Dancer (10 page)

Wasn't it?

12

I
t stunned me when Chase didn't press charges. No one knew what had happened. He told Sherrie he'd left that week to decide what to do about their relationship. I figured it was closer to the truth than he realized.

In a mad rush to destroy signs of Chase's presence, I stripped the bed and washed those hideous blood-stained sheets.

Blood stains were difficult to remove, as I discovered. So I balled up the sheets and tossed them in the outdoor trash, praying someone wouldn't stumble across them in the future.

Mom and Dad cut short their vacation to return home for Allison's memorial.

This service took place amidst a floral garden which smothered the rooftop of a conservatory. A skyline view formed the stunning backdrop.

Dozens of family and friends attended. We watched as Lucy scattered her daughter's ashes over the vast city. A breeze lifted and swirled the ashes until they vanished, freeing Allison's spirit.

A fitting ceremony. She'd always been free.

Was I? Was I freed from my pain? No. I'd never get over Allison or what happened. Therapy
might
help.

I released a yellow rose. It tumbled below and gradually diminished.

While turning to leave, I saw him.

Chase carried a single yellow rose for Allison. Handsomely dressed in an ebony suit and tie, he stopped when he noticed me.

It was all about forgiveness. Could I forgive him?

Could he forgive me?

I met him half-way and he swept me into his arms, held me tightly against him.

"I'm sorry about your friend," he softly said in my ear. "I swear I am. I swear..."

"Thank you."

"Will you meet me sometime?" he asked. "We need to talk."

We do?
"When?"

"I'm gonna be busy this week, so maybe next Friday night at nine. I'll come to your house."

"Sure. I suppose."

"Good." He parted and swaggered away, the rose swinging at his side.

Feeling like I was trapped in a bewildering dream or nightmare, I trudged in the opposite direction and widened the gap between us.

All week I stopped myself from dwelling on Chase's upcoming visit. Halted myself from guessing his intentions and biting my nails over his possible motives.

On Friday, Chase showed at five minutes past nine. I'd been watching the clock with its minute hand that traveled at a nerve-wracking pace.

As soon as he knocked, I bolted to the door.

"What's this about?" I asked, half-frantic. He stood on the exterior step, avoided eye contact and fidgeted. 

Moonlight cast a sheen on his tousled, sandy hair.

"Can I come in?" he finally asked.

"Oh yeah." I moved to the side. He passed and turned to face me.

"I'd still like to help you raise our son," he said. "I want to be a father to him even though I probably don't deserve it."

"Chase, you deserve it." And I meant it.

He gave a small smile that didn't warm his troubled eyes.

"Sam, can we talk in privacy somewhere?" He glanced in the living room where Mom was curled on the couch, reading. Dad had retired to bed.

Caught up in her romance book, Mom didn't notice us leaving. Besides it wasn't like I planned to put out for Chase. I took at face value his proposal to talk.

I led Chase upstairs to my room.

"I'm leaving Sherrie," he said when we perched on the bed.

"What does that have to do with me or the baby?"

"Everything." In that second our gazes locked and it dawned on me what he meant.

I couldn't believe it. The idea was too fantastic. Insane.

"Are you asking me—on a date or something?" I asked.

"I guess. Yeah I am. Will you?" His voice rose as his confidence returned.

Confidence and usual conceit.

"Chase..."

"Yeah?"

"I'm not ready. Not yet."

"Okay." Disappointment filled his eyes. "But I think it'd be better for our son if we were together—as a couple."

"Better for our son or better for you?" I questioned, then regretted it. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

He exhaled, buried his head in his hands. "Are you ever going to forgive me?"

"I already have."

"Then why not?" He raised his head, earnest as he regarded me. I wasn't familiar with such a look coming from
him
.

"Maybe because I'm afraid you haven't forgiven me."

Chase gripped my hand in his. "I'm not pissed off. Not anymore. I know why you did those—things. After I saw how Allison's death hurt you, that's when I knew how much of an ass I'd been."

"Really?"

"I'm not exactly sayin' you had a right to do those things. I'm saying I didn't have any right to use you, or treat you the way I did." He paused. "I really think we should try to work it out for Cole's sake. I don't want him growing up not knowing who I am."

"It's not good enough, Chase. It can't happen just for the baby's sake."

"I know. It wouldn't be for that reason alone. Sam, I'm
trying
to do the right thing and you're not making it easy." Anger flared in his eyes.

"I don't mean to make it hard on you," I reasoned. "I just can't trust you yet. It's too soon. Give it time. This isn't something we should force."

"I get what you're saying, but what are you afraid of? Me?"

I considered him for a long moment. "Yeah, I'm afraid of you. I'm also afraid of myself. I don't want us to make a mistake and end up hurting each other again. It scares me shitless."

Chase cracked a smile. "True. We got pretty nuts for a while, didn't we? I know it's not funny but... in some twisted way, it's fucking hilarious."

His grin was contagious. I averted my gaze and wagged my head, unable to fathom making light of those awful memories.

"This might seem crazy to you, but being your prisoner had its perks," he added. "It even kinda turned me on—sometimes."

Oh yeah. I remember.

"Come on, we won't fall into old habits," he said. "Give us a chance."

"Chase, we don't know each other well enough. All we have in common is our baby."

