Naomi 

 

Sitting out in the cool crisp morning air and taking a deep breath gave me a sense of relaxation. I watched the lazy traffic and daybreak runners as I sat outside the coffee shop. My mind drifted to the events of the night before.

Grace and I had both left work at a little after four yesterday. We’d gone straight to the UPS store where I paid a fortune to have Braydon’s suits arrive first thing this morning. The thought had crossed my mind to call and tell him his suits were on their way but if he was done with calling or texting me, I was done with it too. After all that was finished, Grace and I went out to dinner. It wasn’t until she’d purchased two bottles of wine from the restaurant and pressured me to come to her house for a few drinks that I gave in because it was Grace and she could be, well… demanding.

I’d thought I’d have a glass or two then head out and call Chase once I arrived home. Yeah, it didn’t happen that way. Two shots of burning whiskey with her son and a ton of laughs, three glasses of wine in private with Grace, and it all came out. I told her everything, from Braydon and me not being intimate since the first night we moved to Denver to phone sex with Chase the night before, and my plans to file for divorce.

To my surprise, she was all for the phone sex I’d had with Chase, telling me I had to let that guilt go because Braydon couldn’t expect me to just sit and wait for him. And regretting it was absolutely ridiculous because, she had said, the glow in my eyes and blush in my cheeks had zero to do with the alcohol. I hadn’t gone into the feelings I was having toward Chase, but I knew she’d probably seen it in the way I spoke about him.

Her only advice had been to keep playing naughty with Chase. Yes, those were her exact words, followed by “once he gives you the information he’s found, then deal.”

She also hadn’t been surprised by my mention of divorce. “I had my suspicions,” she whispered and followed it with, “I’m always here.” God, Grace was one of a kind.  

By ten thirty the yawning and heavy eyes began. The last I knew was Grace placing a blanket over me as I lay on the plush couch, a sofa so comfortable I wished I had it in my house.

When I woke up early to a silent Saturday morning in a working family’s home, I slipped out quietly. I left a note by the coffeemaker expressing my thanks for their hospitality and a little PS for Grace saying, I owe you, girl. A smiley face accompanied it because my life was going to change today.

 

****

 

Chase

 

The cold water pouring down over my body cleared any traces of Jack that might’ve been left in my system. When I finished showering and my morning routine, I threw on a pair of black jeans, a white t-shirt and my boots. 

Making my way from the hallway into the kitchen and living room area, my heavy footsteps crunched across the broken glass that lay on the floor. I ignored the grating sound beneath my boots and made a cup of coffee. In the seconds it took for the dark liquid to drip into the mug, I pulled my cell off the island counter.

A flutter in my chest occurred when the screen was lit up with two missed texts and one call. I thumbed the screen, putting in my password, and when her name wasn’t attached to any waiting messages or call, I calmly placed my cell in my back pocket.

Reaching for the mug of hot coffee, I took a gulp, letting the burn flow down my throat. With my hips to the counter, I stared out the huge wall of glass doors and into the sunny sky.

Twenty-two fucking hours.

She said she’d call when she was off work. But she hadn’t. My eyes moved to the broken Jack Daniels bottle that littered across the expanse of the room. Then I took in the light brown stain of dried liquid on the white wall. My blood began to heat to match the temperature of the coffee.

Twenty-two goddamn fucking hours.

I took another gulp as my vision moved back to the brightly lit sky. I’d waited and paced like a fucking teenager for her to call, words playing in my head as I decided what I wanted to say. Oh, I could have called her but the ball was in her court and she needed to make the next move, which she hadn’t. It’d been around three in the morning when my staggering steps from the balcony took me to the counter where the empty bottle of Jack sat. That’s when I’d tossed my cell onto the counter and the bottle across the room. Then my stumbling steps took me to my room, where I hit the bed and passed out.

Twenty-two motherfucking hours!

I pulled the phone from my pocket, skated my finger over the screen, and hit Call.

“Mr. Black, how may I be of service to you?” Harry greeted.

I told Harry, the concierge manager of the building I lived in, “I need a cleaning crew to take care of a broken bottle and mug ASAP.”

“They’ll be on their way to you in no time, sir,” he assured me.

“Thank you,” I said and ended the call.

Twenty-two goddamn motherfucking hours!

I took the last sip of coffee before I raised the mug, pulled my arm back, and hurled it at the wall. The thud sounded first before a burst of shattered ceramic flew through the silent room. I grabbed the keys from the entry table and walked out of my penthouse.

Glancing to the right I saw two women with a cart coming off the service elevator so I turned to the left and made my way to the private elevator that took me down into the garage.

Once the doors shut behind me, I made a mental note to add an extra thousand to Harry’s Christmas bonus this year.

 

****

 

The water spraying in the elaborate fountain that sat at the entrance of the Redwoods development glistened in the bright sun. I turned in and sped down the road.

My tires squealed as I pulled into the street, did a quick K turn, and faced her house. Jerking the shifter into park, I eyed her house with rage oozing from my pores. It took roughly twenty seconds of staring at her place before a cold shiver flowed through my body and I went on alert.

