Thrill of the Chase (Dangerous Love) (17 page)

She complied immediately and undressed completely. He unbuckled his pants and kicked them off.

And then she sank to her knees.

“I’m not going to last long if you…”

He gasped as she first licked the tip of the head and then sucked him deep. She moaned as she let him fuck her mouth. He tangled his fingers in her hair, setting an excruciating pace.

“Suck it hard, Erin.”

The vibrations from her sweet hums increased the sensation, and he knew if he didn’t break free of her, he was going to spill his seed down her throat. It took an act of will to pull away and when he did, he couldn’t help but notice that she looked disappointed by the sudden disruption.

He lifted her up and carried her to the bed. “So beautiful,” he said, laying her down. She spread her legs and without another word he pushed into her with one powerful thrust.

“Chase!” she screamed, wrapping her legs around him. She grabbed his ass, grinding him into her even further.

“Ahh…Erin!” he moaned.

“Don’t…don’t ever leave me again,” she said, as he slid in and out of her with determined strokes.

“Never…I’ll never leave you,” he said, his voice breathless, his pants erratic.

He felt a deluge of warmth surround him and her body quaked beneath him. She arched her back as she shouted his name in a state of ecstasy. He erupted inside of her, giving himself to her…completely.

I
don’t think it is at all fair that you look absolutely perfect, with not a hair out of place, and I look as if I have been ravished all night,” she said, straightening her dress, trying her hardest to look somewhat presentable after their highly charged encounter in Chase’s hotel room.

“You look beautiful. I would be lying to you if I told you that I didn’t like how your hair gets tousled and those exquisite lips become slightly swollen as a result of me kissing you deeply,” he whispered as they walked hand in hand back to the banquet hall.

Erin was happy that they’d had the opportunity to spend some time together since he arrived back in town, because over the next hour, Chase was consumed by practically everyone in attendance. He shook their hands, thanked them for their contributions and made small talk when necessary. She would have been completely fine with remaining in the shadows, allowing Chase to be the diligent host, but he included her in every introduction and conversation. He also never let go of her. He either held her hand or had his arm wrapped around her waist the entire time. Erin didn’t know if he was being affectionate or if he was just being possessive. Surprisingly, Erin couldn’t care less which feeling motivated him to want to touch her. The feel of his strong fingers caressing her back or stroking her fingers made her feel cherished…maybe even loved.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asked.

Erin had declined the last time he had asked if she needed a beverage, as she was too nervous at the time to accept. Feeling a little more relaxed, Erin nodded and he whisked her away toward the bar.

“I’m guessing wine?” he asked.

Erin smiled. “I don’t think this crowd would appreciate me chugging from a Corona bottle. Do you?”

He kissed her cheek, leaving her skin hot and her heart fluttering. “You can have anything you like. I just recall you enjoying a glass of cold Chardonnay before downing a beer.”

Erin loved that he had remembered. Not that he knew the order in which she liked to consume alcoholic drinks, but that he paid attention to the little things, as if they truly mattered to him. “Yes, thank you,” she said. And it was during that small window of time, while Chase placed his drink order with the bartender, that Erin turned and found herself face-to-face with Dr. Mitchell Morris.

Not expecting to see her mentor from the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, Erin forgot how to speak for a moment. Gracious as always, he extended his hand, and when she went to shake it, Dr. Morris gently pulled her to him and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Erin, what a wonderful surprise,” he said. The warmth of his voice, a quality that she had found endearing during her time as a volunteer, was absent, and when she looked into his eyes, Erin noticed that he appeared to be scanning the crowd.

Erin finally regained the ability to form words and responded, “Thank you. It’s great to see you here tonight, though I shouldn’t be at all surprised to run into you at a benefit supporting cancer research.”

“Yes, it’s a small world, especially in medicine.” His eyes kept shifting from Erin to the crowd of people. It was so obvious that he was looking for someone that she had to mention it.

“Did you come here with someone, Dr. Morris?” Erin also started scanning the crowd, though she had no idea who she was looking for. “Did you bring your wife tonight?”

His gaze immediately fell on Erin at the mention of his wife. Erin suddenly had the feeling that she had said something terribly wrong.

“She passed away, Erin,” he said. His eyes looked tired and grief stricken.

“I’m so sorry. She was a lovely woman, and you spoke of her so often.”

