Powerful and Proud: Beneath the Veil of Paradise / In the Heat of the Spotlight / His Brand of Passion

‘What do you want, Chase?’

‘You. Just like you want me. But I think we have very different definitions of just what that means.’

She dragged a breath into her constricted lungs. Spots danced before her eyes. She was in way over her head now; she was drowning and she had no idea how to save herself. ‘I think we must,’ she finally managed, and Chase just grinned.

Chase watched Millie process what he said and wondered if she was going to pass out. She’d gone seriously pale. And admittedly he’d laid it on pretty thick. He didn’t even know why he was pushing so hard. He’d thought last night had been too intense, and yet today he’d upped the ante a hundred fold. He’d acted on instinct, telling her he was going to call the shots, not just because he didn’t want to be her toy-boy but because he knew on a gut level she needed to let go of that precious control. And he wanted to be the one to make it happen.

As for what was between them... She was right. There was nothing between them, not really.

Yet.

So what did he want?

He took another long swallow of water, desperate for a cold beer. A distraction. He was scaring himself with all this talk. Asking for more than he’d ever intended to want, never mind have.

Maybe he was acting this way because ever since his diagnosis everything in life had felt important, urgent. Precious. And if he felt a connection with a woman well, then, perhaps he should just go for it. Take it as long and far as he could.

Except did he even know how long or far that could be. He didn’t have a lot of options here. A lot of freedom.

He was, Chase reflected, a lousy deal.

Yet Millie only wanted this week, and really that should suit him perfectly. A week, he had.

A week, he would give.

And it would be the most incredible, intense week either of them had ever experienced.

‘You OK there, Scary?’

She glanced at him, still looking dazed. ‘Are you doing this on purpose?’

‘What?’

‘Pushing my buttons. Making me uncomfortable.’

He paused as if he had to think about it, which he didn’t. ‘Yes.’

She shook her head. ‘OK, let me spell it out for you, Chase. I don’t want to be pushed. I don’t want buttons to be pressed. I want a week-long fling, some really great, mind-blowing sex, and that’s it. And, if you don’t think you can deliver, then maybe you should just take me back to shore right now.’ She was trembling.

‘Mind-blowing, huh?’

‘Yes. Definitely.’

‘I think I can deliver.’

‘And nothing more than that,’ she stressed, as if he didn’t get it already.

‘That’s a problem.’

She blew out an impatient breath, pushing her hair behind her ears. She looked younger when she did that, although he guessed she was about his age, maybe a little younger. Mid-thirties, probably. ‘Why is that a problem?’

‘Because I don’t think sex can be mind-blowing if a few buttons aren’t pressed. In a manner of speaking, of course.’

She looked so disbelieving he almost winced. ‘Are you telling me you haven’t had cheap sex before? One-night stands? Flings?’

‘No, I’m not saying that.’ He’d had more than his share of all the above. He wasn’t particularly proud of his past, standing on this side of it, but he’d own up to it.

‘Then why are you insisting on something more now?’

He stretched his legs out in front of him, laced his hands behind his head. ‘I suppose it depends on what you think of as more.’

‘Stop talking in riddles.’

‘OK, here it is, totally straight. We’re both here for a week, right?’

‘Right.’

‘A week out of time, out of reality, and we’ll never see each other again in New York or elsewhere. Yes?’

‘Yes.’

‘See, we are on the same page.’

‘Spit it out,’ she said, her teeth gritted, and he couldn’t keep from grinning. He loved riling her.

‘So you give me one week, and I give you mind-blowing sex. Deal?’

‘I’m not signing until you tell me the fine print,’ she said tautly, and he laughed aloud.

‘You give me one week,’ he repeated. He leaned forward, the urgency and excitement he felt coming out on his voice, his body. He felt it thrum between them with the pulse of an electric current. ‘One week. Seven days. But you give me everything, Millie. You give me all of yourself, no holding back, no hiding. All in. And in return I give you mind-blowing.’

She stared at him silently for a long moment, her eyes wide, pupils dilated—with fear or desire? Probably both. Hell, he felt both. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He couldn’t believe how much he wanted to.

‘That,’ she finally said, ‘is a lousy deal.’

‘You really think so?’ He felt a tiny flicker of disappointment, but still that urgent hope. She was here. She was still talking, still wanting.

And, God knew, he wanted her. A lot.

‘I told you I didn’t want to get into messy emotional stuff. I don’t want to know you, Chase.’

The flicker of disappointment deepened into actual hurt. He pushed it away. ‘Except in the biblical sense, you mean.’

She let out a huff of exasperated breath. ‘You’re totally reneging on what we agreed on.’

‘Nope. You are. My terms, remember?’

Her lips parted, realisation patently dawning. He waited. ‘I thought you meant—well, the physical aspect of—of things. Like, maybe something a little bit kinky.’ A beet-red blush washed over her face like a tide.