My eyes darted around, starting with her Range Rover in the driveway, driver door still open. The perfectly planted flowers leading up to the partly open front door were trampled to nothing. A broken wood shutter hung on the inside of the window that I’d identified as her bedroom the first night I was there.

I pulled the center console up then hit the hidden button under the driver seat and another compartment opened. When I had the gun in my hand, I checked to see if the clip was full. I exited the car, put the revolver in the back waistband of my jeans and slowly made my way toward Naomi’s house, observing my surroundings as I went.

To my right five houses down, a guy was washing his Beemer. Opposite side of the street six houses down, an older woman watered her plants. As I landed on the center patch of manicured grass separating incoming and outgoing traffic, I looked to my left. Nothing. I glanced behind me before crossing the street; all clear.

Quietly I walked up the three steps of brown-stained concrete, stopping and listening; when I didn’t hear a sound, I fit myself through the open front door. I focused straight ahead to find a wide flight of paisley-carpeted stairs. To my right, I found a little seating area that looked as if it should be in Queen Elizabeth’s castle, with a gaudy lamp knocked over and a few embellishments missing.

Fuck, this place is hideous.

To my right, was an extravagant glass-topped dining table with floral-patterned chairs. A massive vase was tipped on its side and spilled fresh flowers and water across the table to puddle on the intricately detailed rug underneath it. The large single nail above the matching buffet indicated a missing portrait.  My eyes went to the two pillars delineating the room and into the kitchen.

And there she stood.

Her back to me, at the kitchen counter, still as could be, she stared out the window above the sink. Taking quiet, small steps, I made my way toward her. The vein in my neck began to thump with every step I took. Her brown wavy hair hung down the back of her pink sweater. The sweet ass that I’d dreamt of wearing my handprint was encased in a black skirt. A vibration ran through my body as I got my first whiff of her. The sweet spicy orange scent filled my nose and ran through my system landing in my crotch, where my cock twitched.

Fuck…

She didn’t even have a chance to move when I swiftly put an arm around her waist and hand over her mouth. Naomi grabbed my hand and strained to pull. I didn’t even budge. Her legs fell out from underneath her as she tried to move them, but I held her in place. She started to breathe heavily as a mumbling scream vibrated against my hand.

For Christ’s sake, she was warm, soft, smelled amazing, and felt fucking fantastic in my arms even if she was trying to escape. I pulled my head into the game.

My cheek brushed her soft flower-scented hair. “It’s me, No. Is there anyone in the house?” I whispered into her ear.

Her body froze in my grip and the air coming from her nose on my hand began to steady. She shook her head slowly.

“If I remove my hand, you’re gonna be my good girl, right?” I spoke quietly.

She nodded. I detached my hand as I loosened my grip on her waist.

She twisted. “What in the fuck are….”

Her shouting came to a halt when her eyes focused on my face. The tremor that coursed through her body caused me to tighten my grasp around her waist as her knees buckled.

Those beautiful brown eyes gazed up at me. “Chase,” she whispered.

I lifted my black shades from my eyes, placing them on my head. “Right here, No,” I returned quietly.

“But…You,” she stammered. “You’re the guy from the bar.”

“Yes.”

She began to wiggle in my grasp but I didn’t let her go. “Are you even him? Chase, a PI? I…” she trailed off in confusion.

I took a deep breath, “Yes, No, it’s me and just pure fucking coincidence. It’s why I didn’t want to meet up with you.”

“But…I…” Naomi shook her head and blinked a few times. “What are you doing here?”

I dipped my head closer to hers. “I’m gonna let you go, check your bedroom and then you’re gonna go pack the shit you need in less than ten minutes while I look through the house, got me?”

Her head jerked back. “I am not going anywhere.” Her eyes moved down to take in my thermal-covered chest.

A minor flutter traveled through her body, which I felt through my snug grip around her waist. She squirmed in my hold, trying to retreat.

“You are,” I said firmly and squeezed her. “And if you don’t go grab your shit then you won’t have anything—”

“Chase, I am—” she interrupted, but I cut her off.

“I’m only saying this one more time,” I demanded, pulling her flush against me and dipping my head so my nose was touching hers. “Go grab your fucking shit while I check the house, yeah?”

Those mesmerizing brown eyes gazed into mine. “Okay,” she whispered.

I let her go and watched her ass wiggle under the stretched material as she raced from the room, heels clicking rapidly along the wood floor as I followed behind her.

Why in the fuck is she still in the same clothes as yesterday?

Fuck….

Once I did a quick scan of her bedroom, I moved on and searched the rest of the house. The fury began to build tenfold but not because of the circumstances I found here but because she was still in the same fucking clothes. And we all know if you still have the same clothes on as the day before, what events most likely took place the previous night and that thought did not sit well with me where Naomi is concerned. 

All the evidence I found led to a break-in. But I knew it was more than some degenerates looking to make a few bucks. Everything that was touched was too calculated. They knew exactly where to go and what to grab.

