Give Me Yesterday (17 page)

“Dare.” She smirks, thinking she’s won the game of hiding her truths.

“Take off all your clothes.”

“What the fuck?” she shrieks. “You’re a cheater!”

Shrugging my shoulders, I make a motion for her to take her clothes off.

“And if I refuse?”

“You still have to drink and take something off. Rules are rules, baby.”

She growls, all cute as fuck, and begins a slow, teasing journey of unbuttoning her blouse. I’m so mesmerized that by the time she’s let it fall to the floor, I’m hard as fucking stone and have already sucked down the bottle she was supposed to drink from.

“Like what you see?” she purrs.

I choke on my words and she laughs. My eyes never leave her pale, flesh colored lacy bra. That thing needs to be gone. Pronto.

“Jesus, Tori. Want to forfeit this game and renege on our no penetration rule?”

Her blazing blue eyes find my lust-filled ones. “I prefer making you as crazy as you make me. It’s fun. Now, truth or dare, Dr. Monroe?”

“So we’re playing doctor now?” I question with wagging eyebrows.

“Shut up and answer the question.”

“Dare.”

She pouts, obviously we both want a truth from each other that neither is willing to fork over. “Fine, um, you have to lick my toes.”

When I fall to my knees in front of her, she squeals. “Just kidding. Ew. Don’t do that. Um…”

Her voice trails off when my hands roam up her legs, eager to touch her slender thighs.

“Hmmm?” I question as I dip my lips to her heaving chest.

She slides her fingers into my hair and spreads her knees apart, giving me better access to her. I tongue her cleavage and grin when she gasps.

“Chase…you…please…”

While I squeeze one of her breasts, I sneak the other hand under her skirt. Using my fingers, I jerk aside her panties and push a finger into her.

“Oh!”

Her body is hot and so fucking wet. With each slow movement that I draw my finger in and out, I’m amazed at how tight her pussy grips my finger. She’ll feel so good when I finally make love to her.

“You like that, don’t you? Truth.”

“No,” she lies with a hiss the moment I curl my finger upwards, hitting her in just the right spot.

“Liar. Take your bra off.”

She whimpers but after a second of fumbling, her bra loosens around her. Never losing stride with my finger, I jerk her bra the rest of the way off. Her small, pale pink nipples are erect and beg to be colored and bruised.

“My God, baby. You’re so fucking gorgeous. I’m hanging on by a very tiny damn thread. A promise is a promise, though. Doesn’t mean I can’t make you beg for it anyway,” I say as I nip at her tit.

Her thighs clench together but with me between them, she’s powerless against the growing climax within her.

“You’re not supposed to make me feel,” she whines. “I don’t want to feel.”

Sliding my thumb over her clit, I massage her until she splinters apart before me. Her body quivers and shakes.

“Guess I’ll be manhandling those feelings too.” I grin and lift my head away from her breasts to throw her a smug look.

She gently pushes me away from her and my hand pops out of her making a sound that causes her to blush.

“You promised no penetration,” she sighs and leans back against the sofa, her gorgeous fucking tits on full display.

I smirk. “With my cock, which I’m really regretting. Now, put on some sexy pajamas before I manhandle your pussy too.”

“I think you’ve already done that. Three times to be exact,” she grumbles in faux annoyance as she strides over to her bags and fetches her clothes.

Once I’m stripped down to my boxers, I crawl into the bed and wave her over. Ever the responsible gal, she turns off all the lights after dressing, before climbing into my waiting arms.

“Baby?” I question as I haul her back to my bare chest and hug her to me.

“Hmm?”

“You’ll know when I manhandle that pussy. That’ll be the day that you’re dripping like a leaky faucet and walking like a fucking cowboy who rode one too many horses.”

She whimpers and it takes everything in me not to strip her down and fuck her as promised.

“Until then,” I say through a yawn and close my eyes, burying my face in her hair, “I’ll settle for finger fucking you until you can’t remember your own name.”

F
ucking hotel liquor. Ugh. And what the hell is that noise? I try to shift my position and find I’m weighed down by something large and hot. I wiggle again and the something groans, “Baby, quit squirming.” I freeze.

Chase is practically wrapped around me, snuggled up and plastered to my side. A leg thrown over both of mine, his face buried in my neck, and an arm stretched over my chest, his hand resting firmly on my breast. I don’t know how to catch my breath, and seriously? What is that damn noise?

“Chase.”

“Shhhh. Dr. Monroe is sleeping.”

I huff, “Chase, what is making that noise?”

“You, baby. Now shut it. I’m exceptionally comfy.” He emphasizes his statement with a squeeze to the boob in his palm. I try desperately to ignore the tingles spreading throughout my chest.

I manage to get my focus and clear away some of the cobwebs in my head. I realize I’m hearing “Blue Eyes” by Carey Brothers. “Chase, is that your phone?” He pries open an eye lid and glares at me. I don’t know how someone can glare with one eye, but somehow Chase manages it. Admittedly he looks really cute while doing it, too.

“Shit!” Chase’s exclamation startles me and suddenly the heat is gone and I’m mourning its loss. Chase runs to the round table in the corner of the room and snatches up his phone. “Shit! Up, babe. Get your sexy little ass in the shower.” His finger swipes the screen, then plucks up my phone and does the same. “Fuck. There went your parents’ first impression of me. You have four missed calls and two texts.” He glances back and sees I haven’t moved, since I’m too busy ogling his mostly naked body, the muscles, his smattering of chest hair, and the beautiful tattoo over his heart, which I haven’t had the nerve to ask about. He smirks and I roll my eyes and flip him off as I climb out of bed.

