DOTTY (The Naughty Ones Book 3) (45 page)

Remy

I wake to the feel of lips surrounding my nipple and a strong hand settling between my legs, the insistent push of fingers and teeth bringing my body to screaming life and wrenching me out of a nightmare that included me, the charity event and a
Carrie
incident that left my dream-self covered in pig’s blood while the rest of the guests—all sporting pig’s heads—oinked and snorted in glee.

“You’re awake, babe.”

I hear that gravelly voice and feel his lips smile around my nipple. I can’t help smiling myself as I stretch languidly and push my breast deeper into his gently suckling mouth.

“Well, you woke me up.” I point out, bumping my hips up to increase the pressure of his fingers on my swelling clit.

Chase chuckles and keeps up the slow tease, his fingers slowly circling my nub in the same maddening rhythm he’s using to flick his tongue over the very tip of my hardened nipple.

The sensations are gentle yet so intense that I’m hot and wet and begging in a matter of minutes, my sheath feeling achingly empty and hot.

“Chase.”

“Yes, babe?”

I hear the smile in his voice and growl in frustration, lifting my head to glare down at him when he ignores my writhing hips and just keeps circling. Slowly.

I’m wet, wanting and on the verge of begging him to just hurry up and fuck me already when he surprises me by rearing up and hanging over me, his bi-colored eyes so adoring I feel an ache set up in my chest.

I know he doesn’t believe me and that he thinks my declaration of love was just for show; and, more importantly, I know he doesn’t want to hear it, so I’ll show him.

It really helps that last night’s shenanigans have softened him to the point that he’s looking at me now without a shred of calculation and with affection instead.

Affection I can build on.

“Can we talk about some of that stuff now?” I ask, looking away when I see his eyes lose some of the warmth I’d been basking in.

He doesn’t answer and I’m not surprised—hurt a little at his refusal to so much as even give me a chance, after last night—but not shocked a bit.

Stubborn man
.

I do, however, forget every hurt his rejection brings when he flips me over onto my stomach and brings his body over mine, his skin covering every inch of me as he shifts his legs to the outside of mine, angles his hips and drives into me from an angle that hits me so deep I feel a shudder implode in my womb.

The position is way beyond pleasurable. I’m struggling not to focus solely on how good it feels when he hits me so deep I think my cervix just flowers open for him. It’s intimate and sexy and wild even in its gentleness.

Once he’s in all the way and still pushing to go deeper, I feel him still and place his lips at the nape of my neck. His breath is hot on me, feathering over the side of my face and hitting my lips.

His chest is flush with my back, though I note he makes an effort to keep weight off me and he’s surrounding me everywhere, covering me from tip to toe.

“I don’t want to talk anymore, Rem.” He breathes, leaning down to trail his tongue from my ear to my slightly parted lips.

His head turns and he seals his mouth over mine, thrusting his tongue deep. I can’t reciprocate because of the way I’m pinned and the angle makes a full kiss impossible, but I close my eyes and enjoy the onslaught even as I feel something coil inside, demanding he move.

He doesn’t though; he only kisses me in a rhythm that mimics what I want him to do below.

When he finally slides back, I choke out a moan at the maddening way he slowly, ever so slowly, glides back in, making sure to burrow as deeply as possible and pausing before beginning the process again.

He keeps at that pace forever, torturing me with the need for hard, rough pounding and the slightest friction.

“Chase, please,” I beg when the pleasure-pain becomes too much and we’re so sweaty I feel his skin slip over mine.

“No more talking. Say it and I’ll give you what you want.”

He breathes the words against my lips, our mouths still joined in that erotic glide of tongues that he hasn’t stopped since sliding home. I can’t breathe and don’t really care.

All I can do is feel and, God, it feels so good the way he’s slowly building me up that I can’t think of anything but the need to have him do something, anything to relieve me.

“Chase.”

“Say it, Rem.” His breath is a stutter against my mouth. “No more. We build on what we have. Say it.”

I surrender to him and say the words, closing my eyes against the momentary defeat I feel.

“No more,” I gasp.

He roars his triumph and picks up the pace, his hips slamming into me once, twice and then one last time before I rip my mouth away and bury my face in the bed, my scream muffled even as I hide my tears.

Chase shudders and comes not long after, filling me with his release, giving me that one part of himself…but nothing else.

He slips out and rises, planting a kiss on the small of my back with a happy rumble. All I can do is breathe and pray that this is not all that I have to look forward to for the next fifty or so years of my life.

