I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2)(55)

“Yep, it’s true.”

“You know,” he says, his voice low and suddenly inviting, “we could save you from a life spent at the convent. It’d be a shame, really.” His blues travel up and down my body in a way that makes my breath hitch.

He leans in close, until his lips are next to my ear. “If we leave now, Kay, we could go back to my place and, if you’d like, I could end that drought for you.”

Oh, could you ever.

Time freezes, I am suddenly back in the library, four years ago, listening to two girls talk about how good Chase’s sex is—crazy-good, that’s what one of them said. And now, he’s offering his crazy-good sex to me, right here, this evening.

I seriously consider, but unfortunately Chase is just kidding. His soft laugh and bump to my shoulder before he steps away tell me as much. I kind of wish he wasn’t kidding though. No, I definitely wish he wasn’t, because I want this man. In any way I can have him.

I don’t let him know this, God no. I just push crazy-good sex away playfully, and say, “Shut up.”

But my hormones are a-humming. I check out Chase’s ass when he lines up his next putt. For the love of all that’s holy, he wears his jeans so well. I never tire of seeing faded denim on his finely sculpted ass. I admire his wide shoulders, his tapered waist. And I know the T-shirt he’s wearing hides all those sexy tats.

God, I bet this man is better than ever in the sack. Suddenly an image of him pounding into me enters my mind. Dear Lord. I fan myself with my hand. When Chase glances back at me, I pretend like it’s the summer heat—not him—that’s getting to me.

A few holes later, our miniature golf game ends. Chase wins, so I buy the ice cream. But I eat my cone is a rush.

When I’m done I say, “Sorry, but I have to go. I have an errand to run.”

On the way home, in the hopes the next time my gorgeous friend offers to have sex with me he just may not be joking, I stop by the clinic with the extended hours and get the shot for birth control.




A day later I show up early over at the school. Chase is up on a ladder, painting the ceiling in one of the classrooms. Unfortunately, unlike the day in the gym, he’s wearing a shirt. It’s a tee, dark gray and kind of on the snug side. It shows off his strong back, wide shoulders, trim waist where his jeans hang low. His hair is tousled, particularly in the back. The overhead lighting from above has a way of making all the gold and bronze highlights stand out, more so than usual. There’s a depth to Chase’s hair, just like there’s a depth to the man himself. It’s hard to tear my gaze away, but I do, taking in the rest of the area.

There are paint cans haphazardly placed along the covered floor, and a bunch of wet paintbrushes off to the side. A cooler sits perched atop an overturned plastic bucket. I know exactly what’s in there, Chase’s stash of lemon-lime soda. My boy brings out my mischievous and playful, and suddenly an idea comes to me.

Quietly, and with stealth, I flip open the cooler top and grab what appears to be the last can of soda. Perfect. As the lid drops back into place it attracts Chase’s attention. He turns on the ladder and calls out, “Hey.”

But my butt is already out the door.

I scamper and turn down the hall, start down the tunnel of lockers. I have on pants today, not a dress, and thankfully flats too, so I get a good head start. When I hear Chase approaching the turn to the hall, I toss the can of soda into a random locker and slam it shut.

I’m rather amazed Chase isn’t on me yet, but when he rounds the corner I see what caused the delay. Not only did he have to come down the ladder, but clever boy has also taken the time to choose a weapon to use against me—a skinny paintbrush covered in bright white paint, surely one of the wet ones I noticed on the floor. Uh-oh.

Pale blue eyes dance deviously as Chase asks, “Where’d you hide it, naughty girl?” He gives me a sultry look that would make any other woman cave.

But not me, I remain steadfast as I start to back away. “Oh, I don’t know,” I sing-song. “It could be anywhere. I’d suggest starting with the lockers.”

The hall is lined with lockers. Chase looks around and frowns. I laugh. He takes a step forward, lifts and brandishes the paintbrush. “I have ways to make you talk, you know.”

Holy crap, his voice is filled with the promise of sex. Crazy-good sex, I remind myself.

“Is that what you want, Kay-baby? Does my girl want to play?”

Oh, do I ever.

I egg him on. Pointing at the paintbrush, I say, “You wouldn’t dare.”

My boy smiles another wicked smile and chuckles. “Oh, but I would.”

He’s not kidding, that paintbrush has my name written all over it. So I promptly take off.

Of course, I only make it a few feet before Chase catches me. With a strong but gentle arm around my middle, he spins me around and slowly backs me up against the lockers. I am breathless, but not from running. What I like, what turns me on, is that I’ve just been pursued. Pursued and caught, by this gorgeous, sexy guy who I may tease and call my boy, but there’s never been any doubt in my mind that he is most definitely all man. It’s particularly clear now as his body engulfs and surrounds me.

I close my eyes and breathe…him…in. Pressed up against me like this, he’s all soap and paint, clean, and goodness. There’s something special that’s just him. I forget we’re playing and just stand there, breathing in all that is Chase Gartner.