Take Me, Cowboy (8 page)

Which meant when it came to Sam's moods and general crankiness, Chase just dealt with it. And when it came to Anna...no more touching. No more... No more of any of that.

For one second, he allowed himself to replay the moment when she had unzipped his pants. When she had leaned forward and tasted him. When that white-hot streak of release had undone him completely.

He blinked. Yeah, he knew what he had been thinking. That it felt good. Amazing. Too good to stop her. But physical pleasure was cheap. A friendship like theirs represented years of investment. One simply wasn't worth sacrificing the other for. And now that he was thinking clearly he realized that. So that meant no more. No more. Never.

Next time he saw her, he was going to make sure she knew that.

Seven

A
nna was beneath three blankets, and she was starting to swelter. If she hadn't been too lazy to sit up and grab hold of her ice-cream container, she might not be quite so sweaty.

The fact that she was something of a cliché of what it meant to be a woman behind closed doors was not lost on her. Blankets, old movies, Ben & Jerry's. But hey, she spent most of the day up to her elbows in engine grease, so she supposed she was entitled to a few stereotypes.

She reached her spoon out from beneath the blankets and scraped the top of the ice cream in the container, gathering up a modest amount.

“Oklahoma!” she sang, humming the rest of the line while taking the bite of marshmallow and chocolate ice cream and sighing as the sugar did its good work. Full-fat dairy products were the way to happiness. Or at least the best way she knew to stop from obsessing.

Her phone buzzed and she looked down, cringing when she saw Chase's name. She swiped open the lock screen and read the message.

In your driveway. Didn't want to give you a heart attack.

Why are you in my dr—

She didn't get a chance to finish the message before there was a knock on her front door.

She closed her eyes, groaning. She really didn't want to deal with him right now. In fact, he was the last person on earth she wanted to deal with. He was the reason she was currently baking beneath a stack of blankets, seeking solace in the bosom of old movies.

Still, she couldn't ignore him. That would make things weirder. He was still her best friend, even if she had— Well, she wasn't going to think about what she had. If she ignored him, it would only cater to the weirdness. It would make events from earlier today seem more important than they needed to be. They did not need to be treated as though they were important.

Sure, she had never exactly done
that
with a man. Sure, she hadn't even had sexual contact of any kind with a man for the past several years. And sure, she had never had that kind of contact with Chase. But that was no reason to go assigning meaning. People got ribbons and stickers for their first trips to the dentist. They did not get them for giving their first blow job.

She groaned. Then she rolled off the couch, pushing herself into a standing position before she padded through the small living area to the entryway. She jerked the door open, pushing her hair out of her face and trying to look casual.

Too late, she realized that she was wearing her pajamas. Which were perfectly decent, in that they covered every inch of her body. But they were also baggy, fuzzy and covered in porcupines.

All things considered, it just wasn't the most glorious of moments.

“Hello,” she said, keeping her body firmly planted in the center of the doorway.

“Hi,” he returned. Then he proceeded to study her pajamas.

“Porcupines,” she informed him, just for something to say.

“Good choice. Not an obvious one.”

“I guess not. Considering they aren't all that cuddly. But neither am I. So maybe it's a more obvious choice than it originally appears.”

“Maybe. We'll have to debate animal-patterned pajama philosophy another time.”

“I guess. What exactly did you come here to debate if not that?”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Nothing. I just came to...check on you.”

“Sound of body and mind.”

“I see that. Except you're in your pajamas at seven o'clock.”

“I'm preparing for an evening in,” she said, planting her hand on her hip. “So pajamas are logical.”

“Okay.”

She frowned. “I'm fine.”

“Can I come in?”

She was frozen for a moment, not quite sure what to say. If she let him come in...well, she didn't feel entirely comfortable with the idea of letting him in. But if she didn't let him in, then she would be admitting that she was uncomfortable letting him in. Which would betray the fact that she actually wasn't really all that okay. She didn't want to do that, either.

No wonder she had avoided sexual contact for so long. It introduced all manner of things that she really didn't want to deal with.