Because being trapped in an unhappy marriage is one thing, I know from experience, but being trapped in a half marriage, in love with a man who won’t give you more than hot sex and the odd night of easy companionship…I have no point of reference for that and it scares me that eventually I’ll let that be enough.

Remy

“You need to be patient, Remy.” Dr. Yamota says kindly, her slightly accented voice holding a wealth of understanding but telling it to me straight, the way she always has.

“I have been. I’ve gone to those stupid events with him and let him dress me like a doll. I never deny him my body or intimacy. I go out of my way to show him with every touch how much I love him.” I argue, picking at the hanging thread in my shirt.

“Chase has no problem with intimacy, Remy, as you have seen thus far. He shares every part of that aspect of himself with you. From what you’ve said, I think he relies on that intimacy to keep him grounded in a way. It’s almost like he needs to establish that connection,” she says softly, not telling me anything I don’t already know.

He’s a madman when it comes to my body, and while I’m not complaining—cause, duh, the guy is a master of seduction and sexual fulfilment—that is all the intimacy he’ll give.

“I tried talking to him about the way I’m feeling isolated here in the house. I wanted to ask if maybe I could go out with Liv, shopping or something, and he shut me down and reminded me that we don’t talk outside of the bedroom.”

“Not at all?” she asks sharply, and I cringe at her tone.

Yeah, I know how totally dysfunctional it is to talk about the freaking weather over dinner and to hear him tell me about a deal that I have absolutely no interest in, but that’s not my choice apparently.

Chase literally won’t let me delve any deeper than the surface and I’m so frustrated I feel panicky most of the time. Really, I started having these weird episodes a few days ago, and the more I think about them the worse they get.

Most of the time it feels like I can’t breathe and my heart races so furiously I actually think I will pass out. I had a really bad one this morning.

“Nope. And the attacks are getting worse,” I admit, resuming the picking until the whole front hem of my shirt is one long train wreck of frayed hem.

“This is not good, Remy. As we discussed before, you’ve come a long way in overcoming the obstacles you put up for yourself. You worked hard to get beyond that horrifying episode from your past and you’ve made great strides, but it will never truly go away. This stress, the emotional fear you’re now feeling, will only make your memories worse. You need to find a way to talk to Chase about that event and let him know how this situation is affecting you.”

“I’ve tried! It’s not easy for me to work up the courage to tell him that I tried to off myself because I was so screwed up. It’s definitely not easy to have to relive it just so I can work myself up to the telling. Every time I do, I feel….it makes the memories come back from that place of healing I got to. You know, when I had to take the pain killers…”

I hear Dr. Yamota sigh and settle in feel myself falling deeper into that pit of despair I’ve been running from for weeks.

“I kept telling myself that this stress came from being drugged in the abduction but-but I know that it’s from the other and I-I can’t handle the thought of my shit getting so out of control that I’m actually lying to myself. Tell me what to do, Doc. I need to know what to do before I push myself right back to that place.”

I’m begging even as I feel a tear slip down my cheek and I can’t even work up the energy to swipe it away. My focus is trained on that thread, a thread that I keep unraveling with every minute that passes, a thread that has taken on a different meaning right now and is threatening to send me over the edge.

“Remy. You are not that girl anymore and you know it. It’s just easier to keep looking back at her and feeling that same self-loathing because hating yourself is a lot easier than loving yourself, especially when someone you love is making you feel like you’re not worth loving. Talk to Chase, or I’m afraid you’re going to have to re-evaluate your situation and make a drastic change.”

And right there is what I’ve been waiting for and dreading. I know that if I don’t change shit right now, I’m in deep trouble. But it’s hard because I feel like I’m spiraling out of control just
thinking
of leaving Chase.

“You’re right, Doc. I’ll do it. Before…”

“Good. Now remember what I told you.”

“I am not that girl. I am strong and worth loving. I am strong enough to love someone else. I am strong enough to give my trust. I never have to fear because I love me enough to be whole without someone else validating my worth.” I repeat, feeling calmed by the familiar mantra.

“Good. Now stop ruining your shirt, you always did that during our sessions and it’s not constructive. Go talk or make a break. Either way, you have to choose between one hard task and another.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

I end the call with a grimace and steel myself, making up my mind. I love Chase, but I love me more, and no way will I go back to what I was, not even for him.

