Kristen Ashley - Breathe

I slowly opened my eyes and at what I saw in his, another rush of wet surged between my legs and my fist in his shirt tightened.

Undone by the kiss, forlorn that it ended, mindlessly and idiotically I asked the first question that popped into my head.

“Do you like my dress?”

Chace’s head jerked even as he blinked. When his features righted he stared down at me half a second before his hand went out of my hair, his other one slid up my back and both of his arms closed around me super tight. He bent his head, shoved his face in my neck and burst out laughing.

I decided to take that as a yes.

Eleven seventeen that night

“I gotta go, baby,” Chace whispered against my lips.

We were making out, standing just inside my door. We’d arrived back about ten minutes ago. I still had my coat on, Chace his jacket. When we stepped in, he’d closed the door but immediately pulled me into his arms.

Dinner was fabulous (not a surprise). Conversation was easy. Smiles were frequent. Laughter the same.

In the car there and back, I found out Chace listened to country (also not a surprise) and it was good country.

Now the night was over.

And I really, really didn’t want it to be.

Still, I whispered back, “Okay.”

Chace didn’t move, not even his lips that were still a breath from mine.

“Good mornin’ call tomorrow.”

Goodie!

“Okay.”

“My turn for our kid but I didn’t have time to do anything.”

“That’s okay. On my lunch hour I bought him some more books, some comics, a flashlight, some batteries, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a few packs of gum, more water and some more candy bars. I also wrote the note and added a notepad and some pens so he could write back.”

I felt Chace’s smile against my lips at the same time I saw it in his eyes.

“I’ll take the weekend,” he offered.

“All right,” I accepted.

“We’ll win him, Faye.”

“Yeah,” I whispered.

“Want that mouth again before I go, baby. Soft this time,” he whispered back.

“Okay,” I breathed, got up on my toes and touched my lips gently to his hoping I was doing it right.

Then I moved back.

The gentle look in his eyes told me I did it right and I felt like the queen of the world.

He lifted his lips to kiss my nose, his arms gave me a squeeze then he let me go.

He turned to the door, had it open and was walking out when I called, “It was a really good night, honey, thank you.”

He turned back to me, his beautiful blue eyes hit mine and his face was solemn.

“No it wasn’t, Faye,” he replied and my heart squeezed. Then he finished quietly, “It was a fuckin’ great one.”

At that, my heart flipped.

Chace closed the door.

I stared at it.

Then I sucked in breath.

After that, I twirled, skip-danced to my bed, flopped back on it and smiled at the ceiling.

Huge.

“’Lo honey.”

Like every morning since the first, Chace’s dick, already hard, jerked at hearing Faye’s cute, drowsy, husky voice answering the phone.

“Mornin’ baby,” he replied.

“Catch any bad guys last night?”

It was Saturday morning, a week and two days after their date at The Rooster. Their dinner at the Italian place in town the night before had been cut short when he got a callout after someone got home and found their place had been burgled.

He and Faye had had a week and a half of early morning phone calls where she was cute, sleepy, innocently sexy and oftentimes funny. A week and a half of coffee and stakeouts, watching the kid grab bags of food, water, books and other items Faye or Chace deemed he needed. They’d had a week and a half where they’d had dinner together every night, going out or eating in at Faye’s place where she cooked.

Chace was not surprised but that didn’t mean he wasn’t pleased to discover that, like the way she dressed, groomed, kept and decorated her house, she had a subtle flair with cooking.

It was stick to your ribs, no frills home cooking.

It was also exceptional.

That was, they had dinner every night except four times. One, when she went to have a pre-scheduled dinner with her Mom and Dad. Three, when she went to the gym and worked out.

One of those, he’d had to work late as well so he’d met her for a drink at Bubba’s, a place she’d never been but was greeted like a regular by Krystal and fucking Twyla, the butch waitress who put the fear of God in most men but acted like Faye was her BFF. Chace was surprised at this but started chuckling when he saw that Faye was even more startled by Twyla’s behavior. Then, just like Faye, she warmed to it and by the end of the time they were there, she and Twyla were gabbing like long lost sisters. He’d walked her home after, made out with her just inside the door and left her about eight hours before he wanted to.

