Breathe

Chapter Eight Cats and Dogs, Birds and Bees

I drove to Chace’s place attempting to control my breathing. This was because I was near on hyperventilating.

And this was because tonight was the night.

I’d decided.

Tonight I was going to give Chace my virginity.

Chace didn’t know this yet, of course. It was my decision. Although I was fraking nervous, I was sticking with it.

I’d made this decision for a variety of reasons.

Firstly, because I’d fallen in love from afar with Chace at sixteen and now we were dating. I’d known for thirteen years he was the man I wanted to give it up to. Therefore, even though we hadn’t been dating long, considering I’d been into him for thirteen years, I figured it was high time I got down to doing that.

Secondly, because I was twenty-nine, I finally had a boyfriend so it was also high time I got laid.

And last, because with all the necking and early morning phone calls, Chace a touch away or his voice, sleepy and sexy coming to me over the phone or his tongue in my mouth, for the first time in my life, I needed to get laid.

The problem with this was, I had no clue how to go about doing that.

I knew Chace was experienced. I knew this through living in the same small town as him as well as experiencing firsthand that, well, experience albeit limitedly. Men had to get some too (I thought) and he was around me enough he couldn’t be getting it elsewhere (I hoped). So I didn’t really get why he wouldn’t allow it to go beyond necking.

My only thought was that, Chace being Chace or who I was getting to know as Chace, was smart, he was experienced and putting both of those together he knew or figured out I was not. So, being Chace, a good guy, he was taking things slowly. Not to mention, I wasn’t exactly like the other women I’d known he’d been with. It wasn’t (outside of Misty) like they were all loose. They just weren’t like me. I’d grown up in Carnal, my Mom and Dad had too, not to mention they were well-known and well-liked. Maybe it was a respect thing.

Whatever it was, I was going for it.

But before I went for it, I needed advice.

This time, I didn’t even have to think about it. At a quiet time in the library, I’d grabbed my cell, moved to my open office door, stood in it with eyes directed into the library and I’d called Krystal. Quickly and succinctly I explained my dilemma while trying and likely failing not to blush.

Krystal’s response?

“I’ll be there in five.”

This was both a relief and it made me even more nervous.

Those nerves escalated when she wasn’t at the library in five. She arrived in fifteen. My heart started palpitating when I saw her stroll through the door with Twyla.

Now, I liked Twyla and the night I had drinks with Chace at Bubba’s, Twyla had demonstrated (surprisingly) that she liked me too. Every girl always had openings for new girls in her posse and one could say I had more openings than most since my girl posse for years had been limited. Unless you were the type of woman to steal boyfriends or clothes, all girls were welcome.

It was just that Twyla didn’t seem like one of the girls. This was mostly because she was known throughout town as being able to best just about anyone at arm wrestling and I wasn’t talking her engaging in this activity with other women. Though, I’d heard this wasn’t unheard of, it just took her a lot less time to win. She also was known to be an ex-marine. And last she was known to hold great disdain for all things girlie. So being in a girl posse didn’t seem to be something she’d desire.

Then again, she was a girl and every girl, even me, knew that men were awesome for some things but others, no one but another girl would do.

My current situation being a prime example.

I just wasn’t certain this instance was one of those that Twyla could be helpful with.

Further, I was not fired up by the idea of everyone in Carnal knowing intimate details of my life, including my life with Chace. That made me uncomfortable, for me, but it also made me uncomfortable because Chace had been the topic of a lot of discussion for a long time. Before that happened, he seemed a man who liked to live quiet. That choice had been taken away from him. Now, when he could get it back, I thought he should.

When they made it to the checkout desk, both scanning the vicinity to see there were no patrons close, I decided to start.

And I started with a lame, “Uh…”

Krystal’s eyes sliced to me and she answered my unasked question. “She wouldn’t hear no for an answer. Don’t know how she knew. My side of the conversation was five words. She just did. I tried to talk her out of it. Ten minutes, didn’t work, pissed me off so I just came. She followed.” Krystal then looked to Twyla. “By the way, the time we’re here, you’re not gettin’ paid for bein’ there.”

Twyla was a waitress at Krys’s bar. By the look on Twyla’s face, she didn’t care that she’d lose her probably not very exciting waitress wages.

She didn’t respond to Krystal. She looked to me and stated immediately, “Throw yourself at him.”

“Holy frak,” I breathed, my lungs seizing at the thought.

“Are you nuts?” Krystal hissed, leaning into Twyla.

“Do I look nuts?” Twyla returned, and unfortunately the answer to that was, yes, she did.

It wasn’t that she was built like a truck which she was. It wasn’t this because she was entirely comfortable in her frame, she worked it and thus it worked for her.

It was that she wore her hair in a female mullet. A male mullet was bad enough. A female mullet, well, I wasn’t the keeper of all things fashionable and felt people should do what they liked but I also knew what everyone else did. That a mullet was one place no man or woman should ever go.

Krys gave up on Twyla and looked to me. “Do not do that. Talk to him.”

Twyla stopped looking at Krys and her eyes came to me. “Do not talk to him. Throw yourself at him.”

“Stop telling her that,” Krys snapped at Twyla.

Twyla crossed her arms on her chest and looked back at Krystal.

“You get I like girls,” she stated but it was a prompt.

“Yes,” Krystal replied.

“And I like girls who do things like wear mascara and lipstick.”

“I know your partner, Twyla, you both were at my house for Bubba’s barbeque spareribs three weeks ago,” Krys returned.

