Chapter 15

15

MARIGOLD

I knew this was a mistake. Getting in any deeper with Chase would only make it hurt more when he walked away. But I couldn't resist him. So when he'd asked to come over after the Wildes' party, I couldn't say no.

The sex was fabulous, but it was so much more than that. There were already feelings swirling in my chest. I could love him so easily. I just wished he'd let me.

Tears pricked my eyes as he slowly thrust. He was strumming my G-spot at the same time as my soul.

My blood hummed in time with his rhythm. This man was it for me. I knew I'd never find anyone who could compare. He was sweet, caring, and amazing in bed.

No one would ever measure up to Chance St. Claire, and I was going to enjoy every second of this moment.

When he kissed me, I got lost in the feel of his body moving over mine, making me his. I'd never be the same after this, even if it ended after tonight.

The thought always in the back of my mind was that this moment was fleeting. I couldn't convince him to give us a chance. He needed to decide he could have it all.

Then Chance touched my clit, and I couldn't hold onto any of my thoughts. I let go and gave into the moment. I bit my lip hard, trying to hold back.

"I need you to come," Chance repeated, and I could see the strain on his face. He was waiting for me. "Let go, gorgeous girl."

Pleasure exploded in my body, the waves of satisfaction flowing through me. I loved that he saw me as beautiful. He was good for my ego.

He didn't think I was boring. When I opened the door, he couldn't resist touching me. I made him lose control.

He thrust a few more times before his orgasm hit, and he shuddered in my arms. He slowly lowered his weight on me. I enjoyed being so close to him.

A bit later, he rolled to the side, bringing me with him so I was cradled to his chest. "I wish I didn't have to get up."

"You wanted to use a condom," I teased.

He tipped my chin up so he could see my face. "You'd go bare with me?"

I licked my lips, loving the way his gaze tracked the motion. "I'm on birth control and clean."

"I am too." His expression was pensive.

"If you want to go without, I'm cool with it." Look at me handling this one-night, one-weekend stand with maturity. I didn't delude myself into thinking we could be anything more. It would signal a change in Chance's thinking I didn't think he was ready for.

"I'll keep that in mind." Then he collapsed on the bed. "You're continually surprising me."

I propped myself up on an elbow so I could see him easier. "How so?"

"You're wild in bed."

That made me feel a little self-conscious. "I think you make me feel free."

He caressed my cheek. "You're beautiful inside and out."

Pleasure filled my chest and threatened to continue the fall, the one where I crashed to the bottom of the cliff completely in love with Chance and watched him walk away.

"I'll be right back." He kissed me softly on the lips, then got up to take care of the condom.

How did I get here? I should have known any physical interaction with him was dangerous. But two nights in a row? I was a goner with no hope of surviving this without deep emotional wounds.

He was probably used to the one-night stands, the short-term vacation flings, but I wasn't made for this. When I loved someone, I did it with my whole heart.

I wanted to love and be loved. The problem was that the other person didn't always feel the same way. It made me insecure. And in this case, I had every reason to doubt Chance's intentions. He wasn't in this for a relationship.

He was holding himself back, which meant I had to protect my heart.

He sauntered into the room, his muscles on display as he walked. He climbed into the bed, his arms coming around me, holding me tight. "I could stay here forever."

"At least for the night," I said, not feeling confident about putting myself out there like that. I didn't think you were supposed to have sleepovers with one-night stands. Or whatever this was.

"I can do that." His breath tickled my cheek.

I was warm and content, full of Thanksgiving pie, and blissed-out from the orgasm, so I fell asleep quickly.

A buzzing sound woke me in the middle of the night. It was still dark, and when I realized it was coming from Chance's pants, I shook him awake. "Your phone's ringing."

Chance flew out of bed. "It's probably work."

I sat up in bed while he fished around for his phone. Then he listened to a voicemail. "It must have started snowing a few hours ago. The roads are slick, and there's a pile-up on the highway."

My heart sank as I leaned over to turn on the lamp. "You have to go in."

"I should." He immediately threw on his clothes, not even bothering to go to the bathroom to freshen up.

"Okay," I said, even though he hadn't waited for a response.

Chance stiffened when he realized I was waiting for him. "This is why a relationship is a bad idea."

"It's only a problem if you think it is." I suspected he didn't have to go in every time there was an emergency. He put too much pressure on himself. Like he was the only one who could handle any situation.

