Chapter 20

Lucy

The moment Chance walks through my door, midway through the following week, I can tell he's been caged too long. His eyes scan the room, darting from one corner to the next. It's clear he's agitated.

"Rough day?" I ask, though the answer is written all over him.

He exhales, a gust of relief, and I'm acutely aware of how much I've missed him, though it's only been hours and I had a full day of school to keep me occupied. We've spent every night together since our relationship changed. "You could say that," he replies as he wraps his arms around me.

As we press together in the living room, I can feel his erection against my hip. I reach down and gently run my hand along its length. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

Our kiss deepens, his lips leaving a trail of heat on my skin. I slide my hand under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin as I explore the muscles of his abdomen. I trace the lines of his belly, teasing the hair that dusts his lower stomach. As his kiss becomes more urgent, he thrusts his hips forward.

I lower to my knees and unbuckle his pants. His cock almost leaps into my face. "Anxious, aren't we?" I tease.

"You have no idea. I need this."

I cradle his ass in my hands, pulling him closer as I take him into my mouth. He groans, a low, hungry sound that vibrates against my lips, urging me on. I swirl my tongue around the tip, then sink down, taking him deeper. His flavor fills my senses, and I suck hard, teasing the sensitive skin on the underside of his shaft. He thrusts against me, his hips bucking in time with my movements.

Before he can finish, he pulls me up, and his lips again find mine.

Our mouths lock together, tongues twisting and dancing in a matrix of passion. He presses me against the wall, hands roving over my body, his touch making every nerve ending come alive. Soon, all that exists is this moment, this connection.

His hand slips under my sweater, and he rolls my nipple between his fingers.

"Yessss," I hiss. I rock back and forth, looking for friction. Any kind I can find. This man lights my body on fire. "Pleeeeeasssse," I moan.

In moments, he's pulling my jeans away as I lie on the couch.

He stares at my naked body. "You're fucking perfect."

I gasp as his fingers explore, sending waves of pleasure through my body. I cling to his shoulders, nails digging in as the intensity overwhelms me.

He pulls his fingers away, leaving me panting and desperate for more. His gaze locks with mine a moment before he looks around. "Where did my pants end up? I need a condom."

"No, you don't— I mean, if you don't want to. I'm clean, and I've had the shot."

His head drops back toward the ceiling, and he smiles. "Damn."

In that moment, I know that whatever comes next will be unforgettable.

With a low groan, he pushes himself inside, filling me completely. I arch my back, crying out in a mix of pain and pleasure. He pauses, allowing me to adjust to his size.

He thrusts again, his hips grinding into me. The rhythm is powerful, and I can feel it growing stronger with each passing second. I cling to his back as I try to anchor myself.

His fingers find their way back to my core, and he strums my clit as he pivots in and out. I gasp. He gives me everything I need and then some. This man, this connection, is all I want right now. I fall apart, and just as I'm regaining control, he gives one final thrust and then stills, his body shuddering against mine. His warm release fills me.

His eyes never leave mine as he moves closer. His hands cradle my face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that have formed in the corners of my eyes as he kisses me.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

I nod. "I'm more than okay," I whisper. "Let me know when you're ready to go again."

He throws his head back and laughs.

I want to hold myself back, keep my heart shielded. I'm not na?ve enough to miss the signs of my own spiraling emotions. But when he looks at me with that warm intensity that seems reserved just for me, my defenses disappear and something else starts to bloom.

"Let's go out tonight," he suggests, his voice vibrant with pent-up energy. "Do something spontaneous."

The proposition is tempting, thrilling even, but a part of me hesitates. Chance is like a comet streaking across my night sky—brilliant and possibly fleeting. I'm drawn to his light, but comets are notorious for their brief visits. I'm probably just a stop on his orbit, a rebound from the celestial body he left behind.

"Spontaneous sounds perfect," I find myself saying anyway, because despite the warning sirens in my head, I'm already tumbling, helpless, into my feelings for him.

We shower and dress, and as we step outside a little while later, I can feel the electric buzz of his restlessness. It's contagious.

"Thanks for coming out with me," he says, tossing an arm around my shoulders, carefree as we move through the cooling twilight. "This is the perfect counterpoint to what I endured earlier. I think I would have gone crazy if I'd to sit through one more budget forecast today."

I laugh, leaning into him. The thought that I might be just a distraction doesn't fully vanish, but right now, with Chance's laughter mixing with mine, I let myself fall a little harder. Maybe being the rebound isn't so bad if it means I get to be caught in his whirlwind, even if it's just for now.

The cool breeze whispers between us as we stroll down the sidewalk, our steps in sync. Chance's hand finds mine, our fingers intertwining.

"Where are we going for dinner?" I ask.

"Surprise." He winks, the mischievous glint in his eyes stirring butterflies in my stomach.

My phone vibrates against my hip. One glance at the caller ID and my chest tightens— Dad .

"Sorry, hold on," I murmur, releasing Chance's hand to take the call. "Hey, Dad. What's up? Chance and I were just heading out to dinner."