“Right so, I like girls. And I’ve liked ‘em all my life. I was a marine. I’ve shot a gun. I own five of them, guns that is. I watch the Nuggets, Avs, Broncos and Rockies. I’ve never in my life worn a skirt. I wear a sports bra because with these babies,” she circled her bosoms with a pointed finger before dropping her hand to the checkout desk, “I got no choice. God saw fit to grant me an A cup, no way. Since I’m a C, I’m fucked. I have never worn mascara. I do not own a blow dryer. And I get off on goin’ down on chicks. Now which one, you or me, has more in common with Chace Keaton?”

I had to admit, she had a point there.

Krystal had to admit it too, even though I could tell she didn’t want to. I could tell because she opened her mouth and closed it.

Twyla looked at me.”Throw yourself at him.”

Krystal closed her eyes, dropped her head to look at her boots and her honeyed locks fell forward to hide her face.

I whispered to Twyla, “I kinda already tried that.”

Krystal’s head shot up as Twyla’s eyebrows did the same.

“No go?” Twyla asked.

“He, uh… shuts it down or, um… redirects it but um… mostly shuts it down and concentrates on kissing.”

“He know you’re a virgin?” Twyla asked.

“Um…” I answered, not knowing until then that Twyla knew I was a virgin.

“How much neckin’ you do?” Twyla requested details when I was unable to go on.

“I have little experience but it feels like, on a scale of one to ten, one hundred and fifteen.”

Krystal grinned.

Twyla kept up her interrogation. “So, you had little experience before him?”

I nodded.

“On a scale of one to ten, how much experience did you have?” Twyla pushed.

“Point two five,” I replied quietly.

“He knows you’re a virgin,” Twyla muttered and my heart jumped, not pleasantly.

Krystal punched her in the arm. “Now you’re freaking Faye out.”

“Uh, just to be clear, the ‘throw yourself at him’ bit already freaked me out,” I shared.

“So what’s on tonight?” Twyla asked, ignoring my share.

“Dinner at his place, the first time I’ve been there,” I told her.

“Bring panties and a toothbrush. Then find a way to tell him you brought panties and a toothbrush.” She suddenly clapped, I jumped and she finished, “Done.”

“Oh my God, that’s actually a good idea,” Krystal whispered and Twyla’s eyebrows shot up again, this time in affront.

“You think I walked five blocks in the Colorado Mountain March cold for no reason?” Twyla queried. “I’m a lesbian who can jack most motherfuckers up. I know non-lesbians who can do the same. You bein’ one of ‘em, I might add, though you do it with a shotgun in your hand. Same freakin’ thing. But bein’ a lesbian don’t make me not good at advice.”

I made mental note of this and added Twyla to my phone tree for when I experienced a relationship emergency.

“I didn’t say that you weren’t,” Krystal retorted.

“Felt that way,” Twyla shot back, Krys’s eyes narrowed and she leaned in.

“Now you’re being sensitive. I’ll remind you, Faye called me,” Krys stated.

“Maybe so, but when there’s a problem, it’s all hands on deck,” Twyla returned.

Krystal had no retort, looked stymied and also looked angry that she was. Not unusual, just scarier than normal.

I decided to wade in. “Just an FYI,” I said to Twyla. “I’ve added you to my relationship emergency phone tree.”

Twyla grinned huge at me.

“Great,” Krys muttered. “I finally get my shot, I get bumped because Twyla horned in.”

I blinked at Krystal because she sounded genuinely aggrieved.

It then hit me that Krystal Briggs had let me in. Not like she had Chace. In in. She cared about me. She wanted to help. I was past the hard outside layer that kept everyone out and was in the soft, warm center.

Which made me feel warm inside too.

“Don’t worry, Krys, her bein’ a virgin and him bein’ the kind of man he is, I’m sure you’ll get your chance,” Twyla assured.

I suddenly didn’t feel warm inside anymore.

“What kind of man is he?” I whispered and Krys and Twyla both looked at me.

Then they both said at the same time with the same emphasis, “All man.”

I felt a shiver. It wasn’t a bad one. It wasn’t a good one. It was a nervous one.

“Right, so I was freaked out. Now I’m nervous.”

Twyla tossed her hand in the air and stated, “You been seein’ each other awhile, that man’s been seein’ to you in that while, not pushin’ things, goin’ slow, keepin’ it controlled, you got no problem.”

“This is true,” Krys said leaning into me. “No kidding, Faye. That says a lot.”

I felt slightly better.

I still needed guidance.

“Um, so, how do I work in the panties and toothbrush? I mean, it’s not something you share over dinner,” I pointed out, trying not to blush but feeling the heat.

“He’s got his tongue in your mouth,” Krys began, “and he’ll have his tongue in your mouth. You’re on the couch, and you’ll be on the couch. When he takes his tongue out of your mouth, find a way to whisper it in his ear. That’ll speed things up.”

“Real quick,” Twyla agreed on a short nod.

Oh man. I was beginning to waiver on my tonight’s the night decision.

Twyla must have seen it because she leaned in. “He’s done good by you. He’s done good by this town. Word I hear, he’s pretty solid. So far, he’s taken care of you. He was way into you the other night. I may be into women but I spent a lotta time around men. You saved it awhile, you wanna give it away, you could do worse. But, honest to God, not sure you could find better.”

I smiled at her because that made me feel much better.

Unfortunately at that point, a patron approached the checkout desk with an armload of books. Fortunately, Krys and Twyla hung around long enough for them to vow to me they wouldn’t breathe a word about our discussion to anyone. One thing could be said of the two of them, if they vowed, which they did, they’d keep it.

And last, since I hoped I’d be unavailable the next morning, I asked them to take care of Malachi. Krys jumped on that, took my list of things I thought he’d need, promised to stop by the store and leave the bags by the return bin the next day.