"You'd hate it eventually. I wouldn't do that to you."

He was acting like a martyr. If he refused to have a relationship, no one could get hurt. But I would be anyway.

He leaned over and kissed my forehead. "Go back to sleep."

Then he was gone, his footsteps heavy on the wood floor. I heard the door open, then close. I was positive he'd turned the lock for me. I didn't bother getting up to check it.

I turned off the lamp and snuggled under the covers that smelled like him. For some reason, his words and him walking out felt final.

If we were together, I wouldn't want him to change himself. But it wasn't healthy for him to be on call most of the time.

I felt bad for him. He was missing out on the best parts of life. The time you spent with family and friends. The chance to love someone and share your life with them.

But only he could decide what was right for him. It wasn't up to me to change him or convince him to be different.

Right now, his work was more important than anything else, and I wasn't sure that was ever going to change.

I had trouble sleeping because I was worried about Chance. I hadn't told him to be safe because he'd said he didn't like his mother worrying about his dad's safety. Instead, I tossed and turned, checking social media for any information on the multivehicle accident.

I finally fell asleep at dawn. When I woke up at ten, it was brighter outside, but I still felt groggy. I needed to write. I had lost valuable time yesterday.

I forced myself to get out of the bed that still smelled like Chance, vowing to put off washing the sheets for a few more days. I wanted my pillow to smell like him.

I let Oakley out, showered, then heated up leftovers, including the pie.

Most people were shopping or spending time with family, but this weekend had always been about me catching up on something, whether that was homework, cleaning, or writing. With my damp hair twisted in a bun on top of my head, I sat at the desk and opened my laptop.

Somehow, my story had morphed into something that was close to a comedy, and I didn't consider myself to be funny. I wasn't actually sure how that happened.

The little girl and her brother were determined to catch Santa in the act. They spent days making elaborate plans for possible traps, drawing various diagrams, then acting them out. They finally settled on three.

The scenes with the traps were easy to write. But I needed a way to bring in more characters. The play couldn't just be the parents and the kids.

I pulled out a sheet of paper and brainstormed possibilities. I finally settled on a holiday party. That was the easiest way to bring in more people.

It would be a funny scene with the kids disappearing to set up the traps that only the audience would know about. I could see the tree standing on the strip of stage that jutted out.

Energized, I outlined the party scene, knowing I'd fill in the details as I went. By the time I paused to stretch, it was dark out. I couldn't believe I'd worked the entire day .Other than letting Oakley out a few times, I hadn’t taken any breaks.

When I checked my messages, I had one from Scarlett asking what my plans were for the weekend. I typed out a quick message that I was finishing the play; therefore I was not to be disturbed. I was on a role, and I knew I could finish before the end of the weekend.

Scarlett's response was immediate.

Scarlett: Does this mean we can start rehearsing next week?

I shook my head, still not understanding how she had such faith in me and my writing.

Marigold: What if it sucks?

Scarlett: It will be perfect. I can't wait to read it.

She was so enthusiastic about everything, especially when it came to the theater.

Scarlett: I'm so lucky my best friend writes plays.

Marigold: Don't feel obligated to go with what I wrote. There are better writers out there.

Scarlett: Not with fresh content. We're so lucky to know you before you hit it big!

That made me pause.

Marigold: Hit it big? I'm a librarian.

Scarlett: You're a writer. Your plays have been performed on stage. Do you know how big that is?

Marigold: It helps to know the director who also happens to be…my best friend.

Scarlett: I know good plays, and yours are great.

Marigold: I'm not going to be on Broadway anytime soon.

Scarlett: But you could sell your plays to schools. They're the perfect length for a third-grade play or even middle school. High schools tend to pick big-name productions to draw people in and sell tickets. In the younger grades, the parents are coming anyway, so they are free to try something different.

My phone rang as I stood in front of my open fridge, my stomach rumbling. I pulled out the rest of the leftovers and hit Accept on the screen.

"Scarlett?" I asked as I set the phone aside and plated the food, placing it in the microwave.

"It was too much to text. I wanted to say that your plays are fresh. I've read through almost everything in your pile, and I love them. I think you can and should do something with these."

I stretched the kink in my neck. "I wouldn't even know where to start. There isn't an easy way to sell them."