“Thank you. That’s kind of you to say.” He smiled, though it didn’t resemble the natural grin that he flashed at his small patients, a grin that Erin knew contributed to one of the best bedside manners she had ever seen. “So, the last time we talked, you were heading to New York for med school.”

Erin’s hand started to tremble slightly, but before anyone could take notice, she felt Chase’s hand surround hers. The interruption was greatly appreciated, and she embraced the opportunity to introduce Chase to Dr. Morris.

. “I’m happy to finally meet you in person. Your research is remarkable. It continues to provide hope and inspires young doctors to plow forward and beat this devastating disease,” Chase said, shaking Dr. Morris’s hand.

“You mean young doctors like Ms. Whitley?” he asked, winking at her.

Chase squeezed her hand as if he understood that the conversation had reached a very uncomfortable level. But there was no way to avoid telling Dr. Morris that she had chosen to give up med school for the time being. Erin was just about to inform him of her decision that she had changed careers when he asked, “So, you look like you survived your first year of med school?”

Erin winced internally, knowing that what she was about to say would most likely disappoint him. They had worked closely together, with him taking the time to show her the ropes and teaching a volunteer peon such as herself the intricacies of the profession.

And she had thrown it all away.

Erin had done a successful job convincing herself that she had moved on from her past. But it occurred to her that her position at Montclair Pharmaceuticals, though not menial by any means, was just a way for her to hide from her demons. It was time to reclaim what was rightfully hers.

“I have been working in the research department at Montclair Pharmaceuticals for the past several months,” Erin said, her voice steady. She looked from Dr. Morris to Chase. “But it’s possible that I may have to resign in the very near future.”

Chase smiled at her, as if he predicted what she was about to say.

“It seems that med school has come calling once again. And this time, I have every intention of giving it the attention it deserves.”

“I can’t think of a better reason to accept someone’s resignation,” Chase said, his radiant smile reaching his blue eyes.

Erin blushed, not knowing exactly what to say. Luckily, Chase chuckled and said, “I would be lying if I said that I wished she would have followed her dream earlier.” Chase shifted his focus onto her. “Odds are…we would never have met if that was the case.”

She was touched and was apparently staring at Chase like such a lovesick teenager that Erin failed to realize that Dr. Morris had grown white as a sheet. He always had a pale complexion, but at the moment he looked as if he had seen a ghost. “Are you feeling well, Dr. Morris?” she asked.

Dr. Morris pulled a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit jacket. He dabbed his forehead with the white cotton cloth. “Oh, just a little warm is all.” He returned the hanky to his pocket.

“Are you certain?” Chase asked.

“Mr. Montclair, I’ve been a doctor longer than Erin has been alive,” Dr. Morris said, his tone playful.

Chase smiled, but from the look on his face, Erin got the feeling that he was also concerned about Dr. Morris.

“Yes, sir. Then, please join our table for dinner. It will give you two the opportunity to catch up,” Chase said.

“That would be wonderful, but I don’t want to intrude. In fact, I believe we have claimed our seats already,” Dr. Morris said.

“Oh. Who is accompanying you tonight?” Erin asked, not realizing until after the words escaped her mouth that she had no business asking him about his escort for the evening.

“My son,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

“Is he following in your footsteps?” Chase asked.

Dr. Morris hesitated and looked around the grand banquet hall. That tired look in the older man’s eyes seemed to morph into one that resembled worry. Something was definitely wrong.

“Not exactly,” he finally said. Dr. Morris turned, and his eyes seemed to lock on a gentleman who was walking in their direction. “Though he is an oncologist. He left Philadelphia and now practices medicine here in New York.”

Erin detected not an ounce of pride in Dr. Morris’s voice when he spoke about his son, which she found to be very odd. As the gentleman came closer, it occurred to her that she had met him before. Erin had been volunteering on the oncology floor when Dr. Morris’s son had paid his father a visit one morning…

She was discussing a patient with Dr. Morris when Scott Morris strolled into his father’s office. Erin remembered how strange it was that Dr. Morris didn’t introduce them; rather, he just kept speaking about the eleven-year-old patient down the hall, as if they were the only people in the room.

Finally, Scott Morris walked over to Erin and extended his hand. “You must be Erin Whitley,” he said. Erin was taken by surprise, as she had no idea how he knew her name. Erin stood there speechless as he provided her an explanation. “My father speaks about you often. Says we’ll be reading about you in medical journals one day.” He smiled. “But no pressure.”

