Page 83 of The Save

His nostrils flared. “Yes, please.”

Chapter

Thirty-One

I’d been motivatedto end the game on time. After talking with the guys and gratefully accepting Coach Blakely’s offer to wait until the players left the building, I bolted up the stairs to the main floor of the Dome. Chase was leaning against the wall, waiting.

“Does Blakely know you’re here?” I asked.

His mouth curled. “Possibly.”

That explained Coach’s eagerness to send me off. For a second, I was embarrassed about what he might assume we were doing together, but I pushed the thoughts away. I was getting good at that.

Without another word, Chase straightened and strode toward me, scooping my hand into his. We walked to the parking lot, then split into our vehicles. Instead of searching for his address again, I opted to follow.

I only got stopped at one red light on the way, and he graciously waited for me, only pissing off a few drivers in the process.

We pulled up to the curb. I parked then met him in front of the walkway to his home. Chase threw an arm over my shoulders and we strode together to the door.

“You smell good,” I murmured.

Chase chuckled. He unlocked the door, nudged it open, then pulled me toward the stairs. After a brief pause to lock the deadbolt and flick on a light, we ascended.

The floorboards creaked under our feet, and when we reached the landing, he directed me right, toward the door at the end of the hall.

“Do you have anything in the morning?” Chase asked.

My stomach, which was already doing somersaults, took another flip for good measure. “No. I don’t work until one. You?” My whole body shivered.

Chase clicked on a lamp, and I scanned his room. It felt like I was discovering more pieces of him as I took in the clean lines and uncluttered space. There was a dresser and a chair in the corner, and a queen bed with crisp, white linens. The navy comforter sat slightly rumpled, like he’d sat there on the bed at some point that day.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low.

I nodded. I didn’t trust myself to speak. My pulse was already thudding like a bass drum. He stepped closer, one hand brushing my arm, trailing down until our fingers met again.

“I keep thinking I’m going to wake up,” I whispered.

Chase’s lips lifted at one corner. “You’re not dreaming.”

But I was. I had to be. This version of him—barefoot, tousled, shirtless—he didn’t exist in real life. Not this gentle. Not this undone. He looked like a wish I hadn’t dared to make.

This time, I was positive Chase moved first. I rose on my tiptoes as he pressed a light kiss to my mouth. He cupped my waist and pulled me toward the bed. “Will you lie down?”

I nodded again, but before I could crawl on top of his mattress, he tugged at my shirt. At my pants.

“Oh, did you want these off?” I teased.

His eyes glazed. “Yes, please.”

I moved slowly, enjoying the widening of his pupils as I removed my shirt and pants, then sat on the bed. I pulled myself to the middle and lay back on his pillows. Chase stood there, watching.

After a moment, he stripped off his shirt and dropped his jeans to the floor, kicking both articles of clothing out of the way, then climbed up onto the bed with me. He settled above me, and his mouth started on my stomach, right beneath my ribs.

I sucked in a breath.

“Do you like this?” His voice was low, his breath warming my skin.

“Yes.”

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