"I'm so sorry to do this to you. Beatrice isn't showing up again. I need you to cover her shift tonight." Dad's voice is apologetic but firm, a tone I've come to recognize all too well.

"Did you try anyone else?"

"Janelle is behind because she covered last week. If you do this tonight, I promise I won't call you next time."

I sigh. "Okay, I'll be there soon," I reply, masking my disappointment .

"Thanks, love. You're a lifesaver."

Ending the call, I look up at Chance, expecting frustration. Instead, his brow furrows with concern. "Everything okay?"

"Beatrice bailed. Again." I shrug, trying to keep the mood light, but heaviness settles in my chest. "I have to go into Barney's. Raincheck on dinner?"

"Mind if I tag along?" he asks. "I'm not letting you get away that easily."

"Are you sure?" I hesitate, torn between wanting him by my side and fearing the strain it might put on this fragile thing between us.

"Absolutely." He smiles, reaching for my hand once more as we change direction.

"Thank you," I whisper, grateful yet guilty for pulling him into my messy world.

We drive over in my car, and as we enter Barney's, Chance nods at Griffin and Kent, who raise their glasses in greeting before returning to their conversation.

"Grab a seat with them," I suggest, heading behind the bar to tie on an apron. "I'll be right here."

Chance hesitates, then nods, making his way to their table. As I start pouring drinks, I can feel his gaze on me, protective and unwavering. I steal a glance and catch him scowling at a patron who looks a second too long in my direction. My heart swells with a complex of emotions—appreciation for his presence, sorrow for the night interrupted, and a deep-seated ache as I think about why I can never say no to Dad.

Dad is behind the bar, and I give him a look that I hope tells him I'm not happy to be here.

"Thank you for coming in" he says. "Evidently Beatrice is sick."

He really needs to remind her that her work visa is dependent on, you know, actually working. But right now, I'm too angry to have that conversation .

The night wears on, filled with clinking glasses and laughter, but through it all, Chance stays. With every protective glare and easy grin, he shows me that maybe I'm not just a rebound to him. Or that's what he thinks. But I'm not sure he can truly know at this point.

I slide a pint across the polished mahogany to a waiting hand, but my eyes stray again to the corner where Chance sits, his laughter mingling with Griffin's booming voice.

"Can you believe it?" Griffin slaps his knee, his face alight with excitement. "Tori and I are heading up to St. John for the entire summer. Fresh air, fishing—it'll be like being a kid again."

"Sounds amazing," Chance replies, and for a split second, our gazes lock.

"Amelia and I will be missing out on all your fish tales, I'm afraid," Kent chimes in, his British lilt cutting through the din. "We're off to London next week. Mum's not been well, and she could use the company."

"Family first." Griffin nods, clapping him on the back. "Always."

I tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear, watching as a group of women saunter up to the bar. They're all fluttering lashes and coy smiles as they order a round of cocktails, their attention fixed on the table where the doctors sit. I pour their drinks carefully, steeling myself against the unwelcome twist in my gut.

"Thanks," one of them purrs, brushing her fingertips against mine as she takes her drink. Her gaze drifts to Chance, lingering in obvious invitation.

Hockey players have puck bunnies, doctors seem to have on-call girls—the women who work at the hospital and are looking to snag a doctor. These seem more like call-room coochies, skanks that come to the pub looking for doctor sugar daddies.

But Chance, thankfully, doesn't bite. He remains engrossed in his conversation with Griffin and Kent, who are both happily married. The women huff in disappointment before flouncing away.

As the last stragglers from Barney's filter out into the night, I hang up my apron, and Chance and I head to his place. It's the first time he's invited me there. The air between us is charged with unspoken words and lingering glances, but we both pretend it's just another casual evening as we traverse across the bridge to North Van.

When we arrive, it's late, but an older woman steps out onto the porch.

"Lucy, this is Ginny," Chance introduces me to her. She has a kind face and a warm smile.

"Hi there!" Ginny greets me with enthusiasm. "You must be the girl who's got Chance acting like a teenager again. It's about time."

Her comment makes me blush, and I feel the weight of her gaze—friendly yet piercing.

"Chance just had this new tankless water heater installed for us, and let me tell you, it's a game-changer," she exclaims.

"Never-ending hot showers," Chance chimes in, grinning.

"Sounds heavenly," I respond, sharing a laugh with them and marveling at how domestic this feels.

As if on cue, Ginny leans closer. "Between you and me, he's quite the catch," she says. "Not just because of the fancy water heater."

"Okay, okay, that's enough," Chance cuts in, though there's no heat to his words, only a bashful sort of charm that makes him look boyish for a moment.

We bid Ginny goodbye not long after, with Chance walking me to the door of his apartment. He takes me in and shows me around the space. "Thanks for giving me a ride home."

"Anytime."

He runs his hand up my arm. "Are you sure you can't stay the night?"

"I have school in the morning, and already the night will be short. How about Friday night?"

He nods and kisses me softly. It's so hard to pull away, but we've spent so many nights together lately, and I need to protect my heart. I can't fool myself much longer, though. Chance already has my heart.