Two of those nights, he left her to it. He did this to cool things down, not for her, for him.

Too much of her would push him to push her to go too fast.

She was like a drug and as the days, and especially the nights, wore on and she became more comfortable with him, being in his arms, having his tongue in her mouth, his hands on her and hers on him, she was making it very clear she was willing to explore. She was gaining experience, trying things out, becoming more confident and getting restless. She was also making that last obvious. She wanted more and how she communicated that was phenomenal. So phenomenal, he had to cool it off so he wouldn’t lose all control.

Before and during Misty, he had an active sex life with a variety of partners. He was not a player. He was straight up with the women in his life and many of the women in his life were just that, women in his life. Prior to Misty, he dated, he had relationships, he worked at them if he thought they held promise but none of them felt right.

Mostly, this had to do with the fact that the first time Faye caught his attention she did it in a big way he couldn’t ignore. He hadn’t known, until seeing Faye, the kind of woman he was looking for but one look at that auburn hair, those crystal blue eyes, the curves she didn’t hide but also didn’t display, her skittish behavior, shy smile and the dreamy look on her face made a lasting impression he couldn’t shake.

But he wasn’t done enjoying variety and, at the time, she was very young, clearly inexperienced and would require time and care that he had every intention would lead to commitment so he held off on approaching Faye.

Too long it would turn out.

But hopefully not too late.

After Misty, the possible fruition of his relationships for obvious reasons was curtailed and although he had them, the women who took him to their bed knew there’d be an end. He enjoyed it, they enjoyed it but they both kept distant because both knew there was no future.

Before and during Misty, all of this had been regular.

Ironically, since Misty, he’d only had two women. One he’d dated and fucked for a month and then ended it. He did this because she made it abundantly clear she was hoping for more and Chace was not in the headspace to give it to her. The underlying desperation he felt from her reminded him of his dead wife. It wasn’t calculating like Misty, it was just desperate and it didn’t settle so it eventually put him off. The other was a leftover from his time with Misty who opened her door and bed to him any time he made the call. It was sporadic. It was random. It wasn’t frequent. But it was regular.

The last time he made that call was three weeks before he saw Faye in Harker’s Wood.

That meant he’d not had a woman in six weeks.

This was a record.

This was also making the carefully controlled necking he’d been using to initiate Faye torture. Exquisite torture but torture nonetheless.

Their morning phone calls, something he fucking loved, was a form of exquisite torture too.

Luckily, when they were done, he was in bed, hard and could do something about it.

Which he always did.

Today would be the same.

Tonight, though, was the night.

Tonight after Faye finished work she was coming to his place for the first time and Chace was making her dinner.

She wasn’t leaving until Monday.

She didn’t know that and he was not about to freak her out and tell her to bring a toothbrush and an extra pair of panties.

Tomorrow morning, he’d leave her in his bed and go get them for her.

“Yes,” he answered her question.

He got silence then, “Pardon?”

“Got ‘im.”

More silence then, “Already?”

“Lenny Lemcock tries to stay on the wagon,” he started in answer. “He also frequently fails. When he fails, he needs to get so drunk he doesn’t remember anything for a month. This requires money. Money, since he doesn’t have a job and lives on Disability, he has to steal. Took one look at the house, knew it was Lenny seein’ as he leaves a mess as his signature. He also leaves prints. Didn’t even have to lift a print though to know it was him. He hangs in seven different establishments. I found him at the fourth, three sheets to the wind. He’s in the tank and unfortunately for Lenny, since this is about strike seven and although the guy is funny, can charm a snake and has proven that repeatedly by charming a variety of judges, the last time he appeared, he got the warning. No more second chances. He’s fucked. He’ll dry out doin’ time and my callouts for burglaries will drop drastically.”