I yawn and wander toward my suitcase. Chase is frantically digging through his own, then pops up with clothes and spies me still in a funk. He hurries over and smacks my ass. “Get a move on, Tori. It’s almost noon.”

His words pierce my hungover fog. “What?” I screech and start running around grabbing anything and everything, before dashing to the bathroom. “What the fuck, Chase? We missed breakfast and the wedding starts in two hours!”

“We slept through the alarm,” he says from right behind me as if it’s no big deal. Startled, I spin around to see him standing just beyond the door jam, and both arms up, leaning on either side of the frame. “You’ve got to get a move on.” He continues to stand there and stare. The punk. “You know, it would be much more efficient to share the shower. Very practical.”

“You make a good point.” I grab the hem of my cami and slowly start to drag it up my stomach, watching his eyes become round as saucers and his mouth open slightly. I saunter toward him and watch his eyes get impossibly darker, as my tongue darts out and wets my bottom lip. I reach the entrance and put my hand on the back of the door, looking at him through hooded eyes.

“You want to get wet and naked with me, Chase?”

His gaze has been glued to the movement of my shirt, but now his head snaps up. He drops his arms and starts to step forward, and just as I expose the underside of my breasts, I slam the door in his face. I hastily lock it in the nick of time as the knob begins to jiggle. I quickly turn on the shower and start to strip.

“Tori,” his hoarse voice floats through the wooden barrier, “you are going to pay for that, babe.”

I stifle a giggle and hop in the shower. The warm water sluices over me and at first, it relaxes me, until the events of the day start to run circles in my head. I try not to think about what’s ahead. Shutting out images of my large family all gathered together to watch my cousin walk down the aisle. Visions of another wedding spark, and the jumbled pictures get my heart pumping. I can’t—can’t catch my breath. Spots start floating in front of me, my heart racing, chest panting as I try desperately to get some oxygen. A sob rips from deep inside. I reach out blindly and shut the water off, stumbling out and dropping onto the edge of the tub, putting my head between my legs.

I start running through the case I have on Monday, examining every argument, every bit of case law, every piece of evidence, and my heart begins to slow. A knock on the door brings me entirely out of my panic attack.

“Tori, open up!” Chase is pounding on the door and twisting the knob. “Open the fucking door, Tori!”

It’s then I realize he’s been calling to me and knocking for several minutes.

“I’m okay, Chase. I'm all right.”

My response doesn’t calm him and he continues causing a racket. I grab a towel and wrap it around me, and sigh knowing he’ll keep it up and have the people in the next room calling the police if I don’t give in. I unlock the door and it flies open, almost knocking me over. Chase grabs my arms and looks me up and down a few times, most likely looking for injury. When he finds none, he roughly pulls me into his chest, my head laying right over his racing heart.

“Baby, you can’t do that to me. You scared the fuck out of me.” He removes his arms from around me and grips my face. “Are you all right? What happened?”

I grimace because I know he isn’t going to let me bullshit this away. Despite my exceptionally talented bullshit skills in the courtroom, Chase seems to see right through all of my layers. It’s annoying. It’s scary. It’s incredible.

I drop my eyes to the ground, embarrassment flaming my cheeks. How do I explain it without admitting to a fit of anxiety? At first, I try to dance around it a little, “I was just having a moment… you know with everything coming up today. Sorry, I didn’t hear you. I was in my own little world, I guess.”

Chase lifts my chin and stares at me, his warm brown eyes narrowed behind the lenses of his cute glasses, and yep, he’s not going to let me off of the hook
. Shit.
“Tori, I could hear you crying, and it didn’t sound like the shedding of a few tears. Tell me what happened. This is what I’m here for, let me be here for you. Ease some of your pain.” He winks at me and my knees go a little weak. That awesome dimple appears with a sly smile. “Do I need to take you to the bed and give you something else to think about? I totally will, babe. I would do that,
for you
.”

I laugh and smack him on the chest, with an eye roll.
For me, ha!
“You’re hilarious, Chase,” I mumble sarcastically.

His expression gets soft, and he runs his thumb over my bottom lip. “There’s that smile.” He kisses me sweetly, still holding my face with two hands. Then his eyes get serious again, his eye brows dropping low. “Tori, were you having a panic attack?” His eyes bore into mine, and I’m unable to look away because of his grasp on my cheeks. “You can be honest with me. I’ve been there. I get it.”

My eyes start to burn and I scrunch my nose to alleviate the tingle, trying desperately to hold off a fresh wave of tears. I wish he really did get it. I want someone to truly know what I’m feeling.

“I’ve been in that place where you have no control, and you can’t breathe through the tightness in your chest. The only place you find comfort is in a dark, tight space, where the world cannot get to you. I understand what it’s like to not recognize yourself in that moment. To wonder if it’s you that this is actually happening to, if you’ve completely lost your mind, or if you’re standing on the sidelines, aching for that person, watching them slowly splinter apart.” He rubs at the ink over his heart and his words bring me a smidgen of comfort. He may not know the same pain, but he has felt the terrorizing fear of panic, being swallowed by anxiety.

He tucks my head under his chin with a soft kiss and rubs gentle circles on my back until I’m much calmer. He kisses my head again and lets me go. “You okay to finish getting ready, babe?” I nod, and move to the vanity where I retrieve the blow dryer from underneath the sink. I stand back up and meet Chase’s amused expression, his eyes twinkling. “Trying to get a free peep show Ms. Larkin?” His hands come to the elastic band of his boxers. “Lucky you, I have a Sunday Special. No charge.” He winks and as the boxers begin to drop, I practically squeak and dash out into the bedroom, Chase’s laughter ringing behind me.