False Match Page 12

  Luca didn’t respond. He was too busy arranging his ragged stuffed puppy next to him. He was over on the edge of the bed, opposite her, which was unusual. Normally he snuggled as close as he could, practically pushing her off the bed.

  “You can scoot a little closer. Puppy doesn’t need that much space, does he?”

  Luca looked at her. “I’m leaving room for Chase.”

  “What?”

  “Last night Chase had a nightmare and I think he will tonight too. That’s why he slept in the bed with you. Don’t you remember, Mommy?” He giggled, as if having a forgetful mother was the funniest thing ever.

  She couldn’t speak, couldn’t even begin to formulate the developmentally and emotionally correct response. Silly her for not allowing the kid to watch a lot of television. Any other child would know that only married couples shared a bed. At least on children’s shows.

  On one hand, it was sweet as sugar to have Luca generously sharing her with Chase. On the other, he was obviously already confused about how Chase fit into their lives. “That’s very sweet, Luca, but Chase has his own apartment on campus. He doesn’t live with us since he’s not part of our family.”

  “I wish he could be.” Luca scooted down in the bed, so only his nose and forehead were visible above the thin cotton comforter.

  Samara didn’t respond. What was there to say? She couldn’t tell Luca that Chase had been using her to scratch a sexual itch, one they’d barely dented the surface of. Chase had no more interest in marrying her and becoming Luca’s adoptive father than she had in returning to work in Paulson’s fertility clinic.

  “Good night, Luca.”

  “’Night, Mommy.”

  She flipped off the light and sat in the dark listening to her son breathe. Now what? She could continue to sit in the dark and pray for sleep to take her away, although it was a hopeless desire. After being involved in a car chase that ended with a shooting, sleep was not going to happen. She might as well give up now and head to the living room or to the bedroom Luca had abandoned to get some work done.

  In the dark room she crept out of bed, careful not to disturb Luca, and felt her way to the other room, but froze when the unmistakable sound of the door to the apartment swinging open filtered into her bedroom.

  Backing up on shaky legs, she grabbed the only available weapon at hand, her book. No. Useless. She dropped it and groped around for the pen she always kept on her nightstand. It would have to do. It would also mean she’d have to get up close and personal to have any effect with the makeshift weapon. Luckily for her, she was a medical professional and knew exactly where to strike to cause the most bodily harm.

  She moved quickly to the foot of the bed, blocking the view of Luca. The intruder would have to go through her to get to her son. A large shadow appeared in the doorway. She didn’t wait for introductions. She dashed forward, pen raised to stab.

  But the large male body anticipated her move and blocked her arm. The pen tip grazed the skin on his neck then bounced harmlessly to the carpet.

  “Jonesie, stop. It’s me,” Chase hissed.

  She immediately went limp with relief. Then anger came calling. “What are you doing here?”

  He grabbed her wrists and tugged her to the other room. “I’m checking on you,” he whispered. He shut the bedroom door then walked to turn on the lights.

  She blinked as the overhead light flickered then cast its glow around the room. “Why? I told you before, I’m fine.” His gaze was practically eating her up and it looked as if he was concealing a grin. “What’s so funny?”

  “Your pajamas,” he said. “I like them.”

  She glanced down at the t-shirt and little cotton boxer shorts. Then realization dawned. She was wearing the handprint t-shirt. It had been a Mother’s Day gift from Luca when he’d gone to daycare, and it had been one of the few belongings she’d grabbed when Paulson’s goons had waited for her that awful day in her condo, telling her they had Luca and if she wanted to see him again, she had five minutes to pack a bag. The teacher had put all the children’s tiny hands in paint, and had them make handprints on white t-shirts. Totally adorable. Except, in her case, Luca’s handprints were on the chest of the shirt. One covering each breast. As if she were being felt up by an invisible person with purple hands.

  “Is it a guide?” Chase grinned. “Is that where I’m supposed to put my hands?”