“Chin up, Rem. Rub some dirt in the bitch and keep going.”

Chase

I replace the receiver with a soft click, instead of slamming the thing into the cradle in a fit of rage that I haven’t felt since I got Remy back.

“That sounded like more than Remy having a breakdown about some nude photos being put on the internet,” Brick says darkly. I meet his gaze, agreeing though I can’t manage to get words past my aching throat.

My whole vendetta against Carson, Knox and their little crew of jocks stems not only from the beating they gave me, but also from an incident that threatened to send me into a maddened rage.

Photos—nude photos—of Remy had ended up all over the net, showing my girl half passed out and naked for the world to see. Her beautiful body put on display.

I’d assumed that they had taken the photos after a night of partying and put them up as a means to embarrass her—maybe to get her to lean more heavily on Carson when the boy showed his support and comforted her.

I thought it was his way of weaseling himself back into her life.

Now I see I was wrong, and God help me, it kills me to think that those fuckers did something to her that drove her to attempt to take her own life.

“I want to know what the fuck they did to her, Brick.”

He snarls, his mouth a thin slash of fury. I acknowledge this by baring my own teeth as her words wash over me again. How desperately tortured was my lass to have to repeat a mantra declaring her own worth over and over till she believed it?

“She wants to tell you, Chase. Just let her tell you for fuck’s sake!” he yells, making my heart thump at just the very thought.

“You’ve seen me when I get…I can’t expose her to that. If she tells me something really…terrible I can’t promise to keep myself in check, Brick.”

“You’ll have to. My only other option is grabbing Carson and torturing the truth out of him. I’ll do it anyway, man, but she sounds like she needs to tell you. Honestly, it’s about fucking time you told her what those punks did to you.”

And that is my worst fear.

“If I tell her she’ll know who I am, Brick. She can never know.”

“Why Goddamit! Chase, you need to stop that hiding shit and be who you are. So what if they beat you so badly your face was pulp? So what if you had to have your face reconstructed? So what if they got the drop on you? You’re not weak anymore—hell you weren’t weak then. Those assholes attacked you, brutally, and they got away with it while you closed yourself off and made yourself into someone you’re not,” he yells, making my ire rise so fiercely I have to battle it back lest I fly over my desk and do something I know I will regret.

“She didn’t love me before! She loves me now, even though I don’t make it easy, she loves me. I won’t give that up. I can’t.”

I’ve come a long way from that boy who was so desperately in love that he was willing to risk it all just to be with her. I risked not only my pride, but my very life defending her against those animals. In the end, she still chose him.

Now, I’m no longer that boy and for some reason she loves the man I’ve
made
myself become. I hate that man at times. He's harder than is needed, and I know that I use him to protect myself, but he’s all I have.

And Remy loves him.

“She loves you, yeah, but what happens when she finds out she loves the wrong man, Chase?” Brick asks tiredly.

“I’m done talking about this, Brick, so save your bloody breath.”

“Okay, then let me ask you this: Are you willing to keep hiding her from your family? Can you separate both aspects of your life this way and still be happy? Your mom is already chomping at the bit about you not going home. What are you going to do, lie to Remy and go home for a week or two and then come back and live this lie that you’ve created?”

At the mention of Mum and Tiff, I feel a pain in my chest that I’ve denied for months. I’m playing a very precarious game juggling both worlds at the same time and I know it, but I’ve planned and plotted and finally got what I wanted and it feels like it’s too late, too risky, to go back and try to fix it.

They’ll all hate me if they know exactly to what lengths I’ve gone to do this. While I’ve closed myself off to Remy, I can’t bear the thought of her finding out and hating me.

“We go on as before, Brick. Gabe knows the drill and so do you. Get me the information I want. I don’t fucking care what you have to do to Carson to get it. Then I want a game plan to take care of those bastards. Taking their money isn’t enough.”

“Just tell her who you really are. Please,” Brick says, trying one final time to talk some sense into me.

“I’m not discussing this with you, Brick.”

“Good. Discuss it with me instead.”

My heart just about seizes when I look up and see Remy standing in the doorway to my office. From the expression on her face, she must have heard quite a good bit of what we’ve been discussing.

“Carson is my business, Remy. Go home.” I shout, hoping that’s all she heard.

I can come back from that, maybe, if I push her hard enough.

“I don’t give a fuck what you do to Brian and you know it. I want to know who you are, or I swear to God, I’m gone.”