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Chase

No sex.

That’s all I can think about lately and it’s driving me so fucking crazy. I wake up humping the sheets, my dick so hard I’m embarrassed to admit it.

Shamed at my behavior—and the insane urge to wake Remy up with my cock already filling her—I slam into the bathroom and treat my dick to an icy shower that deflated him almost instantly. Till I walk out of the bathroom and find her sprawled on my side of the bed, my pillow clutched to her face as if she’s seeking my scent.

Instant boner.

Damned woman is being so stubborn!

So what if we’re not sharing our feelings and doing pottery scenes from
Ghost
! We’re compatible where it counts, and we share a mutual respect that many couples don’t have.

I’m so damned desperate to touch her right now that I consider getting her drunk just to see if she’ll loosen up a bit. Now don’t go all feminist outrage on me, I’m not going to. Mostly because for me it’s not just the release that I crave but that one moment when she’s so open that we connect on more than a physical plain.

That’s what’s got me on edge—that Remy has completely withdrawn from me to the point of seeming unaffected by my touch. Just weeks ago, she’d attack me if I so much as looked at her with heat.

I bloody miss the wench and it’s killing me to sleep beside her without feeling her in my arms. She doesn’t even roll into me anymore. So, short of pinning her to my side, I’m shit out of luck and up the creek without a bleeding paddle.

I know what it will take to get her back in my arms and writhing beneath me. Sharing. She wants to tell me about her past, and she wants to know who I am.

I can’t risk it though, because I know that if she tells me something that I can’t get over—someone is dying. My temper since the incident with Carson and his goons is not something I want to even contemplate around my wife.

God, I love calling her that. It implies an ownership that makes me hard and achy with the need for her.

She’s mine, and I protect what I…own. Even from myself, and I will never let her see that part of me because she’ll bolt; I know she will. Remy is way too soft for a dark, broken beast like me but—

“Jesus, you’re still sulking? Just talk to your wife and get it over with you idiot.”

I look up from my paperwork and glare at Gabe when he saunters in and plops into the chair across from my desk, his limbs loose and relaxed. Someone in this place is obviously getting laid.
Bastard
.

“Mind your own bloody business, Gabriel.”

His grin is full of smug glee and it takes an effort for me not to vault over the desk and wipe it right off his face. I resist the urge and try to ignore the blighter.

“
Fine
. So, how about I bring you up to speed instead? Knox is fully done. The company and assets are now yours. I left Knox Sr. with the house and the trust fund you convinced him to set up for retirement. All that’s left now is waiting for Carson’s senatorial prospects, and I’ve got someone on the inside to shake things up.”

At the words, I feel a kernel of satisfaction that’s only cut short at the ongoing frustration that we still have no answers as to who set up Remy and Liv’s abduction.

“Good. I want answers as to the other,” I grumble, feeling my words become more clipped and accented. “I wanted to surprise Remy with her old job, but I can’t till it’s safe enough for her to go out.”

It’s my patch, my attempt to sort of smooth over the cracks. Perhaps if I give her something she wants, she’ll cut me some bloody slack here. I know that short of spilling my guts to her, I’m not looking good in the ranks. I hate being apart from a woman I have quickly come to realize is so ingrained in me it feels like I’m missing one of my limbs.

“Dude, take my advice, because I think you really need it, just take the plunge and talk to her. Liv busted my balls good and hard for weeks, only giving me booty and nothing else till I told her all my deep and darks. That spill session, while really awkward and painful, gave me an in and she told me everything about herself. Including some things I would rather not know. It makes me antsy not having the power to beat the shit out of her parents and her ex.”

God, yes, that’s the way I feel now. I want every part of her, but I’m leery because of who am I now. I know, just
know
deep down that I won’t react well and having her see that part is not my fondest wish.

Rather a bastard than a monster I’m thinking, though at this point I can’t in all honesty say she doesn’t already think it. She’s too soft for this new me, but even knowing that, I still won’t give her up.

“I don’t want her picking at me. Some things she doesn’t need to know. She may be flawed by the way she was raised but I can overlook all that. Deep down she’s innocent. Soft. Good. I want her to always stay that way.”

Gabe mutters something that sounds suspiciously like a slur to my character and shakes his head, rising with a huff.

“You aren’t looking at Remy as she is now, Chase old buddy, you’re looking at her through those same rose tinted glasses you wore as a young boy. Take that shit off and give her a chance. I fucking guarantee that when you do, you will see a woman more than pure and strong enough to be your equal.”

He turns and strides out of my door before I can even venture to answer that bollocks. I left contemplate his words well into the rest of the day, my thoughts not on business or the hundred other trivialities that I’ve been using to bring myself to heel and stay away.

Can it be true? Have I been painting my wee lass with that same distorted brush I used so many years ago? For sure I’d adored her, but even then I’d been distrustful of her every move and intention. I spent a lot of the time brushing off her attempts to engage me with the notion that she was using me as a means to an end.