"You make your own website, include samples and log lines of your scripts, then email schools. You can say that they've been performed at the local theater."

"I would think I'd need a school to pick one up to give it more weight."

"We can start with the local school. They used to do a spring play."

"You're not directing another play. That would be too much." Eli would be upset that I even suggested it.

"Let's just see what happens. We can give advice and guidance, but the teachers would be in charge."

"That's assuming the school goes for the idea. I bet the school board would have to approve it, which could take time."

"Your plays are always sweet and teach a lesson. What's not to love?"

I chewed my lower lip. "In this one, the kids are a little bit naughty?—"

"What are you talking about?" Scarlett's tone was sarcastic.

"The kids set traps for Santa. It ended up more of a comedy than anything else."

"Oh, my God. I love it. What's the lesson though?"

"I don't know if I have one." I chewed my lip because that was a problem.

"What happens in the end? Do they find Santa? Maybe he could deliver the lesson. Or it's something about belief. We have to believe in what we can't see."

I opened and closed my mouth, at a loss for words. It struck me that was the lesson Chance needed. He had to believe there was another way, and until he did, he'd sabotage any hope of happiness thrown his way.

"Or am I totally off base? I just act. I've never attempted to write a story. If you have something better, we'll go with that."

My head was starting to ache. "I've written most of the day, and I think I need a brain break."

"I'd love to help you, but I have a hot date on a rooftop."

"That's not fair." She had access to a kick-ass rooftop deck, complete with a pool and a hot tub, room service, and a hot man who was devoted to her.

"You'll get this too, one day." Scarlett sounded slightly distracted as if Eli was nearby.

I didn't want to think about what he was doing. "Are you saying I'll have a rooftop deck?"

I took the time to shovel the warm food into my mouth. Thanksgiving leftovers were the best.

It was quiet for a minute. Then she giggled. "What were we talking about?"

I sighed. "Your rooftop deck."

"I'm going to enjoy mine. Have a good night, Marigold!" she called as she hung up.

I shouldn't be jealous of my best friend, but I was. She had everything. A good man who wanted to settle down, the penthouse, and a rooftop deck. The icing on the cake was that they were building a house together on the property. From all reports, it was their dream house, and they weren't rushing any part of the build. Eli wanted it to be perfect for Scarlett.

There was a knock, and Oakley ran toward the door barking. I checked the window to find a black truck at the curb. What was Chance doing here?

As soon as I opened the door, he swept me into his arms, slamming the door shut with his foot because his arms were wrapped around me. He backed me up until I hit the wall behind me. His kiss was thorough and demanding.

My head was spinning by the time he pulled back. "That was quite a greeting."

"You were all I could think about today." He lifted me, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. Oakley was nipping at our heels as he carried me into the bedroom.

Chance looked down at Oakley with a sigh. "I hate to do this, but I'm going to put Oakley in the hallway."

"I don't mind."

He scooped up Oakley and spoke in a low voice. "Sorry, buddy."

I smiled.

"What?" Chance asked as he pulled off his long-sleeve shirt, distracting me with naked skin.

"You're sweet with him."

"Oakley? He's a puppy."

"It's easy, right?" I couldn't help but melt every time I saw Oakley and lately, it seemed, Chance. I was falling for both of them, and only one was ingrained to be loyal and true. The other one was a risk I was apparently willing to take, because I kept inviting him into my bed.

He pushed down his jeans and briefs, but I didn't make a move to do the same. When he was naked, he placed a knee on the bed. "What were you doing all day?"

"Writing." My brain was still fried, but I could appreciate that Chance was naked in my bedroom. It was like a dream come true. I'd spent the day doing what I loved and the evening receiving pleasure from the man I'd always wanted.

He nuzzled my neck. "Mmm."

I wished I was naked so I could feel his skin against mine.

He sucked lightly on the skin. "Did you get a lot of work done?"

"So much." I felt satisfied that I'd figured out the main plot of the play. Now I just needed to settle on the perfect ending. There was more pressure to this kind of writing because I knew it would be acted out. This wasn't something I was writing just for fun that would sit in a drawer for the next five years. I ran my hands down his back, appreciating the way his muscles flexed under my touch.

"You're wearing too many clothes."

"I kind of want to enjoy you removing them." I widened my legs so that his cock nudged against my pussy through my sweats.

