not nice. And you know what else?"
"What?"
"I'm gonna prove it." And with that, he swooped me up into his arms and cradled me tight against him as I laughed in surprise.
Through my laughter, I asked, "You're not gonna toss me out the door, are you?"
"Not a chance."
And then, as if to prove his point, he turned in the opposite direction, heading toward the center of the main loft. With long, easy strides, he carried me toward a big pile of loose straw. When we reached it, I half expected him to toss me into the center. But he didn't.
Instead, he turned around and fell backward, taking both of us with him as we tumbled together onto the makeshift bed. And just like that, we were kissing again.
Soon, we were lying side-by-side, kissing so hungrily, I barely knew where I was.
I didn't even care that the straw was prickling my arms and ankles, or that my hair was probably covered in bits of dried hay. And while I was at it, I also didn't care that my shoes had fallen off somewhere along the way or that once upon a time, I'd vowed to hate Chase Blastoviak forever.
I didn't hate him now.
Did I love him? I didn't dare speculate, because a guy like Chase would never fall for a girl like me. But then again, he probably wouldn't fall for anyone, which made the lack of any future just a little easier to bear.
And besides, I reminded myself, I was here to live in the moment, not obsess over the future.
I didn't have to be in love to appreciate the feel of his lips and the way he caressed my backside through the thick fabric of my skirt.
By now, one thing was beyond obvious. This was a guy who knew exactly what he was doing, and then some.
But then, in mid-kiss, he pulled back to say, "Hang on."
Already, I was breathless and dizzy with desire. "For what?"
He reached up and caressed my face. "Your skin, it's so soft."
My gaze dipped to his pelvis, and I felt a silly urge to giggle. He wasn't soft, that's for sure.
I felt my tongue dart out between my lips as I considered all of the things I wanted to do to him, and while I was at it, all of the things I wanted him to do to me.
And then, there was the biggie – the thing I wanted both of us to do together.
And soon.
I watched in shameless fascination as Chase pushed himself up and stood above me. When he began unbuttoning his shirt, I felt my breath hitch as I devoured the sight of him.
Oh, boy. By now, I was seriously tempted to pinch myself, because none of this felt real.
Chase didn't even look real. He was way too perfect as he stood there, giving me my own personal peep show while he worked the buttons of his shirt.
When it finally fell open, I felt myself swallow as I drank in the glorious view of his pecs, and then his abs – those oh-so perfect abs, the same ones I'd admired from afar while watching him on TV.
But now, here I was, getting a nice, long look at the real deal.
And loving every moment of it.
By the time he shrugged off his shirt, I was so fascinated, I could hardly speak. With his shirt in-hand, he crouched beside me and shook out the fabric before laying the shirt fully open across the bed of hay near my hip.
With a wicked grin, he said, "For you."
I smiled. "Me?"
"You see anyone else around? Now you'd better scoot over before I get a complex."
It was such a wonderful, ridiculous thing to say. Chase Blastoviak would never get a complex. He was the kind of guy who knew exactly what he was doing, wherever he was.
And boy, did it show.
With a laugh, I scooted over onto his shirt, and gave a blissful sigh. The fabric felt a lot better than the straw, which, come to think of it, had been poking me more than I'd wanted to admit.
I gave him a grateful smile. "Nice shirt."
His gaze dipped to my blouse. "Yours, too." And with that, he settled himself beside me and gave me another tender kiss before reaching toward the top button of my blouse. My breath hitched, and my pulse gave a crazy little jump.
Was this really happening?
With expert hands, he unfastened the top button. Oh, yeah. It was happening, alright, and I had no interest