So there I was, in my car on the road that led to Chace’s house. A road I’d only been on a few times in my life because there was no reason to go down it since it led to a dead end at the foot of the mountain and had nothing but a bunch of ranches on it. Those times I’d been on it were while driving around with kids in high school for no other reason than to pass time and listen to music loudly on the stereo.

I’d changed purses because I now had clean panties, my toothbrush and I’d added face wash, moisturizer, deodorant and one of my sexy new nighties so I needed a bigger one. I thought it best to be prepared. If I was spending the night, I didn’t want to sleep in makeup. Slept-in makeup looked awful in the morning.

I also had my sexy undies on and, just in case, had been wearing nothing but those every time I saw Chace which meant every day since I’d bought them. I’d changed out of my work skirt and into jeans, brushed my hair and done the run through a spritz of perfume routine. I was chewing on a piece of bubblemint because Chace told me in a growl during a make out session he loved the way I tasted. So if bubblemint was an addiction before, suffice it to say it was an obsession now.

And I was nervous as all fraking heck.

His house came in sight and I knew it was his because he told me it was the only one surrounded by a white picket fence. He also had the porch light on and there were some bright floodlights at the side of the house that were lighting up the lane and the drive.

I grabbed the wrapper, spit my gum in it, balled it up, threw it in my cup holder, deep breathed and turned in his drive.

I parked, set the parking brake and when I went for my door, I saw the door to Chace’s house open. Chace, in jeans, a shirt and a kickass sweater, was walking out of it.

The deep breathing stopped working.

I managed to grab my bag, throw open the door and jump out. I slammed the door and walked up the cleared path, my eyes to Chace. He was standing at the top of the porch steps following my progress with his eyes at the same time looking outrageously hot. I figured this last wasn’t because his outfit was better than any other I’d seen him in because it wasn’t. Nothing beat the outfit he wore to The Rooster. Not even when I saw the faded jeans shirt in its full glory.

It was because I was hoping I’d very soon see him out of his clothes altogether and I figured it would be a good view.

I kept deep breathing, stopped at the foot of the steps and looked up at all his gorgeousness.

Nervous, fearing I’d pass out, I said the first idiotic thing that came to mind and luckily it was just idiotic and not mortifying.

“Do you like dogs and cats?”

His head jerked and I watched his eyes, warm on me even in the cold night, blink.

“What?”

“Dogs and cats. Do you like them?” I pressed on regardless of the fact it made me sound like an idiot. I’d started down this road. I had to follow it to its fruition. Hopefully, though, it was less a road and more like a short lane.

“Will my answer affect whether or not you’ll come into the house to eat?” he asked back.

“No,” I answered then added a partial truth. “I’m coming in because I’m hungry.”

“Then cats, yeah, if they’re the friendly kind who don’t mind being pet and don’t act like they own you rather than the other way around. Dogs, yeah, without any conditions,” he finally answered.

“I’ve known a lot of friendly cats but I don’t know any who don’t act like they own you rather than the other way around,” I shared.

“Then cats, no,” he amended his answer and continued with his own question, “Baby, you wanna tell me why we’re standing outside talking about cats and dogs?”

I didn’t because a smarter conversation would be about birds and bees.

I didn’t share that.

Instead I said, “I’m thinking about getting one. A cat or a dog, I mean.”

“Is my answer a deal breaker?”

“In what sense?”

“In the sense that if I say no, I don’t like one or the other, you won’t come into the house and eat.”

“I already answered that.”

“Yeah, darlin’, but I said no to cats and you haven’t come into the house yet.”

“Oh, right,” I whispered.

I fell silent.

So did Chace.

He broke it.

“Faye, we’re still standing outside.”

That was when I blurted, “I was leaning toward a cat.”

After that was when Chace threw his head back and roared with laughter.

I liked it but still, I bit my lip.

When his eyes dipped down to me, he said through his waning laughter but he said it gently, “Baby, climb up the fuckin’ steps.”

I climbed up the effing steps.

I didn’t get to the top before Chace bent low and took my hand so the last two steps I did it hand and hand with his.

He started to guide me across the porch to the door and I spied two rocking chairs with a table between them.

White picket fence. Nothing but plains and ranches and mountains all around. It was darkening dusk so I couldn’t see but I already knew the views from his house would be astounding from every angle, the kind you would never get used to.

Those rocking chairs would be perfect to sit in and read for hours in the summer. Or sit next to Chace and do absolutely nothing and be happy doing it.

Somehow, this thought and how beautiful it was made me tug on his hand, turn slightly into him and go up on my toes.

His body gave a slight jerk as if he was surprised but he still stopped with me and bent his head as if he knew I wanted his ear.

Which I did.

Because, into it, I jumped the gun and let it all hang out.

“I brought clean panties and a toothbrush,” I whispered and held my breath, not moving, not even to breathe.

Chace didn’t move either. Not a muscle. I didn’t even sense him breathing.

Oh God. Oh frak. Oh God.

Then suddenly Chace moved and he did it to let go of my hand, bend low and I was flying through the air but doing it safe in his arms, one of them behind my knees, one of them around my waist.

I automatically curled an arm around his shoulders, tipped my head back and I did this last just in time for his mouth to take mine.

Holding me, he opened the storm door and carried me over the threshold kissing me.

So I guess I did it right.

A phone was ringing.

It wasn’t the first time. In fact, it was the third.

I heard it but I didn’t care. And I didn’t care the other two times either.

This was because I was on Chace’s bed, in Chace’s bedroom, with Chace’s mouth on mine, his tongue in my mouth, his hand down my pants and I was this close to coming.