“Sure,” she said finally, stepping to the side and allowing him entry.

He just stood there, filling up the entry. She had never really noticed that before. How large he was in the small space of her home. Because he was Chase, and his presence here shouldn't really be remarkable. It was now.

Because things had changed. She had changed them. She had kissed him the other day, and then...well, she had changed things.

“There. You are in,” she said, moving away from him and heading back into the living room. She took a seat on the couch, picking up the remote control and muting the TV.

“Movie night?”

“Every night is movie night with enough popcorn and a can-do attitude.”

“I admire your dedication. What's on?”

“Oklahoma!”

He raised his brows. “You haven't seen that enough times?”

“There is no such thing as seeing a musical too many times, Chase. Multiple viewings only enhance the experience.”

“Do they?”

“Sing-alongs, of course.”

“I should have known.”

She smiled, putting a blanket back over her lap, thinking of it as a sort of flannel shield. “You should know these things about me. Really, you should know everything about me.”

He cleared his throat, and the sudden awkwardness made her think of all the things he didn't know about her. And the things that he did know. It hit her then—of course, right then, as he was standing in front of her—just how revealing what had happened earlier was.

Giving a guy pleasure like that...well, a woman didn't do that unless she wanted him. It said a lot about how she felt. About how she had felt for an awfully long time. No matter that she had tried to quash it, the fact remained that she did feel attraction for him. Which he was obviously now completely aware of.

Silence fell like a boulder between them. Crushing, deadly.

“Anyway,” she said, the transition as subtle as a landslide. “Why exactly are you here?”

“I told you.”

“Right. Checking on me. I'm just not really sure why.”

“You know why,” he said, his tone muted.

“You check on every woman you have...encounters with?”

“You know I don't. But you're not every woman I have encounters with.”

“Still. I'm an adult woman. I'm neither shocked nor injured.”

She was probably both. Yes, she was definitely perilously close to being both.

He shifted, clearly uncomfortable. Which she hated, because they weren't uncomfortable with each other. Ever. Or they hadn't been before. “It would be rude of me not to make sure we aren't...okay.”

She patted herself down. “Yes. Okay. Okay?”

“No,” he said.

“No? What the hell, man? I said I'm fine. Do we have to stand around talking about it?”

“I think we might. Because I don't think you're fine.”

“That's bullshit, McCormack,” she said, rising from the couch and clutching her blanket to her chest. “Straight-up bullshit. Like you stepped in a big-ass pile somewhere out there and now you went and dragged it into my house.”

“If you were fine, you wouldn't be acting like this.”

“I'm sorry, how did you want me to act?”

“Like an adult, maybe?” he said, his dark brows locking together.

“Um, I am acting like an adult, Chase. I'm pretending that a really embarrassing mistake didn't happen, while I crush my regret and uncertainty beneath the weight of my caloric intake for the evening. What part of that isn't acting like an adult?”

“We're friends. This wasn't some random, forgettable hookup.”

“It is so forgettable,” she said, her voice taking on that brash, loud quality that hurt her own ears. That she was starting to despise. “I've already forgotten it.”

“How?”

“It's a penis, Chase, not the Sistine Chapel. My life was hardly going to be changed by the sight of it.”

He reached forward, grabbing hold of her arm and drawing her toward him. “Stop,” he bit out, his words hard, his expression focused.

“What are you doing?” she asked, some of her bravado slipping.

“Calling you on
your
bullshit, Anna.” He lowered his voice, his tone no less deadly. She'd never seen Chase like this. He didn't get like this. Chase was fun, and light. Well, except for last night when he'd kissed her. But even then, he hadn't been quite this serious. “I've known you for fifteen years. I know when your smile is hiding tears, little girl. I know when you're a whole mess of feelings behind that brick wall you put up to keep yourself separate from the world. And I sure as hell know when you aren't fine. So don't stand there and tell me that it didn't change anything, that it didn't mean anything. Even if you gave out BJs every day with lunch—and I know you don't—that would have still mattered because it's
us
. And we don't do that. It changed something, Anna, and don't you dare pretend it didn't.”

