Chasin' Eight (Rough Riders #11)(123)

“I can’t believe I had to find out from a trashy rag like Talk of the Town that you’re here.”

“Our plan to have a quiet couple of days was blown the first night.”

“You’ve been off the grid, darling. People are curious when you resurface. Anyway. How are you?”

“Can’t complain. What’s new with you?”

“I’ve volunteered way too much time to my charities, but I simply don’t know how they’d survive without me, so I continue to raise money and Arthur continues to complain about it.” She laughed. “He’s been in California more than you have in the last month.”

“I bet that makes you crazy.”

“Yes. I don’t miss LA at all. Anyway, I assume you’re not jetting off today?”

“Not today.”

“Good. It just so happens I’m throwing a little cocktail party tonight at the apartment and I’d love for you to come.”

Ava nearly snorted. Since Petra lived in a fifteen-million-dollar apartment on Park Avenue, her little cocktail party probably meant a guest list of fifty, a black tie affair with a quartet from the New York Philharmonic providing entertainment.
“As a matter of fact, I won’t allow you to say no, Ava.”

“Be honest, Petra. How elaborate is this party? And what’s the dress code?”

Petra sighed. “Twenty guests. Just appetizers. New York casual. Really, it’s practically a barbecue.”

Ava laughed at the image of stylish, elegant and immaculately coiffed Petra in jeans and a gingham-checked shirt, serving fried chicken.
“Glad I amuse you. Show up any time after seven-thirty. And feel free to bring the gentleman in the hat. Ta.”

The gentleman in the hat might be optional after he got wind of their tabloid appearance.
Almost on cue, the door opened and Chase walked in.
She should be used to his jaw-dropping physique by now. The massive biceps, bulging triceps, thick forearms, bulked up chest, the delts, the quads, the glutes, the eight-pack abs. God she loved his abs. She loved to dip her tongue between the hard ridges of muscle, tracing every work-honed line. Especially after he worked out. Losing herself in the musky, salty taste of his skin.
“What? Do I have pigeon shit on my clothes or something?”

Her eyes snared his. “No. Just admiring the goods. Seeing you half naked…you are a damn beautiful man, Chase.”

“You been hitting the minibar first thing?”

“No. I don’t tell you enough how unbelievably attracted I am to you. Seeing you like that stops me in my tracks.”

“Ava.”

She marched over to him, pulling her three-inch height advantage. “You compliment me all the time. Why can’t I do the same? You think it’s insincere?”

That intense blue gaze never wavered. “No. You ain’t blowing smoke up my chaps just to get into them. I just don’t know what to say. Everything I think of sounds f*cking wrong. And I sure as shit don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate it, because I do. So I’m left with saying nothin’ at all.”

As they stared at each other, uncertainty morphed into heat.
Ava bent down and brushed her lips over his ear, waiting for his shiver, because he always shivered—and he didn’t disappoint. She nipped his rigid jaw, loving how his stubble felt on her lips. “I want to suck you off. Right now.” She lowered to her knees and hooked her fingers in the waistband of his stretchy shorts, then yanked them down. She looked up at him and said, “Shirt. Off.”

One tug and it was gone.