This had happened fast, starting with the kiss Chace gave me while carrying me all the way to his bed. It was like the kiss he gave me before we went to The Rooster. Wild. Abandoned. Fiery. Exquisite.

Luscious.

But it was more luscious because he was doing it carrying me to his bed.

You couldn’t get more luscious than that.

He kept kissing me as he bent a bit, the light went on and he laid me on my back in his bed, immediately following me in.

I knew he wasn’t controlling this. Not even close. I knew this when his hands went up my shirt and I felt them for the first time, warm skin against skin.

I liked this so I reciprocated, tugging his shirt out of his jeans and my hands pushed inside.

But I liked what they encountered more. Oh my fraking Lord, I liked it a lot more. Hot, smooth, hard with lots of interesting planes and bunches and ridges to trail my fingertips over and discover.

My touch had an astounding effect and that was Chace’s hand gliding from my waist to my ribs and curling around my breast over my bra. Nearly instantly when his hand reached this destination, his thumb slid firm over my hard nipple.

No one but me had ever touched me there and suffice it to say, Chace doing it while kissing me, lying mostly on me, his firm, hot skin under my hands while in his bed sent shafts of fire through me the likes I never experienced. The likes I didn’t even know existed. The likes I liked a whole heckuva lot.

So much I tore my mouth from his on an arched neck, whimpering moan.

This also had an astounding effect and that was both of Chace’s hands going to my jacket and yanking it down my arms. Then he pulled me up and jerked it away, tossing it to the floor.

After it went my shirt.

This might have freaked me out if his mouth hadn’t found mine, my back hadn’t again found bed and his hand hadn’t again found my breast and, last, his thumb hadn’t retraced its path then gone backwards for another swipe.

I wasn’t wrong that the first time was magnificent because the second and third were just as fraking good. So good, I arched my back and whimpered into his mouth, my hands tugging his sweater up.

Chace got the message I didn’t even know I was sending. I would know this when he tore his lips from mine, arched away from me, put his hands behind his shoulder blades, ripped his sweater off and tossed it aside. My shaking hands immediately and instinctively went to the buttons on his shirt. I got one undone before his back bowed, his body shifted, I lost purchase on his shirt, his hand lifted my breast and his mouth closed on my nipple over my bra.

Okay, oh frak, okay, the thumb swipe, magnificent. His mouth, sublime.

My back arched so deep, it left the bed and a low, long, quiet moan rose out of my throat then I had his mouth back on mine, his hand and thumb back at my breast. I got another rough, wild, deep, wet, long kiss and I was already lost. But at his kiss, I knew I never wanted to be found.

My hands were moving. Having minds of their own, they went everywhere they could find, touched everything they could reach, took in as much as they could get. Including running over his hard behind, one hand rounding his hip and then it happened.

Not even thinking, just acting on instinct, so turned on, so out of life and into Chace, my fingers grazed the hard evidence of arousal.

I gasped into his mouth because I liked it. Not a little, a lot. It wasn’t a surprise. But it was a gift, knowing I gave him that, feeling it, knowing that was all for me.

And wanting it.

Chace growled down my throat.

Oh my fraking, fraking Lord, but I liked that a whole lot more.

His hips jerked away, his torso came up, my eyes slowly opened and his hand went to my belt. I felt it tugging as my hands went back to his shirt.

I clumsily managed to get two more buttons undone before the zip went down on my jeans and I heard Chace’s gruff, thick, deeper than normal voice call, “Faye.”

My eyes moved to his and not even knowing why, just feeling the word come from deep in my soul, needing to say it, needing him to get it, I whispered, “Please.”

His hot eyes holding mine, his hand slid in. Straight in. Inside my panties, fingers curving around, his middle one pressing in and my hips left the bed to push into his hand as my eyes closed. I felt my lips part, but mostly I felt nothing but how unbelievably awesome it was to have Chace’s hand down my pants.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” I vaguely heard him mutter then when his finger moved and I started to understand what heaven felt like, I equally vaguely heard him order, “Want that mouth, baby.”

My chin tipped down instantly and he took it.

Oh jeez. That was better. Tons better.

Unable to do anything else, my fingers curled into his shirt tight. I held on and gave him my mouth, felt what he was doing with his finger and I held tense, my whole body, like if I let go, it would shatter.

He stopped kissing me long enough to murmur against my lips, “Move with me, Faye, your hips. Don’t fight it, give into it.”

My brain couldn’t process much but my body obviously heard his words because my hips started working with his hand. Sliding back to his forth, forth to his back and that was a whole lot better.

“Chace,” I breathed against his mouth.

“That’s it,” he whispered against mine.

Already built, it started pulsing, throbbing, it was going to explode.

I quit breathing.

Chace stopped his finger moving, slid one inside… inside… that would be inside me… and I gasped but then let no more air in or out.

“Faye, honey, breathe.”

I did what I was told and breathed, his finger slid out of me and started doing what it was doing before and his mouth took mine again in a kiss.

Through this, the phone rang twice.

Now I was there. I was there. I knew that feeling. I also knew it was going to be better than ever. The best. The absolute best.

I tore my mouth from his because I couldn’t take his tongue anymore. It was all too much, too much goodness. I shoved my face in his neck and gasped as it happened. Driving through me, making me clutch on tight, shove my face deep, buck my hips against his hand, the heat of it rushed through me, burning me to a cinder.

I was right. It was.

The absolute best.

When I came down, slowly, lazily, it felt like it took years and I didn’t care if I lost that time, it felt that good, the phone had stopped ringing and I was no longer on my back but on my side. My leg was thrown over Chace’s hip and one of his arms was tight around my waist, holding me close to his body. His other hand was in my hair, tucking my face in his throat. Both of my hands were still clutching his shirt.

