The Devil Wears Black(49)

Office sex. Lord, I hated him and his games.

“You were saying?” He sat back, amusement flashing in his eyes. That was a good question. What was I saying? I shook my head.

“You’re taking advantage of the goodness of my heart. I told you we were done after that dinner. You have no business kissing me or agreeing to photo shoots with me.”

“I’ll walk Daisy every day.”

“Until when?” I scoffed.

“Until my dad dies,” he replied flatly.

I tried not to let the weight of his sentence sink into me but felt my shoulders slumping nonetheless. “Chase,” I said softly. “We both want him to live as much as he can. It’s not fair on both of us.”

“The hell with what we want—he has a couple months, at best,” he growled, looking away from me. “Less, probably.”

“This is not sustainable.” My voice was so quiet it sounded more like a breath.

“We don’t need to be sustainable. We’re not fucking plastic bags.”

“I would rather wrap one around my head than play house with you,” I muttered, immediately regretting my words. He was hurting. His entire being bled this fact. The way he talked about his dad, had looked at him from across the table over dinner.

Chase rose from his seat, smirking darkly at me. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

“When you told Katie our breakup story, you had tears in your eyes. You’re not over me.” He leaned forward across his desk, only a breath away from putting his lips on mine. “However, contrary to your predictions, you will be under me.”

I felt my lower lip wobbling and crossed my arms over my chest. I wanted to get out of here. I wasn’t even entirely sure what had made me come to his office in the first place. Chase rounded his desk, every inch of him the cool businessman I loved to hate.

“Madison.” My name was a command.

I jutted my chin out defiantly as he leaned against his desk, ankles crossed, hands shoved inside his pockets. “I would like to restart our fake relationship,” he said.

“Too bad it’s not a Windows PC.”

“If it were, I’d reformat it completely and backdate it to seven months ago,” he surprised me by saying. A waft of his scent made its way into my system. Pine and wood and male and richness that couldn’t be bought. He was the sun. Beautiful and blinding and capable of burning you alive. And I was a mere star in his constellation. Small and insignificant, utterly indistinguishable to the naked eye.

“You screwed up long before I caught you with her.”

But even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t the truth. Not entirely, anyway.

I’d been a watered-down version of myself to appease him, forever a martyr.

And he was an egomaniacal, self-centered playboy who’d regarded me carelessly and never bothered to get to know me. But the thing was . . . the old Maddie had let him treat her this way. The person I was now, however, wasn’t having it. Not at all.

My eyes dipped from his gaze to his mouth, determined not to show him what was behind my pupils. I wondered why he couldn’t show me a fraction of the sympathy I showed him and leave me alone. The very existence of him was tearing me apart.

“Madison,” he croaked.

“Chase.”

His fingers fanned across the side of my neck, his gaze holding mine, penetrating the thin wall of determination I’d put between us. I wanted to die. Die because Chase touching my neck felt more sexually maddening than being fully kissed and groped by Ethan.

“He doesn’t have long, and Julian will uncover our charade in less than a week if we stop seeing each other now.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“That we’ll start seeing each other for the time being.”

“No.” My stomach felt hollow, my voice bouncing inside it.

“Why?”

“Because I hate you.”

“Your body told me a different story when I leaned in to kiss you earlier.” He advanced toward me predatorily, his movements sleek and smooth. His hand clawed into the tender flesh of my neck, and my belly clenched deliciously, approving of his touch. He was right. He was everything dark and sinful. Impossible not to yield to.

“My body is a liar.” The words felt heavy on my tongue.

“Your mouth is, and hell if I don’t want to fuck the truth out of it.”

I looked away, watching him in my periphery leaning nearer and nearer. I took three steps back. He ate the distance between us with one stride. I walked backward. He followed me. Finally, my back hit the black blinds. Chase boxed me with his arms above my head, a menacing sneer on his lips.

No more barriers. Just us and that thick, almost tangible tension lingering in the air like sweet smoke.

“If you pretend to hate me . . .” His voice was silk and velvet, his hot breath fanning the side of my neck. “At least do it like you mean it.”

His knee poked between my thighs as his mouth descended in slow motion onto mine. His body molded into my frame. I stood there, eyes open, watching in gut-swirling horror as his mouth met mine. Yet I pulled him closer, my nails sinking into his shoulder blades. His lips were warm and soft. Softer than I remembered. They felt different. Like his soul was touching mine through this brief brush of our lips. It surprised and scared me, how charged it felt to be in his arms, to drink from the well of his scent and warmth and feel.