She appreciated his humor and his attempt to lighten the conversation in a charming sort of way. “Oh, no…no pressure,” she said sarcastically. “And you are?”

“His son,” he said gesturing to Dr. Morris. “My name is Scott.”

A hand wrapped snugly around her waist, thrusting Erin back to the present. She could feel Chase stiffen beside her as he pulled her even closer to him. Erin knew most men could be possessive around other attractive, successful men. It was a territorial thing. But Chase wasn’t like most men. And he had no reason to be jealous. She had made it clear to him, over and over again, that she was his.

Erin watched Scott Morris approach. He appeared to glide through the crowd and as he drew closer, she felt her stomach muscles twist in a knot. Yes, he was quite good-looking, maybe even handsome, but her body’s response wasn’t prompted by his appearance and obvious self-confidence. Something else made her belly do somersaults. She just couldn’t put her finger on it or identify the origin of her adverse reaction to Dr. Morris’s son, a man whom she had met only once over a year ago.

Erin had no reason, no grounds to justify her uneasy feelings. She leaned into Chase and was relieved to feel his strong arms encircle her…protect her. What was going on with her?

“It’s nice to see you again, Erin,” Scott said. Erin’s stomach turned again as he uttered her name. She forced a smile and reciprocated the expected response.

Chase introduced himself to Scott Morris and shook his hand. The two men seemed to eye each other closely, and again, Erin felt that uneasy feeling in her gut escalate. “Care to join us for dinner?” Chase asked, looking from son to father.

Chase’s gaze stayed on Dr. Morris, as did Erin’s. Dr. Morris appeared anxious, no longer the calm and collected man who could weather any situation, any medical emergency. He had begun to perspire and again reached for the handkerchief in his breast pocket.

“We would be honored. Thank you,” Scott Morris said, forcing Erin to shift her attention from Dr. Morris for a moment. They made their way to their table. Chase was pulling out her seat when he saw Steven walking briskly through the crowd and heading straight toward them. Erin took her seat, positioning herself between Dr. Morris and Chase. Steven came up to their table and excused himself for the intrusion. “May I have a word with you, Chase?”

Chase looked down at her as if he needed her permission. Erin touched his arm and smiled. He bent down and whispered, “I’ll be right back.”

Erin was relieved to see their table fill up, taking her mind and attention away from the two doctors at her left. She turned to a couple across from her and engaged in small talk, a task she despised, but could successfully fake if deemed necessary.

Erin was doing a good job fielding questions, smiling at people she didn’t know and complimenting dresses that she couldn’t care less about when she spotted Chase across the hall. He was speaking to Steven, but there was no way Erin could make out what he was saying from that distance, though his facial expression suggested that he was agitated for some reason. Erin watched Chase run his fingers through his hair and then the two men shifted their focus to the banquet hall doors.

It may have been her imagination, but Erin swore that a hush fell over the room. She followed their gaze, though they were not the only men, or women, who were now staring at the beautiful woman who had just arrived…the woman who appeared to have captured the attention of everyone in the room, including Chase.

A
s he had done so many times before, Mitchell. Morris stared at his son and wondered where he went wrong as a parent. He and his wife had been married for over forty years, enabling his son to be brought up in a loving and intact family. Mitchell had worked tirelessly to provide for his family, though he had made certain that he was always available both emotionally and physically for his son. He had coached his Little League team, went to the back-to-school nights, and helped him with his homework on the rare occasions that Scott required assistance. Although Scott didn’t want for anything, Mitchell always emphasized the importance of discipline and a solid work ethic. But despite Mitchell’s best efforts and all those “attaboys” he had uttered, his son had turned into, or maybe he had always been, a monster.

Looking back, Mitchell had always known that his son was just…off. But even with numerous years of medical experience under his belt, Mitchell couldn’t explain what was wrong with Scott. It wasn’t like his son had lit the house on fire or mutilated a family pet. He had always come home with near-perfect grades and a discipline report from school to match. He had been a star athlete, earning himself scholarship offers from colleges all over the country. There had never been a solitary incident that would raise suspicion or eyebrows. He had said “please” and “thank you” and kissed his mother good-bye every morning before he left the house for school. From the outside looking in, he had been the ideal son. A son who would make any father proud.