I took the fucking ugly stairs two at a time and went straight to the grumbling that was coming from the bedroom. Once I entered the room, my eyes fixated on the bed that I’d ignored the first time I was in here. A red leather bag sat open and a matching decorated suitcase lay beside it, shut and ready to go. The bright lavender comforter stood out against the massive cherry-stained gloss furniture that took up most of the bedroom. An array of pillows was neatly placed at the headboard.

I envisioned the first time I’d spoken to her as she’d lain in that very bed. My thoughts had imagined more of a contemporary décor than this seventies’ rich grandma look.

A gasp sounded to my left and I twisted to see Naomi, eyes wide, two bottles falling from her overstocked arms as she halted her steps.

“Why are you in here?” she breathed.

“Checking everything out,” I told her as I pried my eyes from the beauty she truly was and began to glance around the room.

I noticed the one nightstand drawer pulled open and the lamp knocked over. As I started toward it, Naomi hurried to the red bag where she opened her arms and the bottles of all shapes and sizes dropped in with a clatter.

“No, wait!” she shouted in a panic and moved to where I stood when I bent to retrieve the little blue box from the drawer. “Please,” she begged, putting her hand out to me as her eyes moved to the box in my hand.

But I didn’t listen to her pleading as I opened it.

As soon as I saw the little purple vibrator my cock twitched and my jeans started to become snug. My eyes slowly moved to hers. Taking in the blush on her flawless cheeks, I deadpanned, “I never knew Tiffany’s sold vibrators.”

She snatched the contents out of my hand with a huff, and said, “They don’t.” Then she turned, went to the dresser and put the box in the top drawer. “Why are you here anyway?” she snapped.

“You sure you don’t want to bring that with you?” I asked with a raised brow and a smile playing on my lips. A million different visions popped into my head of how much fun I could have working her pussy with it.

She swiftly rotated and snarled, “No, Chase, I don’t. And I would appreciate if you’d answer my question.”

“Told you, checking everything out,” I answered as I checked around the room more thoroughly. Burning heat flowed through my veins as I thought about how many times that fucking scumbag had fucked her in this very room.

“No!” she bellowed. I looked over to her with raised brows. The sass was kicking in and it was turning me the fuck on. Naomi gazed at me and I watched a shudder move over her body, which caused her to cross her arms over her chest and rub each arm as if she were trying to erase a chill. 

“Excuse me?” I grated quietly.

Her eyes stared into mine. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell, but….” She paused, looking down to the floor.

“But what?” I whispered, walking over to where she was.

Her head moved up when my booted feet came into her view. “I….” She took a deep breath. “Why are you here and why should I go with you?”

“For your protection,” I said while my eyes roamed down her body.

“I don’t need protection,” she threw back, and put her hands to her hips.

Slowly my gaze moved up her body. She took a step back and I followed her. Her back hit the doorjamb and I stopped an inch from her. “You know who did this to your house?”

“No, but—”

“You call the police?”

Naomi hesitated. “I was going to as soon as I pulled myself together. I thought Braydon was home, but—”

“What makes you think this person isn’t going to come back?” I asked, bending my head toward her.

“I…” She stuttered, “I don’t know—”

I cut her off with a firm low voice. “Exactly, No, you don’t. I’ll have a guy look into it.”

I watched something flash across her face, but it happened so fast I couldn’t read it. She whispered, “And why should I trust you?”

With my eyes piercing hers, the warmth of her coffee-scented breath fanned over my face. When her tongue came out to moisten her bottom lip, my gaze moved to her perfect pink lips. Her arms wrapped around her stomach and she pulled her tongue in quickly. I brought my eyes back up and whispered, “You trusted me the other night.”

Embarrassment moved over her face as her cheeks glowed with a reddish tint. She blinked a few times, squeezed her way out of the sandwiched spot she was in, and blew off my affirmation with a hand in the air. “Whatever.”

As she walked to the top of the stairs, I watched her ass move under the fabric and a whole new image appeared, including the vibrator. Before my mind took me too far, I asked, “Where you going?”

She twisted, her brown eyes coming to mine. “To call my friend who I stayed with last night,” she announced.

Ah, now I knew why she was in the same clothes. She started down the stairs. “For what?” I inquired.

“I’ll stay with her,” she called, sauntering that sweet ass down the flight of stairs.

“The fuck you are,” I returned as I stayed at the top of the stairs with my hands to the railing on either side of me. “You’re coming with me, No,” I rumbled.

When she reached the bottom, she turned and I watched her eyes start at my feet and move up. The soft tanned skin at her throat moved as she swallowed hard. She cleared her throat. “No, I’m not.”

My feet took the stairs two at a time. Once I hit the bottom she’d already backed up against the front door and I met her there. “This isn’t up for debate, No.” I placed my hands on the door above her head, trapping her in place. “Finish getting your shit and then you’re coming with me, got it?” I explained firmly.

Her hazy brown eyes viewed my arms as she agreed, “Yeah.” Her gaze came to mine and I nodded then moved from her and began to take the stairs again, calling out, “I’m closing those bags and bringing them down.

I heard a sassy, “Whatever.”

A smile played on my lips as I zipped her bag.

Oh yeah, she was gonna be a fucking handful.