My breathing started evening out, my fingers relaxed, my hands went flat against his back and I heard Chace gently ask the top of my head, “How you doin’?”

I was fine. I was beyond fine. I could die right there and be happy. Not, of course, that I wanted to do that but that was just how fine I was.

“I’m good,” I whispered.

“Good,” he whispered back.

I pressed deeper into Chace and his arm got tighter around me.

Then I closed my eyes tight and called, “Chace.”

“Right here, honey.”

I pressed my lips together and then I did what I had to do.

I announced, “There’s something you have to know.”

“I know it.”

I blinked at his immediate answer, this action leaving my eyes open but I was so surprised at his quick response, I didn’t have it in me to notice I was staring up close at his very attractive throat which was an opportunity I would normally take time to savor.

Then I asked, “You know it?”

“Yep.”

“You know what?”

“That I’m the first man to have his hand down your pants and later, I’m gonna be the first man who does other things to you too.”

Yep, he knew it.

Oh God.

I closed my eyes again and dipped my chin, uncertain whether to be embarrassed or whether, from his tone which was gentle, quiet but straightforward, not to be and his hand curled warm around the back of my neck.

I felt his lips on the top of my hair.

There he whispered, “Faye, darlin’, I want you to hear this and get it, what you just gave me was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever been given in… my… life. What you’ll give me later I know from what I’ve already had, not just now but since I’ve known you, will be even more beautiful. With me, anytime, anywhere, you’re safe. But of the anytime and anyplace you’re with me, the place you’re safest is right here, in my bed. You never have to be embarrassed. You can ask questions. You can react how you want. You can be who you are. If I’m doin’ something you don’t like, you can stop me. Nothin’ will ever happen in this bed that you’ll be uncomfortable with. I swear to you, baby. You’re safe here and you always will be.”

These words were awesome.

But still.

I took in an unsteady breath, opened my eyes and started falteringly to ask his throat, “You don’t think that I… I mean, that I haven’t… uh –”

He cut me off to say firmly, “No.”

“But, at my age, the fact that –”

“No, Faye.”

I took in another unsteady breath and whispered, “Really?”

His fingers gave my neck a gentle squeeze. I read his message and pulled in another halting breath before I gave him what he nonverbally asked for and tipped my head back.

His was already tipped down and his eyes immediately captured mine.

My teeth immediately captured my lower lip. His gaze went to my mouth before coming back to my eyes.

“You didn’t hear me which means you didn’t get me,” he said softly.

I let my lip go and mumbled, “Um…”

He dipped his head closer, touched his mouth to mine and pulled back half an inch before he whispered, “Baby, you gave that to someone else, it wouldn’t be mine. Now it’s mine. No one can ever have it. It’ll always be mine. I love it. I think it’s beautiful. So I absolutely do not think the town’s sweet, cute, pretty, shy librarian who held onto that for as long as you did then gave it to me is anything but really fuckin’ good.”

I could tell by the seriousness mingled with serious warmth in his eyes he meant that. All of it. All he’d said.

Every word.

And because he did, I smiled at him.

His eyes dropped to my mouth before they closed slowly. That warm, raw thing I’d seen over pizza and deep conversation our first date was sweeping through his handsome features before he did what he did that night. Eyes closed, he tipped his head forward so his forehead was touching mine.

“Chace,” I whispered, watched his eyes open and his head went back.

Then he announced, “Time to feed you.”

I blinked. His body moved as if he was going to move away from me but my arms tightened around him.

“Chace,” I called again, he stilled and looked at me.

Then something else hit me and since I had his attention, I had to say something about it.

So I did, but I didn’t say it.

I stammered it.

“I… uh, well, um… you know… uh, that is,” I finished on a rush, “what about you?”

His features cleared and it was then he smiled at me.

It was a new smile. Wicked.

And also wicked hot.

Oh my.

Then he said quietly, “Just had my hand down your pants, honey, still gotta know, how real can you take it right now?”

“Real?”

“Real.”

I didn’t know the answer to that question.

But he told me I was safe in that bed and since Chace stopped giving mixed messages, I’d never felt unsafe around him.

So I invited, “Sock it to me.”

He kept smiling his wicked smile, but it was now tinged with amusement. He rolled partly into me so I had no choice but to go to my back. He was partly on top of me and he pulled one arm from around me to plant a forearm in the bed beside me.

Then he looked down at me, dipped his face back to close and he said gently, “Later, for you, I’m gonna take my time. I’m gonna do everything I can to give you everything you need to prepare to take me. What I couldn’t know is if you take care of you. If you don’t, like it just did, it could go fast for you so this wouldn’t give me time to prepare you. Now,” his lips tipped up, “you’re good. It’ll give me the time I need. Then it’ll be good again for you and also for me.”

Okay, maybe I wasn’t ready for that kind of real. I knew this because I felt my cheeks warm.

Still, I mumbled, “Oh. Okay.”

Chace chuckled so I knew he didn’t miss my blush. He bent and brushed his mouth against mine before he lifted away again and whispered, “We’ll work up to straight talk about sex.”

This seemed like a good idea.

“I’d appreciate that,” I whispered back.

Chace’s body shook a little with his amusement. I didn’t have the chance to feel much of it because he rolled over me then pulled me out of bed and onto my feet.

It was at this point I realized my jeans were undone and I was wearing nothing up top but my emerald green, satin, demi-cup bra with the little, tight diagonal pleats across the cups and tiny edge of dove gray lace.

Chace was bent to tag my shirt off the floor and my hands quickly went to my jeans.