She’d broken things off with Carson at one stage and I’d been over the moon, but still, I hadn’t trusted that she was strong enough to stay the course.

So maybe Remy is right. I am the problem here. I’ve gone and lumped her into a category that is frankly not very complimentary. I’ve stereotyped her, sabotaged her before she even had a decent chance.

“Fuck.”

“Good to see your head’s finally coming out of your ass.”

I jolt and look up to see Brick leaning nonchalantly against the far wall of the office, his gaze trained on the view over my shoulder, looking for all the world as comfortable as all get out.

“Christ! Where the fuck did you come from?” I bark, righting the pile of papers I scattered. “I didn’t hear Betty buzz you in.”

Brick smiles and shrugs lightly. His prowling gait as he stalks forward and falls into a seat with a sigh is grating on my nerves as much as his casual pose and the smile flirting at the edges of his mouth.

He stretches lazily and brings up a foot to rest on the corner of my desk, not seeming to care that the bloody thing cost more than he makes and used to sit in a British PM’s office in the late nineteenth century.

“She didn’t. I slipped in with Gabe,” he drawls, making my skin prickle.

“You’ve been standing there for hours then.”

“Yup.”

“Have you any idea how fucking creepy that is, Brick?” I ask with a grimace, wrenching a drawer open to retrieve two glasses and the bottle I have hidden there.

I pour and slide the glass at him with a flick, almost smiling when he catches it before it can sail over the edge and into his lap.

“Oh, I dunno. I enjoy watching you stew in your own stupidity man, always entertaining to see the mighty fall and all that. So, you’re getting the picture?”

Bloody pompous, sanctimonious prick.

“Shut it you wanker. Fine, I’ll have a talk with her.”

I may have to get goggle-eyed blitzed to do it without tearing our home apart, but hey, what’s a few drinks when my actions could fix things with my girl.

“Strange to see you drinking though, man.” He points out.

“I do sometimes. Not much though.”

Can’t go back to that. Never.

“Okay,” he says, blowing out a breath. “So, you’re gonna do it. Might make things easier if you know your girl isn’t as pure and angelic as you think, though.”

That catches my interest and I lower my glass to stare at him, cocking a brow.

He laughs, a little darkly, and I see that he’s enjoying whatever the hell it is he knows.
Wanker
.

“So, I didn’t have to snatch and torture Carson for the truth—it turns out your Remy told Hen and Dec. No, let me finish, man. She told them because it seems she’s enlisting their sleuthing services to tag some info on your targets.”

I come out of my chair in a rush and start pacing. I know that whatever he’s gearing up to tell me will not be good. Bloody fucking hell. I don’t want Remy involved in any aspect of the ugliness I’m embroiled in.

“Tell me.”

Brick sighs and scrubs a hand over his stubbled chin, his actions making my muscles clench with worry. Brick never allows anyone to see emotions unless he wants them to, and not even really then, so whatever he knows is not good and I know it bodes ill for my continued sanity.

“Won’t tell ya what all she told them because that would be a gross violation of her trust, but believe me, man, the reason behind her current plans is a good one. Your girl’s looking to get revenge on those assholes and I’m buying a front row ticket right now. Hen and Dec both said they pity those bastards after seeing her face and, man, that girl is all kinda pissed if her recent movements are anything to go by.”

God in heaven, she must know they’re responsible for those photos. I can’t imagine what she must be feeling. Those pics are explicit and raw and leave nothing to the imagination.

“The photos are only a part of it,” he says, reading my mind in that eerie way he has about him.

“Brick.”

“Nah, man. You want the whole story, it’s time for you to pay the piper. Ask her. She wants to tell you.”

“Fuck. You better be close by.”

“Aren’t I always, buddy?”

Remy

Something is most definitely up with Chase tonight. I’m not just saying that because he strode into the house earlier than his usual midnight return.

Nope, he walked right in, grabbed me and kissed the living shit out of me before slapping my ass and ordering dinner for after he gets out of the shower.

Weird behavior, since he’s been no better than those cold Wight Walkers all week.

But I can roll with the punches. Hell, I stopped myself from choking on my food when he started telling me a really dirty joke out of the blue. Suffice it to say, I laughed as much about the relief and warmth I got from this thaw than I did about Paddy O’Brien’s dick joke.

Seems the Irish are famous for more than Shamrocks and the Blarney stone.

Now we’re on the sofa, pretending to watch Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze fondle a lump of clay.

I’m just grimacing over the whole dirty hands meet face part when I hear Chase sigh, and then the TV clicks off.

“Hey.”

“I need to talk to you, Rem,” he says, ignoring my protests and turning to face me, one knee bent and resting on the sofa near my own curled up legs.

I nod and turn closer, gulping when he stretches an arm out behind me and starts fiddling with my hair, his eyes following his movements for long minutes before turning and focusing on me.