"I should go slow and savor you—" He rested back on his feet.

But I knew he wouldn't. He couldn't get enough of me, and that was a heady feeling. Had he thought about me when he was out on that highway helping people? Had he wanted to come home to me? Did I soothe him on a soul-deep level? I wanted to be that person for him. The one that changed everything.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of my sweats and with a naughty grin pulled them down. "No panties?"

"I was just lounging around the house." I hadn't thought Chance would show up tonight. I had resigned myself to believing we were done. We'd had our fun, and the accident on the highway reminded him why we were a bad idea. Apparently, I was a habit he couldn't kick.

He pushed up the shirt I was wearing, revealing my bare breasts. "I should stop by on your off days more often."

"I don't walk around naked."

"Practically," he mumbled as he lowered his lips to my stomach. The muscles flexed and shivered under his mouth.

I wanted more, but I liked this slow approach too. I wasn't sure how much longer he'd give into his desires, but I intended to enjoy every minute.

He lifted his head. "All I could think about was getting back to you."

I curled my fingers in his still-damp hair. He must have gone home to shower, then driven to my place. He'd had many chances to change his mind, but he hadn't. I let that knowledge surge through me.

His lips trailed a path over my stomach, then higher to my breasts. I loved his mouth on me. He spent time on each nipple until I was aching for him. He was careful not to lower himself so that we were touching yet. I had a feeling if his dick came anywhere near my entrance, he wouldn't be able to resist slipping inside.

While he sucked on my nipple, his fingers separated my folds, gathering the wetness, then slipping inside. I widened my legs and arched into his touch, needing more. I wanted him to fill me in the way only he could.

With his finger inside of me, his thumb pressing on my clit, and his hot mouth on my nipples, I was a goner. I didn't stand a chance against him. I shattered into a million pieces.

"You're so beautiful when you come." His tone was full of admiration.

I was hot all over. I reached for him, needing him. "Should we use a condom?"

"We don't need to. I trust you." Chance was the most trustworthy, responsible guy out there. He was the one who had to jump over this hurdle. It meant something to him to remove that barrier between us. "This is dangerous."

I stilled. "Physically or emotionally?"

"Both," he growled.

He braced himself over me, and I savored the closeness of this position. Other people complained about missionary position, but I enjoyed being able to see his face, to feel him pressing against my body.

I cupped his cheek. "We don't have to. Only if you're comfortable." I wanted to be a safe place for him. The one person he didn't have to worry about.

He kissed me, his dick finally nudging my entrance. I widened my knees and arched my hips to meet him. The tip slid inside, and unlike the first time, it was intentional. We both knew what we were doing. Whether this was temporary or not, our coming together meant something. This wasn't just a fling or a one-night stand. There was real emotion behind everything we did. Whether Chance wanted to acknowledge it or not.

He slid farther inside, and I moaned, loving the feel of his cock. He could be the one for me. My imagination was running wild despite my best efforts. I closed my eyes, intending to enjoy the feel of him.

Chance paused. "Look at me."

I opened my eyes to find him braced above me, his muscles tight, his gaze on me. "That's better. I want to see your eyes."

My eyes stung a little at that comment. When had anyone ever said anything like that to me? This was personal. Intimate. The opposite of what you did if you were just in it for the physical pleasure. It had to mean something to him too.

He moved effortlessly inside me, easily building me up to a second orgasm. He always knew the right angle to hit my G-spot. He lowered his head and kissed me as if he couldn't bear to be apart from me.

When my orgasm crashed over me, his mouth was still on mine. A second later, he shuddered as he gave into his as well. He gathered me to him and rolled to his side so that we faced each other. "I don't have to leave to get rid of the condom."

"It's a little messier though." I felt the stickiness on my thighs.

Chance surged up. "I'll get a washcloth."

Was there nothing this man didn't take care of? He returned with a warm washcloth and carefully cleaned me. He tossed it into my laundry basket, then turned over to me and said, "It's hot to see my release seeping out of you."

"I never thought about that before. Probably because I've never gone without a condom."

"Me either."

That confession led to a few seconds of heavy silence. This wasn't something easy and carefree. There were real feelings on the line. I just hoped he didn't hurt me in the end. Because I saw the warning signs. I knew how this would end. I couldn't be upset when he walked away. We both knew that was what was going to happen.