living room, on your pristine white couch I most likely got dirty just from looking at it, while you bitch at me about boundaries? Never.”

Her laugh is music to my ears and I run my fingertips down her spine.

“Tori—you’ll always be fucking Tori to me—because saying your full name is a mouthful and I’m too lazy to say it all,” I state. “Anyway, I’m not going anywhere. I told you this already. As far as the wedding RSVP, I’ll admit, I overstepped.”

Her tone is haughty. “Overstepped? You crossed a line that nearly got my secretary fired.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t ever fire Stacey—I like her. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Her face is still contorted into an angry one but when I flash her a goofy grin, she caves and her lips twitch as she attempts to hold back a smile.

“Fine. Apology accepted. And, I know you don’t think it’s a big deal, but I’m not eager to be around them. They bring up the past and it guts me, Chase.”

Dipping to her mouth, I press a soft kiss there. “Remember all that talk about me carrying you? I wasn’t lying. I’ll be there, babe. Don’t worry so much.”

“They’ll assume that we’re—that we’re—”

Cutting her off, I say, “Boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Ugh, yes!”

“Aren’t we, babe?”

She glares at me again so I dissolve the ticking bomb by stealing another kiss, this one a deep one.

“We’re nothing,” she tries, but I swallow her words as I dive my tongue into her mouth.

When I’ve kissed her to the point that she’s liquid jelly in my arms, I pull back and smirk. “Tori, we’re something.”

I pull away from her and saunter over to her television. “How do you turn this thing on? I’m afraid to touch anything in here,” I tell her, “Next sleepover is at my place.”

She shrieks and I bellow with laughter.

“Chase, you are really walking a thin line tonight!”

I flash her a wicked grin. “I know, boundaries and shit. What can I say? I like to test my limits.”

She shoulders past me and effortlessly mashes some buttons on her remote. Soon, we’re both standing in front of the television watching the news.

“Jesus, Tori. Is this what you do for fun?” I grumble and steal the remote. Flipping through the channels, I land on the new version of The Amityville Horror. “We’re watching this. Go grab us some blankets. I’m not cuddling on that white leather.”

When I turn to glance at her, she’s scowling. “I don’t have fun, especially three hours past my bedtime on a weeknight. You’re bossy and obnoxious, you know that?”

“You like it. You’re the fan of the manhandling, not me. I’m just trying to please the lady,” I reply.

“Seriously, Chase. I have to work in the morning.”

“You’ll live. It’s just one night.” She doesn’t move so I slap her ass. “Get to it, woman.”

With a kitten-like growl, she stomps away. While she’s gathering the blankets, I explore her home.

Crisp.

Cold.

Uninviting.

Frowning, I stroll into the kitchen. Stainless steel appliances have been scrubbed to shine. White granite countertops add to the sterile vibe she has going on in here. There’s not a speck of dirt or a dirty dish in this kitchen.

The girl could use a drink—something to warm her up and thaw the ice that runs through her veins. Like the nosy person I am, I open some of her cabinets to see if she’s stashing away any liquor.

I come up empty but I do find the motherlode of Peanut M&Ms.

So the girl does do some color.

Snatching up the bag, I saunter back into the living room to see her efficiently tucking a blanket into the cushions of the couch. She’s changed into the most casual thing I’ve ever seen her wear. An outfit that has my cock on full alert.

My eyes skirt over her scantily clad body and I swallow down the urge to throw her down on the couch, ripping the rest of her clothes off along the way.

I mean, seriously.

Why the hell is she teasing me wearing nothing but a tight pair of peach colored pajama pants and a white camisole? Her blonde hair is wild and it hangs in front of her shoulders causing her to look every bit the angel I know she hides deep inside.

“I changed my mind about the sleepovers. Your house is way better,” I drawl out and make a show of skimming my eyes over her body.

Her cheeks pink and she shakes her head. “You are not sleeping over, Chase.”

“We’ll see,” I tell her smugly and toss her the bag of sweets. “I brought dessert.”

She smiles and tears them open while I kick off my shoes. If she’s going to get comfortable, then so am I. With a tug of the bottom of my jersey, I peel it off and I nearly chuckle aloud to see her gaping at my now bare chest.

“W-w-what are you doing?” she stammers, eyes drinking up every line and curve on my flesh. Her eyes linger on the angel tattooed over my heart, but I don’t give her time to ask the question.

“This is how I sleep. Topless. You should try it,” I flirt.

Her eyes bug out and she drags her gaze away from me. “You’re not sleeping here and I’m not getting naked.”

I laugh as I plop down on the couch and stretch out. “Yet, baby.”

She storms around the house snapping off lights and releasing some of her frustration. By the time she comes back, she’s cooled off. She sits at one end—like that’s going to fucking happen—and pops a piece of candy into her mouth.

Rolling my eyes at her, I hook my arm around her waist and haul her to lie down with me. I expect her to resist but she lets me pull her flush against me with her back to my chest.

I could get used to having this woman glued to me every night.

The thought warms me.

But as the movie continues and we munch on the sweets, my mind skips into dark places. The depression that I keep shoved away begins sneaking its tendrils into my head and infecting my mind.

Thoughts swarm like nagging flies and I swat them away, attempting to stay in the present moment with her. Instead, I’m stolen and thrust into a memory I’d rather forget.

“Mom, I hate myself.”

My mother, with her long, wavy graying hair, frowns and rises from her chair in the cold, sterile hospital room. They’ve since moved me to the psych ward. Apparently I need “help.”

“Son,” she says with a clipped tone as she approaches my bed. “You don’t hate yourself.”