“I’ve been a right prick these last few weeks. I want to apologize for that. I heard you insulting me after the fight—”

“That’s not—”

“Shh, let me finish,” he murmurs, laying one finger over my lips to quiet me.

That finger rubs little circles into my flesh and dips in briefly to meet my teeth before he pulls away and blows out a harsh breath.

“I was high off the fight, off the release I always get from the challenge and I, in my arrogance, expected you to coo and crawl all over me for my manly display. I was annoyed with your reaction because I wanted to impress you—”

“You did Chase! God, you were phenomenal in that cage. I just…I freaked out a little because it reminded me of something. I took my own baggage and issues out on you. I know now it was wrong.”

Wrong and unfair, but hell, I’ve tried to make it right, haven’t I?

“I know, babe. You tried to tell me and I shut you down because I didn’t want to hear it. I was so certain that what you were going to tell me was bad and I…you need to know that I started in the cage as a way to relieve some of the anger I carry around after I was bullied and beaten half to death by school mates.”

That is such a shock that I gasp and rear back, searching his eyes for—I don’t know what—but needing that connection as bile rises in my throat. Oh hell no, I do not like the thought of a bunch of assholes hurting my Chase.

Maybe I can find them and—

He laughs and strokes my chin, the action soothing me enough that I don’t feel the immediate need to hunt those fools down and put a cap in their asses. Lord, now I’m gonna have to call Doc to steady myself.

“Don’t fret, babe. I made them all pay dearly for it.”

“Good. I hope you beat them fucking bloody.”

My words make him freeze before he throws his head back and starts laughing so hard he doubles over with mirth. It takes him a while to calm down. He's still wiping tears from his eyes as he straightens and shakes his head, looking at me in a soft way that sends shivers down my spine.

“God, and to think I thought you soft and weak.”

“Hey!”

“No, babe. I know now that I was wrong. So, I think it’s time we get everything out on the table. I-I was cornered one day behind the school building by the football team and…well, let’s just say that by the time they got done, I was half dead and praying for it besides. It took the doctors three very intensive surgeries to put my face back together, but it will never be the same.”

I gasp again at the pain he must have suffered and lean in to stroke his cheek, loving this face but feeling sad for the one he lost. It must be terrible to look in the mirror every day and see how much he’s changed, how irreversibly those assholes changed the course of his life.

“You’re still gorgeous.”

“Thank you. But that’s not the point. I was in a lot of pain for a long time and my dad was beyond furious. He tried to get justice for me, but the boys in question are from good families and money and, well, they weren’t brought to justice at all. That’s when dad decided that I had to leave. He packed me up and sent me to my mum in England to finish off my schooling and college. He died in a car accident my last year at university.”

“Oh, Chase.” He blows out a rough breath and starts playing with my hair again as if the action soothes him.

“Yeah. I hated them for a long time. They took my face, my time with my dad, and then worst of all—and the reason I became this man—they took away the love that could have been. At that time…I loved a girl.”

His words make my heart squeeze in my chest because I know this feeling, this regret for what could have been. I loved too and I lost it because I wasn’t good enough.

He though, he could have had his true love if not for the actions of the boys who stole part of him. I feel sad, and truth told, a little jealous of that girl. To be loved by Chase must have been a gift beyond any and it galls me to have to face the fact that he probably still pines for her and that I’m not even close to having that part of him.

“She must have been very special,” I choke out.

“Yes, she truly was. She was so bright and happy just to
be
most of the time, though how that was possible with her family is beyond me,” he murmurs, his eyes going distant as if he’s reliving a past I can never be a part of.

“Did you ever come back to see her? Did you try?”

Shit Rem, don’t cry
.

“Yes. But she was already married and belonged to another.”

“So…”

“I’d built my business up and made sure that I was so rich and powerful that nothing could touch me.”

I smile and shake off my melancholy because it tickles me to think that should those men meet my Chase now, they wouldn’t walk away from the meeting alive.

And how damaged am I to relish the thought of my guy beating them half to death before spitting on their worthless carcasses. Damn, but those phone sessions with Doc are going to have to be intensive if this Remy that has reared her ugly head is staying for the foreseeable future.

“You succeeded, baby,” I murmur, smiling with glee.

His own mouth tips in a smile and I feel it all the way to the soles of my feet. Gosh, what a difference this is to the distance we’ve shared for weeks. The more he speaks, the more I want to know. I find myself not dreading my own story quite as much, not that I know that he’ll understand.

It’s not the same thing, but with his pain, I feel a lot better about my own stupid weakness all those years ago.

“I did.”

“Is that why…”

I trail off because I don’t want him getting angry and distant again. I definitely do not want him pissed at Liv for her snooping. He’d be on the phone with Gabe and chewing the poor guy’s ass for it if I know him.

But, if he’s sharing now and I want to further this trend, I can’t hold anything back, not even to spare myself the repercussions. Honesty is a bitch even as liberating as it can be.