  Feeling her cheeks light on fire, she crossed her arms over her chest, wishing he hadn’t caught her at such an embarrassing moment. First she’d tried to stab him, now he’d caught her in a shirt she only wore when she was one hundred percent sure no one would ever see. Luca, of course, loved when she wore the shirt and always wanted to hear the story of how he’d made it.

  “Why are you here, Chase?” she asked again.

  He lost the grin and went to sit on the bed, barely rumpled by Luca’s twenty-minute attempt to sleep in it.

  “I don’t know. I’ve been running.”

  Now she noticed he was wearing the same clothes he’d worn on the plane ride home, but they were drenched in sweat.

  “Can I use your shower?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You have your own apartment, your own shower.”

  “I know, but if I go back to my building, everyone else will be there and I’ll have to talk to them… Look, can I use it or not?”

  “Fine. I’ll get you a towel.” She turned to head to the bathroom and returned with a Program-issued towel. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.” He stepped toward the bathroom then turned to her. “Don’t wait up for me or anything, if you were about to sleep, you should go do that.”

  “I’m hardly going to sleep knowing you’re in my shower. Do you want something to change into after?”

  “That would be great. Do you have anything that would fit me?”

  She eyed his six-foot-plus muscular frame. “A bathrobe?”

  “I’ll take it.”

  “I’ll wait for you,” she said gently. Something had sent him running to the point of exhaustion, and something had brought him here even when all the lights were off and he had to think she’d been sleeping.

  He nodded. “Do you want to join me?”

  “Go shower,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “I’ll scrub your back.”

  “Go.” But she was glad to see a glimmer of her normal Chase emerging from whatever had been bothering him. She didn’t think it had been the car chase and the shooting. He’d dealt with that easily. But God knew it was bothering the heck out of her.

  She settled back to wait for Chase and didn’t have long to wait. He emerged in minutes from the bathroom with a cloud of steam following him. The towel rode low on his waist, letting her see every drop of stray water sliding on his chiseled muscles.

  Her mouth went dry. Even though she’d seen him naked before, his body didn’t fail to send excitement racing to every nerve under her skin. Especially her brain, which was actively lighting up with possibilities of what to do with a naked man who looked like Chase.

  “Samara, hand me the robe?” he asked, but then seeing her wide-eyed stare, he grinned. “Or I can drop the towel if you want.”

  She couldn’t answer. Robe? Towel? Towel? Robe? Who was she to make such a difficult choice? Technically she was a genius, but she didn’t feel like one at the moment. Towel, her body begged. Robe would be the wise choice, cautioned one tiny part of her brain. It was the right choice. Luca was in the next room and she’d already listed the reasons they shouldn’t see each other anymore.

  “Samara, you’re killing me.” All six-plus feet of wet, mostly naked Chase glistened in her apartment.

  She stood. “I’ll get the robe.” She slipped into the bedroom and grabbed the thin cotton bathrobe from the metal hook on the door and went back out to Luca’s abandoned bedroom. Sadly she watched Chase cover his gorgeous body with the thin white cotton. When he was mostly covered, she perched on the edge of the bed. “Why are you here
?”

  He didn’t answer. “How are you doing? Shaken from today? How’s Luca?” he asked instead.

  “I’m okay. A little scared. A lot angry. They shot at the car with my child inside. Luca’s okay, but scared enough he needed to sleep in my bed tonight.”

  Chase continued to watch her. She ducked her head under his steady gaze. “He tried to save space in the bed for you. He said you might come in if you had a nightmare.”

  He smiled a little. “He’s a great kid.”

  “I know. But he’s confused, Chase. He doesn’t understand about us. I think he’s making us a family in his mind.”

  “Is there anything wrong with that?”

  “Only that it’s not true.”

  “It could be,” he said softly.

  “What? You’re proposing to me?” She laughed, but it was forced. Her heart pounded under the purple painted hand on her shirt.