He straightened, his eyes dropped to my torso and stayed there as his hand came out to offer me my shirt and I got the zip up.

“Take that, I’ll do this,” he ordered, his hand not holding my shirt coming out to curl into my waistband and he tugged me to him.

I bit my lip, took the shirt and started to pull it on.

It was over my head and Chace’s fingers had done up my button and were working my belt when he muttered, “When we work up to straight talk, I’ll tell you exactly how I feel about your bra.”

Oh my fraking Lord.

Well, one thing about that, it was good to know the bra was a worthwhile purchase.

I yanked my shirt down and avoided Chace’s eyes.

He finished with my belt but used a finger hooked in the buckle to tug me even closer and the intimacy of this sent my eyes skidding to him.

“I’ll amend my statement in a way since you’re safe with me anywhere but especially in my bed and also especially in this room,” he told me the instant he got my eyes.

“Uh… okay,” I whispered, happy to hear it, even if it was mostly a repeated statement though not getting why he said it.

Chace, who had demonstrated often he could read me, read me. I knew this when he kept talking.

“What I’m sayin’, Faye, is, you’re avoiding my eyes because maybe you’re embarrassed or feelin’ shy and uncertain about what to do next.”

His hand came up, shifted my hair off my shoulder then curled around the side of my neck. But his eyes never left mine throughout this or when he used his finger hooked into my belt buckle to pull me even closer and his face dipped to mine.

“I like you,” he whispered. “I hope you’re gettin’ that. I like all I know about you even what I already knew that you were gonna tell me earlier. That bein’ that no one’s been in there. That is, no one now but me. And last, I like knowin’ the town’s cute, sweet, pretty, shy librarian who I’m datin’ wears sexy underwear.” His smile hit his eyes which were all I could see and he went on, “I like it a lot, baby. A fuckuva lot. So you got not one thing to be embarrassed, shy or uncertain about. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I whispered, giving him a small, relieved smile because I was relieved and not in a small way.

“Good,” he whispered back, lifted his chin, kissed my nose then let go of me in the two places he had hold of me but grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the room.

Seeing as my eyes were closed since he was kissing me and carrying me on the way to his room, on the way out of it, I could finally take in his house.

Which, as he moved me through it, was really nice. It was an extension of him. Masculine (very), good taste and western.

It was also massive. We kept going (and going and going!) and then finally hit an enormous room that was both family room and kitchen. They were enormous in their own right but put together they were massive. Not to mention his sectional which was the like I’d never seen before. It was, essentially, three full couches. Three.

I figured Misty lived here with him but I didn’t figure he lounged on his couch with her watching TV, mostly because he told me he spent zero time with her if he could help it. This meant that couch had been a couch for one. Which was crazy.

“Uh… you have a lot of room,” I noted as he led me to the kitchen.

“Yep,” he agreed.

“This is a lot of room for just one person,” I remarked as he stopped me by an island that could act as a guest bed for three adolescent children. Just pump up an air mattress, toss it on top and hope they didn’t roll off.

He didn’t reply to my remark.

Instead, he asked, “You drink red or white wine with tacos?”

I looked to him to see he was standing at his fridge. “Tacos?”

“Ground beef, packet seasoning, store bought shit to put on top. I’m not a cook. Don’t like doin’ it. But gotta eat and when I eat, I like to eat shit I like. If it comes out of a packet, so be it. They might not be Rosalinda’s or even close. But they don’t suck. So, we’re havin’ tacos.”

“I like tacos,” I informed him though I liked Rosalinda’s Mexican food better. You had to drive to Chantelle to get it, but Chantelle wasn’t very far and Rosalinda’s was so good, it was worth the trip. When I didn’t drive to Chantelle but I had a taste for tacos, I used the packet stuff too. So I decided to inform Chace of this fact. “I also make packet tacos, FYI.”

“Good to know,” he muttered, his lips tipped up then, “Red or white?”

“Red.”

He moved to a bottle of wine sitting on his counter.

I moved to a stool, pulled it out and hefted my booty on it.

“Room to grow.”

This was Chace. I stared at his back at his weird comment that came out of nowhere as he shifted to the side to open a drawer and pull out a corkscrew.

“Pardon?”

He nabbed the bottle, turned to me and his eyes locked on mine in a way I forgot how to breathe.

“Room to grow,” he repeated then explained. “Another thing that sucked about life when my future included Misty. Didn’t think I’d have what I wanted and what I wanted was why I got this place. I bought this house to put a woman in it then plant a family in it. So it’s big because I want three kids. Room to grow.”

Holy.

Frak.

“Room to grow,” I whispered breathily, unable to tear my eyes from his.

“Yep,” he answered firmly then asked. “You want kids?”

“Uh… yeah.” I was still whispering and it was still breathily.

“How many?” he went on.

“Three.”

Yep, still whispering. Yep, still breathy. Also, incidentally, it was the truth.

Chace smiled.

I quit breathing.

I forced my eyes from his and took in the bottle of wine.

Then I asked, “Didn’t you get champagne?”

“Fuck,” he muttered and my gaze went back to him. “Forgot.”

I was disappointed and tried to hide it but I still enquired, “You forgot the champagne?”

“No,” he answered, putting the bottle of red back on the counter. “You leadin’ the night tellin’ me you had a clean pair of panties in your purse, I forgot that I bought champagne at all.”

I bit my lip even though I got a little happy niggle that I was able to make him forget anything.

He grinned and I had a feeling, the way he did it, that he read my mind.

I had no time to react to this because he walked down a back hall and disappeared.