No.
No.
Her brain was screaming again, but this time she knew for sure what it was saying. It was all denial. She didn't want him to look at her as if he was searching for something, didn't want him to touch her as if it was only the beginning of something more. Didn't want him to see her. To see how scared she was. To see how unnerved and affected she was. To see how very, very not brave she was beneath the shield she held up to keep the world out.

He already knows it's a shield. And you're already screwed ten ways, because you can't hide from him and you never could.

He'd let her believe she could. And now he'd changed his mind. For some reason it was all over now. Well, she knew why. It had started with a dress and high heels and ended with an orgasm in her shop. He was right. It had changed things.

And she had a terrible, horrible feeling more was going to change before they could go back to normal.

If they ever could.

“Well,” she said, hearing her voice falter. Pretending she didn't. “I don't think anything needs to change.”

“Enough,” he said, his tone fierce.

Then, before she knew what was happening, he'd claimed her lips again in a kiss that ground every other kiss that had come before it into dust, before letting them blow away on the wind.

This was angry. Intense. Hot and hard. And it was happening in her house, in spite of the fact that she was holding a blanket and
Oklahoma!
was on mute in the background. It was her safe space, with her safe friend, and it was being wholly, utterly invaded.

By him.

It was confronting and uncomfortable and scary as hell. So she responded the only way she could. She got mad, too.

She grabbed hold of the front of his shirt, clinging to him tightly as she kissed him back. As she forced her tongue between his lips, claiming him before he could stake his claim on her.

She shifted, scraping her teeth lightly over his bottom lip before biting down. Hard.

He growled, wrapping his arms around her waist. She never felt small. Ever. She was a tall girl with a broad frame, but she was engulfed by Chase right now. His scent, his strength. He was all hard muscle against her, his heart thundering beneath her hands, which were pinned between their bodies.

She didn't know what was happening, except that right now, kissing him might be safer than trying to talk to him.

It certainly felt better.

It let her be angry. Let her push back without saying anything. And more than that...he was an amazing kisser. He had taken her from zero to almost-there with one touch of his lips against hers.

He slid his hand down her back, cupping her butt and bringing her up even harder against him so she could feel him. All of him. And just how aroused he was.

He wanted her. Chase wanted her. Yes, he was pissed. Yes, he was...trying to prove a point with his tongue or whatever. But he couldn't fake a hard-on like that.

She was angry, but it was fading. Being blotted out by the arousal that was crackling in her veins like fireworks.

Suddenly, she found herself being lifted off the ground, before she was set down on the couch, Chase coming down over her, his expression hard, his eyes sharp as he looked down at her.

He pressed his hand over her stomach, pushing the hem of her shirt upward.

She should stop him. She didn't.

She watched as his strong, masculine hand pushed her shirt out of the way, revealing a wedge of skin. The contrast alone was enough to drive her crazy. Man, woman. Innocuous porcupine pajamas and sex.

Above all else, above anything else, there was Chase. Everything he made her feel. All of the things she had spent years trying
not
to feel. Years running from.

She couldn't run. Not now. Not only did she lack the strength, she lacked the desire. Because more than safety, more than sanity, she wanted him. Wanted him naked, over her, under her,
in
her.

He gripped the hem of her top and wrenched it over her head, the movement sudden, swift. As though he had reached the end of his patience and had no reserve to draw upon. That left her in nothing more than those ridiculous baggy pajama pants, resting low on her hips. She didn't have anything sexier underneath them, either.

But Chase didn't look at all disappointed. He didn't look away, either. Didn't have a faraway expression on his face. She wasn't sure why, but she had half expected to look up at him and be able to clearly identify that he was somewhere else in his mind, with someone else. But he was looking at her with a sharp focus, a kind of single-mindedness that no man, no
one
, had ever looked at her with before.

He knew. He knew who she was. And he was still hot for her. Still hard for her.