"It doesn't have to stay that way. We can get to know each other, we'll start over from the beginning. Do it the right way."

I shook my head.

"Come on, Samantha."

"Don't call me that."

"That's your name, isn't it?"

I shrugged.

"You don't know if that's your name?" he asked, sounding appalled.

"Stop it, Chase. I mean it."

"Stop what?"

"You know." 

"Okay. So as I was saying, let's start over. My name's Chase. What's yours, pretty girl?"

My gaze found his. "I'm not doing this."

"Sure you are. Now—what's your name, sweetheart? I'm Chase and it's great to meet you, if you'd ever tell me your damn name." He winked.

I didn't understand. What kind of weird game was this? How could I know whether or not he was toying with me?

He'd done it before.

"Your name, ma'am?" he joked, squeezing my hand. "Hello. I asked you for your name, cutie."

I heavily searched his eyes for sincerity. Chase showed genuine warmth with his gentle gaze and smiling lips.

His smile dissolved as he raised a hand to my cheek and caressed it.

"Sam, I won't hurt you and I seriously doubt you'll hurt me. I think we've both learned a lot from this shitty experience—er whatever you wanna call it."

But people can't change, don't you see?

"So—tell me your name."

"You already know it," I firmly said.

"No. Tell me."

"Samantha, dammit."

"Samantha Dammit? That's a pretty name. Sort of."

"Chase—"

"Yeah?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

"Whatever you want, miss Samantha Dammit." He leaned backward, stretched and reclined as if claiming my bed for himself. He folded his arms under his golden head and gazed up at me. Lengthy dancer's legs spread apart.

His T-shirt hiked up to expose a (sexy) navel surrounded by richly tanned skin. He didn't bother to conceal it.

"Tell me, Samantha, are you eighteen?" he asked in a husky voice.

I refused to dignify that. "I think it's time for you to leave, Chase."

"And I think not," he retorted with laughter.

"I think you should go," I said with less conviction than before.

"I think we should talk."

I froze when he rested a palm between my shoulders. Heat radiated from his hand.

"Alright. If you really want me to go..." He jumped to his feet and headed for the door. "I'm sorry to put so much pressure on you."

I noticed the absence of a ring on his left finger. "Where's your wedding band?"

He hesitated. "I told you—I'm fixing to leave Sherrie. I'm filing for divorce."

"Prove it."

"Huh?"

"Call her on my phone and tell her what you told me. Switch to speaker-phone because I want to hear everything."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. Do it if you really mean the things you said." I grabbed my mobile and placed it in his palm.

"Alright then," he muttered, no longer so confident.

He pressed in a number, held out the phone and returned my hearty stare as he spoke. 

Chase softly told Sherrie he planned to file for divorce. She started crying and he apologized profusely to her, obviously uncomfortable displaying his 'dirty laundry' in front of me.

Though it seemed cruel, this had to be done before I'd consider his proposal. I had to find out if he was being honest and even Sherrie deserved the truth.

I'd give myself six weeks to make a decision. In that time I'd ensure Chase wasn't sleeping with other women.

Did I really want to do this? Not really. Did I want to give him a second chance? No.

Was I inexplicably drawn to him? Yes.

Did I want Cole's daddy involved in his life? Yes.

Did I want to stop living beneath a grey cloud of negativity, give myself one last chance to love—and
be
loved?

Definitely.

13

C
hase and I talked throughout the night, keeping our voices low so we wouldn't disturb my parents.

As nighttime wore on, the further I relaxed and the less inhibited I became.

Chase never had those problems to begin with, of course.

While the hour grew later and later, we got so deeply involved in conversation that I lost track of time.

My eyelids drooped till I passed out—snuggled up to Chase.

I woke with a start, suddenly recalling who lay beside me; this man who wasn't supposed to be in my bedroom.

Regardless I fell back asleep.

Then I woke to the shocking feel of someone's hands stroking my swollen belly, migrating further to fondle my breasts and nipples, and the whispering of fabric as he gently removed my clothes.

Chase?

Drifting amidst dreams and reality, I blissfully allowed the easy caress of his wandering fingers and the feathery allure of his mouth as he kissed me full on the lips. He was rousing me, stirring me from within.

His lips tempted me by tasting my throat, nibbling my neck, leaving little wet spots that he'd occasionally dab with his tongue. He pressed his tongue against my throat, dragged it up to my chin and licked my parted lips.

"God, you are so beautiful," he whispered, panted. His lips pried mine widely apart to gain access for his slippery tongue. Groaning, he rhythmically stroked his tongue in and out, claiming my mouth in the same manner he'd claim my body.

"Mm, baby, baby. Wake up." Brief assault of kisses. "Sam, wake up. Oh god, baby I need you... Sam.
Samantha
."

I snapped awake.

Positioned above, naked and heavily breathing, he devoured me with a hungry gaze, his waist snug between my thighs. Chase dipped to my neck, sucked, stinging the delicate flesh as he threw himself forward in a desperate struggle to enter me.

Panicked screams died in my throat. Erotic pleasure intoxicated me.

"Let me have you... please say yes." He begged for an answer even as he rammed into me and pushed his cock farther, farther to fulfill my innermost depths.
Damn
.

"You didn't give me much choice," I accused, hating him, loving him, enjoying and needing him.