But Mitchell knew better. Even before that horrific night, a night that evoked hellish nightmares and an internal struggle every waking moment of his life, Mitchell knew deep down the vile things his son was capable of. It was just a feeling Mitchell had and kept from his wife. Maybe it was the way Scott had looked at him even from a very early age. There was nothing behind his eyes, no love or genuine respect, only tolerance. It was as if Scott had been buying time all those years, waiting patiently until the day he no longer needed his father financially. And then there was the smug grin Scott would flash every so often, the one that never made it to his soulless eyes, the smile that made Mitchell shudder. As a man with genius intelligence, good looks and no remorse, Scott was the most dangerous person Mitchell had ever known. And the tragedy of it all was that he had looked the other way, hoping and praying that his gut, his usually spot-on intuition, was completely wrong. Mitchell had kept his feelings to himself, never letting on, even to his wife, that the son they had created was derived from nothing less than pure evil.

It would have crushed his sweet wife, and he had decided years before that he would protect her, both mentally and physically, from such a revelation. His wife had been in a fragile state for many years while battling a devastating heart condition. When she took a turn for the worst after a heart transplant, he decided, whether right or wrong, to allow his wife to live out her final days thinking that her lovely boy was the picture of perfection—the picture that many, he feared, saw when they met Scott.

But not Erin. Mitchell had watched closely as Scott shook Erin’s hand this evening. He had never seen Erin even slightly rattled. They had worked side by side while tending to patients for over a year. It took a special person to put herself in that position, a position which might require her to tell a helpless mother and father that their child’s cancer was too aggressive, that there was nothing anyone could do. But Erin’s resolve never wavered in the hospital; at least that was what she portrayed to him. She kept coming back for more, always asking questions, wanting to know everything she could to prepare for a career that was truly meant for her.

But the Erin he had seen tonight was a shadow of the woman she once was. She was still beautiful and charming and clearly smitten with Chase Montclair, but she had changed. That raging fire that he had always seen in her had dimmed. There was something different about her, and it sickened him to know what had derailed the dreams of a woman who now appeared…haunted.

“You’re sweating, Dad. Feeling okay?”

Mitchell turned to his son and stared into his cold, lifeless eyes. A malicious smile formed on Scott’s face, chilling him to the bone and reminding Mitchell in vivid detail of the night he had found is son lying in a pool of his own blood…

“Help me.”

The garbled plea was barely a whisper, but Mitchell knew instantly that it belonged to his son. Mitchell was leaving the hospital after a long day at work when he received the call. The parking lot was half-full, and as the gruff voice of his son echoed in his head, he picked up the pace and practically sprinted to his car.

“Where are you?” Mitchell asked. He didn’t ask his son what was wrong or if he was even hurt, which in hindsight seemed strange.

Mitchell heard his son cough, and in staggered speech he said, “Fourth and Market…in the cemetery.”

Mitchell’s phone went dead. He tried to call his son back, but it went straight to voice mail. The location his son gave him was only minutes away. He kept his eyes on the road while reaching to the backseat for the medical bag he always kept stowed away for emergencies.

The old, poorly lit cobblestone street was in the old section of Philadelphia. He pulled over haphazardly into a space he was uncertain was even a legal area for him to park in. With medical bag in hand, he entered the cemetery, only to find the most horrific scene he had ever encountered.

Covered in blood, his son was lying on the ground and struggling to breathe, his pants at his ankles. Mitchell ran over to him, and though it was not the time to theorize what had occurred or why his son was bleeding out, he couldn’t help himself. It was glaringly obvious and too difficult to disregard the evidence. Mitchell removed the ski mask from his son’s face and stuffed it into his coat pocket.

It didn’t take a detective to determine that his son was not the victim in this crime. But the inquisition would have to wait, if it was even going to take place. At that moment, Mitchell was unsure if his son was going to survive. He was pale, his pulse and breathing erratic.

“No…no hospital,” Scott choked out.

Mitchell knew it was an absolute gamble not to take him to the emergency room, where his son would have complete access to state-of-the-art facilities and care. But, not really knowing why at the time, he complied, gathered his son in his arms and carried him to his car. They drove to his private practice in silence.

Mitchell worked on his son for several hours. Working in the emergency room for a few years, he had seen injuries like this before. Broken ribs, a concussion, multiple abrasions requiring stitches, internal bleeding and punctured lungs were common ailments for a person who had been beaten and left for dead. And Mitchell had no doubt that had been the intention. Scott wasn’t supposed to leave that cemetery, at least not breathing. When daylight finally slithered through the blinds of the exam room, his son was sleeping soundly as a result of the heaviest pain meds he had on hand, which weren’t that powerful, and exhaustion.