He came back with two trumpet shaped champagne flutes that had cute teeny, tiny little horseshoes etched around the bottom just above the stem. I didn’t know how but they managed to be classy and cool rather than looking kitschy like some of that kind of thing could look. Perhaps it was the etchings which were precise, almost elegant and not cartoony. Perhaps it was the quality of the crystal that was so clean and fine it showed prisms in his overhead lights. Whatever it was, they were awesome.

Chace set them on the island by me, his manner like they were no better than plastic and headed back to the fridge as I offered, “Anything I can do to help?”

He turned with the bottle of champagne, the fridge closing behind him and had his mouth open to speak when we both heard a knock on the door.

His eyes went in the direction of the front door. They were narrowed under drawn brows and his jaw had gone hard. It was kind of a scary look. But my eyes dropped to his shirt, which was untucked, the three buttons I’d unbuttoned were still unbuttoned and I saw a sprinkling of reddish brown chest hair. Not a thick, matte of hair but a short, sexy sprinkling.

By sexy I actually meant unbelievably fraking sexy.

My mouth started watering.

Chace would undoubtedly not think chest hair was sexy, but I knew whatever he was thinking were very unsexy thoughts when he growled, “Fuckin’ shit,” put the bottle on the counter by the glasses and came to me.

He ran his fingers through the length of my hair at the side, bent and whispered, “Be right back.” Then he kissed my forehead, his fingers left my hair and I twisted on my stool to watch him prowl (oh jeez, he was prowling) to the door.

Even with him prowling and impatient, my eyes watched him move, his broad shoulders not even close to being hidden by his shirt, his long legs in his jeans, his arms loose at his sides and it was, as ever, a good show.

Over dinner at my place that week, he’d told me he was a swimmer and ran track in high school and kept it up since then. He swam at the YMCA in Chantelle twice a week, ran five miles twice a week, ten miles once a week and had weights at his house where he did weight training twice a week.

This effort paid off for him in a big way and since he maintained his body and pushed it on occasion, he knew what it could do and the way he walked, in total command of his frame, communicated that.

I had a feeling with that and what had happened in his bedroom, this boded well for what Chace referred to as “later”. A shiver ran up my spine the likes I’d never felt before but I liked it a whole lot.

I smiled to myself and my eyes drifted to the champagne. I needed a drink. I’d had a Chace’s hand down my pants orgasm. That definitely called for champagne. I wanted to open the bottle but from our very first date, if Chace was with me, I’d not poured myself a drink or bought myself one.

It was then it occurred to me that Chace was kind of old-fashioned. He had no trouble with me cooking for him and serving up the food. But he didn’t want me to pour my own drink. He helped with dishes if he was at my place but he was strictly a dry and put away man. Strictly as in, there were clearly boundaries. Men didn’t wash. They dried and put away. Men didn’t serve up food. They poured drinks.

It was definitely old-fashioned.

It was also weirdly hot.

“Jesus, are you fuckin’ serious?” I heard him ask in what had to be a rude greeting then finish, “Jon, I’m off-duty. Very fuckin’ off-duty and this would be why I didn’t answer the fuckin’ phone.”

Right, Chace was cursing more than normal. He was pissed. I knew this but I had a feeling his pissed-ness had increased after finding out who was at the door.

“I know that but we need you on this one, Chace, or I wouldn’t be out here. You’re our most experienced detective,” another voice sounded.

“Frank might have passed the test only a few months ago but he’s been around these parts since birth, clean and on the job awhile. He’ll do fine,” Chace told him.

“It’s a murder, Chace.”

My breath left me and my body stilled.

“Fuck,” I heard Chace clip.

“Darren Newcomb,” Jon told him.

Suddenly, all the way from the front of the house, a white-hot current of electricity streamed through.

It was so intense, I twisted woodenly on my stool to face that way as Jon went on, “Brother, sorry, so sorry, brother, but he was found on the access road up to Miracle Ranch about ten feet from where they found your wife. And buddy, this sucks, I hate to share this shit, but Newcomb was done just like her.”

At these words, my body having a mind of its own, I ignored the terrifying current still streaming and moved quickly through the massive kitchen to the hall.

I saw through the hall that the front door was open, storm door closed. The uniformed policeman that was at the reception desk when I went to the Station was standing just inside Chace’s lit foyer. Chace’s body was still and his jaw in profile was hard, both in a way that made my heart clench.

Jon’s eyes cut to me when I moved through the hall then they cut to Chace. I saw them drop to his shirt, taking in the opened buttons and they came back to me. He shifted uncomfortably, likely reading into the situation somewhat inaccurately since the action wasn’t interrupted but reading accurately there was action.

This would normally mortify me.

But my focus was entirely on getting to Chace.

Which was what I did. Immediately, I moved into him. His arm came up in a distracted way, curling around my shoulders as I fitted my front to his side and my arms moved to circle his middle.

“Honey?” I called as he stared silently at Officer Jon.

When my word sounded, his body jerked slightly, he looked down at me and muttered, “Go back to the kitchen, darlin’.”

“I’m good here,” I refused gently, giving his middle squeeze.

He dipped his face close and repeated quietly, “Go back to the kitchen, baby.”

I pulled in breath, squared my shoulders, held his eyes and repeated (kind of), “Chace, honey, I’m good here.”

“Backbone,” he murmured, his gaze drifting around my head and shoulders then it sliced to Jon. “Send someone to check Harker’s Wood. I’ll get Faye sorted and then I’m on my way.”

Oh God. Holy frak.

Harker’s Wood.

I’d heard of Darren Newcomb but I didn’t know how. His name was just familiar.

But whoever he was, this had something to do with Misty.

“Frank’s already on that. Got a cruiser headin’ that way. Frank’s with the body,” Jon replied.

