Anyway, I’d given him my name at the police station three weeks ago.
“Yes, Faye.” I offered my hand but stayed close to Chace, with my other arm wrapped around his back. “Jon?”
“Jon, yeah.” He took my hand and gave it a squeeze while giving me a small smile appropriate to an introduction on the heels of giving the news that someone had been murdered. “Sorry to interrupt but, uh… nice to meet you, formal like.”
“You too, Jon,” I said quietly and pulled my hand away.
He let it go and looked up at Chace.
“See you, um… there,” he murmured, dipped his chin to me then walked to the door.
Chace gave my shoulders a squeeze. I read the command, dropped my arm and he followed Jon.
“Later,” he muttered, Jon looked over his shoulder at Chace, jerked up his chin then took off.
Chace closed the door and turned to me.
“I’ll just uh… go, um… find my purse and head home.”
I was thinking about where my purse might have gotten to so I jumped a little when I felt Chace’s hands settle on either side of my neck and my head tilted back to catch his eyes.
Then I caught my breath at what I saw.
“Please, honey,” he whispered, “make tacos. Eat ‘em. Watch television. Do whatever. But however it ends, when you go to sleep, crawl into my bed.”
Oh God.
I blinked, my belly warmed, my heart skipped, my hands came up to curl around his wrists and my mind couldn’t decide whether to be scared, excited or freaked.
“Chace –” I whispered back, not sure what else I was going to say but not getting the chance to say it.
His hands squeezed my neck, gripping firm but not hard. His face got closer. “Please, Faye, whatever this is, when I get home from it, I want to slide into my bed with you bein’ in it.”
“Okay,” I agreed quietly and it was Chace’s turn to blink.
“What?”
“Okay,” I repeated. “I’ll stay. I’ll eat tacos. I’ll watch TV. If you’re not home, I’ll go to sleep in your bed.”
His head moved away an inch but his voice was still soft when he asked, “Easy as that?”
“You want me here?” I asked back.
He didn’t answer that. That raw warmth washed through his face and he murmured, “Christ, Faye.”
I finished as if he answered yes.
“Then I’m here.”
His fingers gripped harder and he clipped a guttural, “Christ, Faye,” that hurt to hear but for some reason felt good all the same.
I squeezed his wrists. “Go, so you can get back. I’m hungry so I have to cook.” I rolled up on my toes and concluded, “I’ll leave the champagne for tomorrow.”
It was then his hands at my neck gave me a rough jerk toward him but he didn’t kiss me. His hands left my neck so his arms could close around me tight.
And he hugged me.
I closed my eyes, wrapped my arms around him and pressed my cheek to his chest because it felt good.
It also felt bad and this was because I knew he was feeling something ugly and I couldn’t protect him from it. The only thing I could do was sleep in his bed as he asked. And that meant so much to him; he man communicated it with a hug.
And really, if you communicated that way, who needed words?
That said it all.
I hugged him just as tight or as close as I could get seeing as he was stronger than me.
This lasted not long enough for me before I felt his lips at the top of my hair and he said, “Dresser, middle right are my tees. Tag one when you go to sleep, yeah?”
I nodded though I didn’t know about that. I’d brought a sexy nightie. I now had a conundrum. The sexy nightie (for Chace) or his tee (for me).
I didn’t choose before he kissed the top of my hair, gave me a squeeze and let me go.
But I felt the tips of his middle three fingers light under my chin and I again did as he silently commanded and gave him my face.
“This probably won’t go quick but I’ll get home soon’s I can.”
I nodded.
His fingers slid like a whisper over my jaw making the skin of my neck and cheek tingle in a good way as he whispered, “Thank you, baby.”
“You’re welcome, honey.”
He grinned, a small grin that didn’t reach his eyes. Then he bent his head and touched his mouth to mine.
I got another mouth touch after he went to his bedroom, I went to the kitchen and started rooting through for dinner fixin’s and he came back wearing his sweater, jacket and boots.
He left.
I made tacos. I ate tacos.
I put the leftovers in one of those reusable but disposable tubs that Chace, upon inspection, seemed to have a lot of.
I watched his big flat screen TV.
When the clock was about to strike midnight, I took off my makeup, moisturized, brushed my teeth, put on my sexy nightie and slid into Chace’s bed.
I thought I’d never get to sleep, what with where my body was resting. A place it had never rested in twenty-nine years, not only it being Chace’s bed, but any man’s.
But his mattress was the fraking bomb. It felt like a firm cloud.
So, seconds after my head hit one of his pillows, I was out like a light.
Chapter Nine
Worth the Wait
I swam up from sleep, feeling warm, delicious, my eyes fluttering open and closed as I felt weird sensations at my back and waist.
My eyes kept fluttering as a warm body fitted itself to the curve of mine, a strong arm circled my belly and pulled gently back so my warm body fit snugger into the one behind me.
Chace was home.
“Honey?” I called, my voice barely audible.
His arm around my belly gave me a squeeze. “Go back to sleep, baby.”
God, he really felt nice. Everything felt nice. His awesome mattress. The down comforter over us. Pillows that were just the right mixture of firm and yielding. The warm cocoon we were in. Chace the length of me, holding me close.
Then where he’d been, why he’d been there and the nuance of Misty that was attached to it penetrated. My eyes quit fluttering, my consciousness quit doing the same and I came awake.
“Are you okay?” I whispered.
“Go back to sleep, Faye,” he whispered back.
I laid there in the curve of his body, beyond comfortable, warm, safe, having had a nice night in a nice house and not being out in the cold dark investigating a murder and telling a family someone they loved was dead.
Then I moved my hand to his at my belly.
When I asked it this time, it was firmer.