Mitchell sat on the leather chair across from his patient. Scott’s vitals were being monitored by various machines, allowing Mitchell to focus his attention on another matter. He went over to the counter and sifted through his son’s belongings in search of his cell phone. The phone was covered in blood, and Mitchell assumed that it had acquired the blood when his son had called him at the hospital. Mitchell clicked into his recent emails and texts but didn’t find anything disturbing. He was about to shut the phone down when he noticed the Notes app. He pressed it and found what appeared to be a class schedule. He scrolled farther down and squinted. Detailed daily schedules for an unknown individual had been typed into his phone. Mitchell knew that the schedules didn’t belong to his son. Scott had already graduated from college and did not volunteer at the hospital at which Mitchell worked.

Mitchell looked at the unknown person’s volunteer schedule in particular. He or she apparently volunteered Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays from three to five in the evening. Mitchell felt nauseous. He knew someone, someone he had grown fond of over the past year, with that exact schedule. But he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. His hospital in particular was a teaching hospital, thus serving as a beacon for aspiring doctors. There were a dozen volunteers within the hospital walls at any given time. He succumbed to false hope that the schedule in his son’s phone did not belong to the young lady he had been working with for some time…that was, until he pressed on the camera app. In stunned silence, he leafed through hundreds of photos of Erin Whitley, his talented and most dedicated volunteer…and felt the overwhelming urge to vomit.

But his son’s voice stopped him from grabbing the trash can and emptying the contents of his stomach into it. “All these years of wondering…waiting. Tell me. Are you relieved to know it wasn’t your imagination?” Scott asked, his voice husky and somewhat choppy.

As a father, Mitchell wanted to lie. He wanted to say that it wasn’t a relief to learn that his son was a monster, that he hadn’t suspected what his only child was all these years. But when he looked into his son’s empty eyes, he knew that it served no purpose to negate the truth.

“Where is Erin?” Mitchell asked, his tone laced with disdain.

“At home I suppose.” Scott looked at him and smiled.

“You need help, son. I can make sure you get it,” Dr. Morris pleaded.

“What kind of help? Rehabilitation? Prison time? What do you have in mind?” Scott asked mockingly.

“Whatever it takes…whatever it takes to help you so you no longer have the need or desire to harm innocent women,” Mitchell said.

“It must be exhausting,” Scott said. He sighed and slowly shifted his weight while he lay on the exam table. Scott winced, but continued. “To continue to love someone, to put forth so much effort for so long, only to be met with disappointment. Even now, you’re trying to help me, your only son.”

There was not an ounce of gratitude or appreciation in his child’s voice. In fact, it sounded as if Scott was disgusted by him. The last remaining feelings of compassion Mitchell had for his son left him, causing him a pain he didn’t know existed.

“Let me be clear. Yes, I saved your life, allowing you to see another day, a decision I most likely will regret. And as long as your mother is still breathing, I will not say a word about what you are. It would kill her. But make no mistake, Scott. The world will know that you are a rapist and Erin will know who violated her. I will make certain of it.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Scott clapped. “It’s a shame that only now, after all these years, do I find you interesting.”

“We need to leave…now,” Mitchell whispered. There was no need to keep their voices down. Everyone seemed to be focused on some guests who had just walked through the banquet hall doors. People were whispering and gesturing to their table.

Scott reached for his wrist, preventing him from rising from his seat. “Of course. You don’t look well, Dad,” Scott said, his voice loud enough to draw Erin’s attention away from the woman who had just entered the banquet room.

Erin looked at him. “You do look quite pale,” she said, placing the back of her hand on his forehead.

Mitchell took her hand and gave it a pat. “I am a bit tired. I think I’ll retire for the night. It was nice seeing you again. Would you mind telling Mr. Montclair the reason behind our early departure?”

“Of course,” she smiled. Her eyes looked troubled and he hated himself more with each passing second.

Scott and Mitchell rose to their feet.

“It was nice to see you again, Erin. I would personally thank Mr. Montclair for a wonderful evening, but he seems occupied at the moment,” Scott said, gesturing to the brunette at the hall entrance. Scott smiled, and then turned and said, “Ready, Dad?”

Mitchell didn’t answer Scott. He watched Erin’s face fall as she looked at the woman everyone seemed to be captivated by. It was then that Mitchell knew that Scott was not finished with Erin. She was still the object of his obsession.