“Call him, tell him I’ll go to the body first. The wood second. Anyone on the family?” Chace returned.

Jon shifted uncomfortably again as he shook his head.

“Fuck,” Chace muttered then, “Right. Body, wood, then I’ll go to his family.”

I didn’t like that but even if I didn’t, it was his job. Unfortunately, murders were happening in Carnal on an alarmingly frequent basis. Well, that wasn’t true. Just Tonia Payne, a waitress who was killed by Dalton McIntyre. Then there was Neeta, Tate’s old girlfriend though she didn’t live in Carnal, she was just murdered by McIntyre who did live in Carnal and also did all his killing here. And, of course, Misty Keaton. But still, that was three people I semi-knew in the last few years when I’d lived there near to my whole life without a one.

Though I suspected even if you informed a hundred families a loved one had died or something bad had happened, it would never get any more fun.

“Right Chace,” Jon muttered then he looked at me. “Sorry, uh… Faye, is it?”

Like he didn’t know. I’d been with Chace at the Italian place, The Rooster and Bubba’s. The talk hadn’t come to me but I was no dummy. The town was buzzing.

Anyway, I’d given him my name at the police station three weeks ago.

“Yes, Faye.” I offered my hand but stayed close to Chace, with my other arm wrapped around his back. “Jon?”

“Jon, yeah.” He took my hand and gave it a squeeze while giving me a small smile appropriate to an introduction on the heels of giving the news that someone had been murdered. “Sorry to interrupt but, uh… nice to meet you, formal like.”

“You too, Jon,” I said quietly and pulled my hand away.

He let it go and looked up at Chace.

“See you, um… there,” he murmured, dipped his chin to me then walked to the door.

Chace gave my shoulders a squeeze. I read the command, dropped my arm and he followed Jon.

“Later,” he muttered, Jon looked over his shoulder at Chace, jerked up his chin then took off.

Chace closed the door and turned to me.

“I’ll just uh… go, um… find my purse and head home.”

I was thinking about where my purse might have gotten to so I jumped a little when I felt Chace’s hands settle on either side of my neck and my head tilted back to catch his eyes.

Then I caught my breath at what I saw.

“Please, honey,” he whispered, “make tacos. Eat ‘em. Watch television. Do whatever. But however it ends, when you go to sleep, crawl into my bed.”

Oh God.

I blinked, my belly warmed, my heart skipped, my hands came up to curl around his wrists and my mind couldn’t decide whether to be scared, excited or freaked.

“Chace –” I whispered back, not sure what else I was going to say but not getting the chance to say it.

His hands squeezed my neck, gripping firm but not hard. His face got closer. “Please, Faye, whatever this is, when I get home from it, I want to slide into my bed with you bein’ in it.”

“Okay,” I agreed quietly and it was Chace’s turn to blink.

“What?”

“Okay,” I repeated. “I’ll stay. I’ll eat tacos. I’ll watch TV. If you’re not home, I’ll go to sleep in your bed.”

His head moved away an inch but his voice was still soft when he asked, “Easy as that?”

“You want me here?” I asked back.

He didn’t answer that. That raw warmth washed through his face and he murmured, “Christ, Faye.”

I finished as if he answered yes.

“Then I’m here.”

His fingers gripped harder and he clipped a guttural, “Christ, Faye,” that hurt to hear but for some reason felt good all the same.

I squeezed his wrists. “Go, so you can get back. I’m hungry so I have to cook.” I rolled up on my toes and concluded, “I’ll leave the champagne for tomorrow.”

It was then his hands at my neck gave me a rough jerk toward him but he didn’t kiss me. His hands left my neck so his arms could close around me tight.

And he hugged me.

I closed my eyes, wrapped my arms around him and pressed my cheek to his chest because it felt good.

It also felt bad and this was because I knew he was feeling something ugly and I couldn’t protect him from it. The only thing I could do was sleep in his bed as he asked. And that meant so much to him; he man communicated it with a hug.

And really, if you communicated that way, who needed words?

That said it all.

I hugged him just as tight or as close as I could get seeing as he was stronger than me.

This lasted not long enough for me before I felt his lips at the top of my hair and he said, “Dresser, middle right are my tees. Tag one when you go to sleep, yeah?”

I nodded though I didn’t know about that. I’d brought a sexy nightie. I now had a conundrum. The sexy nightie (for Chace) or his tee (for me).

I didn’t choose before he kissed the top of my hair, gave me a squeeze and let me go.

But I felt the tips of his middle three fingers light under my chin and I again did as he silently commanded and gave him my face.

“This probably won’t go quick but I’ll get home soon’s I can.”

I nodded.

His fingers slid like a whisper over my jaw making the skin of my neck and cheek tingle in a good way as he whispered, “Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome, honey.”

He grinned, a small grin that didn’t reach his eyes. Then he bent his head and touched his mouth to mine.

I got another mouth touch after he went to his bedroom, I went to the kitchen and started rooting through for dinner fixin’s and he came back wearing his sweater, jacket and boots.

He left.

I made tacos. I ate tacos.

I put the leftovers in one of those reusable but disposable tubs that Chace, upon inspection, seemed to have a lot of.

I watched his big flat screen TV.

When the clock was about to strike midnight, I took off my makeup, moisturized, brushed my teeth, put on my sexy nightie and slid into Chace’s bed.

I thought I’d never get to sleep, what with where my body was resting. A place it had never rested in twenty-nine years, not only it being Chace’s bed, but any man’s.

But his mattress was the fraking bomb. It felt like a firm cloud.

So, seconds after my head hit one of his pillows, I was out like a light.