  Something in his eyes flickered. “Of course I’m not proposing. I’ve known you less than a month. Everyone else on campus sees you as our enemy,” he said.

  “Do you?” she asked.

  There was a long pause, during which she held her breath. Finally, “No.” She released the pent-up air from her lungs.

  “They want to use you, Samara.”

  “Who does?”

  “Shep. Adam. They want you to be bait to get Paulson to come to us.”

  Everyone wanted to use her. She should be getting used to the sentiment, but it still hurt. She didn’t know where Chase stood on the issue. Had he come to warn her or urge her to cooperate with his boss?

  “Don’t do it. Don’t let them use you. It could be dangerous, and I… I don’t want you hurt.”

  Hot tears filled her eyes as her heart filled with an emotion she hadn’t been aware of wanting. Relief. He’d come to warn her. He cared about her. “Thank you for letting me know.”

  He touched her upper arm gently. “Go to sleep now. I’ll stand guard.”

  “Do you think there’s a real threat? Could Paulson actually get onto campus?”

  “No. But I’ll feel better knowing you’re close.”

  She leaned in to brush a kiss across his clean, but unshaven cheek. “Thank you.”

  At the last second he turned and caught her lips with his. Their lips remained connected for long seconds until he pulled back a millimeter. “Okay?”

  A hesitation. Then she leaned in more purposefully and planted a bigger, deeper kiss on him. He let her lead for a while and then his mouth grew more forceful and he took control of the kiss.

  His tongue danced over hers, enticing and seducing her to his will. She melted from the heat they were generating. When his arms wrapped around her, she tucked her hands under the fabric of the robe against his bare skin. She pushed the fabric off his shoulders, revealing his wide chest and biceps. She had a thing for this man’s biceps. Golden skin, too wide for her hand to wrap around even halfway. They were the work of a generous deity, although she knew they were really the work of long hours in the gym.

  Her own body felt unremarkable, too plump next to his sculpted beauty. But the look in Chase’s eyes told her didn’t see her that way. His harsh breathing said he liked everything about the way she felt in his arms.

  With an easy move, Chase tugged her up and on top of him, while he fell backward onto the bed. She stretched out on him, instantly undulating her hips against the hard flat planes of his pelvis. He was becoming as aroused as she was. Heck, she’d been on a hair trigger since he’d emerged from the shower, dripping in the too-small towel.

  Her dark hair fell in a curtain around his face, getting caught on his scratchy beard and in his eyes. She laughed and shook it back.

  “Don’t. I like your hair on me.”

  “It’s so short.”

  “It’s silky. Like your skin.”

  She melted against him a little more.

  “I want you so badly,” Chase groaned against her lips.

  She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her body was totally on board with the idea. It had been years since she’d had sex, and she already knew it was a dud experience compared to what making love with Chase would be like. Simply kissing him fully clothed was hotter and more satisfying than going all the way with her last bed partner.

  “Don’t answer now, just let me kiss you a little more.”

  She stifled a grin and leaned in for more of his intoxicating kisses. She knew if he kissed her a little longer she’d be putty in his arms, amenable to anything he wanted to do. He made her forget herself, her troubles and her responsibilities and it was oh so enticing, but oh so dangerous.

  “Stop thinking, Jonesie, and kiss.”

  She couldn’t help it. She laughed. He knew her so well. The kiss continued, hotter and more mind-blowing.

  Chase’s hand curved around the back of one of her thighs and crept up, taking advantage of the loose fit of her boxers. His hand easily fit in the gaping opening until his palm covered her bare bottom.

  “No panties. I like it, Jones. Kinky.”

  “I’m in my pajamas and it’s healthful for every woman to allow proper airflow on occasion.”

  His hand stiffened on her bottom, and he chortled. “You kill me, Jones. Seriously. Only you could offer medical advice at a moment like this.”

  Something of her uncertainty must have shown, for his smile faded and he looked at her intently. “I like it. I like you.” And then he kissed her again.

