Page 27 of Sleeping with the Frenemy

“Chase—”

He put a knee on the bed and kissed me mid-protest, his mouth hot and demanding. My free hand flew to his shoulder, ready to push him away, but somehow I ended up clinging to him instead.

And he noticed, because he growled deep in his throat and tugged the comforter down, baring my breasts.

My eyes slid shut. Heat built between my thighs. He cupped a breast, testing its weight, and I pushed my chest into his hand. Already, a restless ache pulsed in my clit. God, why was he so good at this?

He moved his mouth to my neck and sucked at my skin, murmuring, “Be my wife, Victoria. Make me the happiest man in the world.”

Yes.The word hovered in my mind, ready to slip past my lips. I could marry him and stop worrying about bills and the lodge and my family.

My family.

Nana.

My eyes flew open. I jerked away from Chase, grabbing the comforter as I went.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, his blond brows pinching together.

“I can’t marry you. I don’t own the lodge. It’s in my grandmother’s name.”

“So have her deed it to you. I can have my lawyers draw up the paperwork on Monday.”

I shook my head. “She’d see it as giving her land to a Valenti. I can’t ask that of her.”

“Why not? She’s had no problem asking everything of you.”

Confusion swamped me. “What?”

“Come on, Victoria, you don’t see it? Your whole family takes advantage of you.”

My confusion turned to anger. “My whole family is two people.”

“Right. And they both let you work yourself to death while they go about their lives.” His frown deepened. “And for what? A deteriorating motor lodge in the middle of nowhere? Christ, Victoria, it might as well be a tomb.”

The words hit like a fist in my gut, making all the air leave my lungs.

For a moment, a tense silence reigned. We stared at each other across the bed.

At last, he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine.” I drew back, tugging the comforter higher. “I should go.”

His gaze zeroed in on my fist holding the fabric under my chin, and he seemed to arrive at some kind of internal decision, because he stood and turned away, then started collecting my clothes from the floor.

Even though I’d already seen it, his back was no less shocking the second time. My heart broke all over again. So many things about him made sense now. His reluctance to swim. The bruises and cuts on his hands. I’d watched enough police dramas to know those were defensive wounds.

But the rest of his body told a different tale. Strong and lean, he was as graceful as a dancer as he moved around the room, retrieving my jeans and shirt. The suit pants rode low on his hips, and his cock was a noticeable bulge that hung heavy against his thigh. Even his bare feet were sexy.

My mouth watered just watching him. Which was why it was dangerous for me to stay.

He deposited my clothes on the bed and stuffed his hands in his pockets, his broad chest gleaming in the lamp’s dim light. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

“It’s all right.”

We stared at each other.

The “yes” still hovered in my mind—and I wasn’t certain I could hold it back if he asked me to marry him again.

---