Rachel Dyken: Entice

He was like an addiction, a very very bad one. I’d always been told that if you feed something it grows. With Chase, I’d done nothing of the sort, but it hadn’t mattered, because after one taste… my body had remembered. It had kept Chase in the most secret parts of my subconscious and hidden him until it was time. The clock had struck midnight. I. Was. Screwed.

All too soon his mouth left mine. He released his hold on me and stared into my eyes. “Practice makes perfect.”

“R-right.” I couldn’t find my voice. Who was that weak-minded female speaking? Me? Really? Where the hell was my gun when I needed it?

“Oh, and Mil?” He tugged my hair again, gentler this time, and winked. “Didn’t take you for a moaner.”

“Ass.” I jerked back and crossed my arms.

“Hey!” He lifted his hands into the air. “Anytime you wanna moan while I pull your hair, fine with me. Just don’t forget my name.”

“Huh?” I really should learn to stop responding to the man.

“My name,” he said just above a whisper. “I want you to say it.”

“Because I might forget?” Not wanting to show him that he affected me with his dangerous words, I slumped even lower in my seat. I hated that he was winning again and that I felt like the weak one.

“Nah.” He put the car back in drive. “Because it sounds so damn good coming from those swollen lips.”

For the first time in twenty years, I was absolutely speechless for more than ten minutes. Every time I tried to open my mouth to speak no words would come — maybe I was in deeper than I’d realized. Maybe I wasn’t as prepared for what had to be done. Those were my last thoughts as Chase turned off the SUV. The last words in my head as I touched my lips with my hand and memorized the burn of what it had felt like to have his mouth on mine.

Such a good burn. I craved the burn. I’d always been attracted to danger. And Chase? His very name was the definition of the word.

“Ready, wife?” Chase nudged me with his elbow in the most unromantic way known to humanity.

“Ready,” I croaked. But I wasn’t. I wouldn’t ever be. Because I hadn’t predicted this. In every possible outcome, the answer had been the same.

Marry Chase — fix family.

Never had the odds turned against me.

But I felt the twist. I felt the turn in my gut. Hell, I felt it in my chest as I watched him hop out of the car and grab his bags.

He could possibly own me — and I’d let him. Because as we walked wordlessly into the hotel lobby, as the lights burned my eyes and caused me to squint, I’d never felt so alive.

And it was all because Chase Winter had not only scolded me, but kissed me, put me in my place, and caused me to forget my own address.

I blinked a few times then squeezed my eyes shut.

“Mil? You wanna room upgrade?” came Chase’s voice.

I shook my head no.

He upgraded anyway.

The ding of the elevator came too soon. The sliding of the key card too fast. And suddenly the room was too hot.

And I was alone with my husband.

Never had I imagined I’d be so attracted.

Let that be a reminder to any woman out there — math can fail you, logic will lead you in the opposite direction. Numbers? Not always solid. But your heart? That’s the biggest failure of all, because just when you’ve told yourself it’s safely in your keeping, it gets freaking stolen by a guy with green eyes and dark hair.

The sound of the door clicking shut almost had me bolting for the window. And then every ounce of air was sucked out of the suite. Chase turned. His eyes met mine, demanding, craving, lusting. I clenched my fists, letting my nails bite into my flesh.

My heartbeat pounded hard against my neck, making me dizzy. And it had only been a few hours.

Hell.

Chase

I’d just redefined the meaning of coming on too strong. Hell, that woman made me want to react. Every single word that came out of her mouth caused a gut instinct reaction. I hadn’t planned on kissing her; it had just happened. I wasn’t aware that I no longer controlled my body or my thoughts where she was concerned. But I wasn’t going to apologize. It had been a damn good kiss. She’d tasted warm, like a hot dessert that just came out of the oven. And I was a sucker for chocolate cake.

That mouth of hers was perfection. Clearly my mind had done me a favor by allowing me to forget just how soft her lips were. A man should never forget the way a woman tastes — and somehow I’d done it.

Never again.

I had planned on our kiss to feel frigid, cold, lifeless. Instead my body had responded with such heat that the entire drive to the hotel I’d gripped the steering wheel hard enough to pry it from the dash.

Thank God, she’d been kissed into silence, especially if that was how I reacted when she challenged me.

The only reason I even upgraded the room was to give us more space — being too close to her made me feel like a caged animal just waiting for the zookeeper to unlock the cage. I ran my hands through my hair in frustration and dropped our bags onto the ground.

“I, uh, I’m going to go get some ice.” Small talk of epic proportions.

“Fine.” Mil shrugged and grabbed the TV remote.

My eyes narrowed as she lay down on the bed, her entire demeanor screamed calm; whereas, I was contemplating how many ways I could dump ice in my pants without looking like I’d just had an accident.

“Whatever,” I grumbled under my breath, grabbing the bucket and making my way down the hall. Call me paranoid, but even though we were staying at the Waldorf Astoria, I wasn’t taking any chances. I kept my gun tucked into my pants and muttered curses under my breath the entire length of the hall toward the ice machine. I needed time to cool off, time to think, time to form a game plan.

Did we have to have sex? And what guy actually asked that on his wedding night? But that mouth, her mouth, I groaned as my mind tortured me with the memories of what she’d tasted like, what her mouth had felt like pressed against mine. How was it possible to be so intrigued by someone else when I knew that no one would ever captivate me the way Trace had? My body clearly didn’t have trouble with it. That much I was painfully aware of.

Shit.

I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. I needed a solid minute or several of them before going back into that room. The last thing Mil needed was for me to go back in there so damn turned on I had trouble walking. May as well wave a flag or something. It was beyond obvious, not to mention irritating.

By the time I reached the ice machine, I wanted to shoot so many holes through it that I was already regretting the fact that I’d brought my gun. Pretty sure destroying hotel property would land me in jail.

Groaning, I leaned my forehead against the machine and took a few deep breaths.

Just as I was about to press the button, the hair on the back of my neck stood on edge. It was quiet, too quiet. The elevator dinged, and then I heard some shuffling, footsteps. The normal hotel guest would be talking, or at least purposefully walking. Quietly, I ducked into the corner and looked down the hall. Two men in suits were quietly walking and talking. Nothing out of the ordinary. But that’s the problem. It’s never the creepers I worry about. But normal people? Men in suits? People who looked like they belong — those are the real threats. They’re the moms and dads taking their kids to school in the sick SUV. The clean cut ones were a pain in my ass. I watched, I waited. They stopped in front of my room.

Shit.

The tall one on the right seemed to be in charge. He motioned for the other to step aside as he pulled out his gun and moved to the front of the door. Wow, a silencer. How predictable. The taller one knocked on the door and said in a low baritone, “Security.”