  Only instead of being simply scorching, it was sweet and loving and tugged at her heart. Were they really going to do this? His finger grazed the damp cleft between her thighs and she knew the answer. Yes, absolutely.

  Chapter Seven

  Chase rocked his hips against her warm belly. He was as hard as he’d ever been and aching for relief. He shouldn’t have come here. It wasn’t fair to her. After he’d stormed out of Shep’s meeting he’d gone for a long run that had somehow put him in front of Samara’s door.

  She’d almost killed him. Literally. But who could blame her. After nearly getting run off the road and shot at this afternoon, she had to be jumpy. Which was the only reason he could come up with to explain why Samara seemed to be willing to fall into bed with him.

  On the drive home from the airport, she’d made it clear she was done. She hadn’t given him a chance to make his case for continuing the…whatever they had. Relationship?

  Paulson’s crew hadn’t given him the chance. Their timing sucked. But was there ever a good time to be shot at?

  “I want you,” he said again against her lips. As if his hard cock pushing at her wasn’t enough of a clue. He cupped his hands against the lush curve of her rear and held her against him while he rocked against her. They’d be great together. Smoking. He knew it. But if he tore off her pajama bottoms like he was dying to do, he risked startling her. She was like a wild animal he had to approach with caution.

  He half-expected her to jump off any second and flee to the safety of her bedroom where Luca slept. He hadn’t given her any compelling reason or promises that he wanted her more than sexually. But he did want her for more than a quick roll in the sack. When their tire had been shot out from under them this afternoon, it had taken everything he had to stay focused and get to safety. His lunch had sloshed in his belly at the fear that Samara and Luca might be hurt or killed on his watch.

  And it wasn’t about the pride of doing his job. No, it was about the deep-seated need to keep his woman safe and that which she held most dear, her son.

  “Samara?” One hand moved to her waistband and paused, waiting for permission.

  Nothing verbal was uttered other than a warm smile and a wriggle of her hips, telling him she wanted to be skin to skin. She sat up, straddling him, and even the hilarious sight of her well-intentioned t-shirt couldn’t distract him from her hands at the bottom of the shirt, yanking it off over her head.

  His eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sight of her full, luscious breasts. He’d been imaginin
g them for days and the reality was eons better than his dreams. Her bra size was only a number on paper, but the sheer beauty of them was mind-blowing.

  She caught the stunned, captive look on his face. “They’re too big. I know. And nursing for a year didn’t help matters.”

  He struggled to find his voice. This crazy woman was actually apologizing for her breasts. “They are,” he elbowed his way up to kiss the side of one, “the most gorgeous pair I’ve ever seen. And I had a subscription to Playboy. And more swimsuit models taped to my dorm room as a teen. Your breasts blow them all out of the water.”

  “Seriously?” A little doubt still shone on her face.

  “Seriously.”

  She smiled in response and leaned over him so the pair rested on his face.

  Heaven. Holy shit, he might lose it right here. He’d suspected he was a breast man, given the wallpaper of his sixteen-year-old self’s bunk, but it was nice to have it confirmed. He reached up to cup them, and they overflowed his palms. So he used his mouth and his tongue. She was sensitive here, given her sweet moans and gasps.

  But then she started wriggling out of his grasp. “What’re you doing? I was just getting started.”

  “Later,” she gasped. “I want to touch you. I’ve been dying to since last night.”

  He grinned wide, remembering her on her knees in the hotel room, “giving him a hand”. “You can touch me anytime, baby. But I’m so on fire for you, it may set me off. And I want to be inside you when I come.”

  Her brow furrowed for a second. “Oh.” And then she smiled and scooted back so her wet pussy lined up with his cock. Was she? Oh damn, she was.

  “I don’t understand. I’m wet, why are you not sliding in?” she asked with his cock in her hand, poised at the entrance to her body.

  “Because you’re wet, not needy. I want you dying for it.”

  “I am.” She sounded outraged, as if he could doubt her desire for him.