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“That’s how you wanna play, huh?” Chase isn’t laughing. It’s something else that makes his ribs heave against mine. Something that gravels his voice and keeps his hands gripping at my thighs, trapping me to him.

  The same thing that has me so wet I can feel it, aching low in my core.

  Not that I’m paying attention to that.

  “If we play, you’re gonna lose.” I struggle as hard as I can, pushing my palms against the small of his back and attempting to raise my face level with the ground.

  “Cocky,” Chase observes, tightening his grip on my thighs to keep me trapped. “And sadly mistaken.”

  I would argue, but Chase’s hands are suddenly shifting. There’s barely time for a gasp before I’m flying, tossed through the air from the strength of Chase’s arms. A breeze—the black star-spangled sky—the breath torn from my lungs—and then thwump, the impact of my back into a snowdrift.

  Chase is careful when he drops down on top of me. His gloved hands hit the drift first, punching into the snow as he saves me from the full weight of all that muscle.

  It hardly seems to matter, when the end result is his body pinning mine to the snow. The bucking of my spine means nothing at all. Chase could lift me, he could throw me—and now he holds me, relentless.

  His breath sears my skin, burning hot in the alpine night.

  The words. I need to find the words, and with them the strength to begin gathering more handfuls of snow. “You’re going down, Chase Austin.”

  I don’t get very far. Chase grabs my wrists in his huge hands and shoves them above my head, pinning me to the snow beneath him and his words.

  “I want to go down on you.”

  Silence. The falling snow. Over both of them my moan shivers, a filthy secret bare in the night.

  Chase’s eyes are dark, unreadable, and their pin fixes me as surely as the weight of his body. The moment feels like it might last forever. Just him, looking at me.

  And then he slinks his hips over mine, and through all that fabric I can feel the demand of his hardness. My breath catches between us, and Chase answers the sound with a rough hum of pleasure.

  “You like that?”

  I can’t find words. Not while Chase fixes his eyes to mine like a promise and grinds over me. His thighs part mine insistently so that he can rest between my legs and unpick me with slow, deliberate thrusts.

  I should push him away. I should go. Instead there’s only Chase’s eyes, and the heat of his breath on my face, and the way he’s fucking me through all of my clothes. Each pump of his hips sends sparks through me, a building tension low in my core.

  “Chase—” I arch my spine and press my wrists against the cuff of his hands, raising my jaw with a hunger I can’t deny anymore. Nothing matters except the catch of his mouth.

  But Chase is doing the catching.

  He dips his face low, but it isn’t to kiss me. He’s dropping his face to my ear, nuzzling aside the wool of my hat so that he can graze the lobe with his teeth. A promise, picked out with a thrill of pain-pleasure that makes me gasp.

  All that strength contained. Just.

  “I’ve wanted to have you like this for so long.” His breath licks over my neck before it’s followed by the slick wet filth of his tongue. “I know you want it too.”

  It’s not just that which makes me whimper.

  “I imagine it all the time.” Chase bites the words gently at my jaw, his tongue soothing the marks left by his teeth. “Your thighs shaking when I eat your pussy. That pretty mouth of yours begging for me. The sounds you make when you come on my cock.” I can feel his grin against my throat. “Every time I see you I want to throw you right down on the snow. Which I guess …”

  The tickle of his chuckle steals my own breath. My eyes are powerless to stay open against the sinful slink of his hardness at my hip. Riding me, slow, with the same expert control he uses to tame the mountains. All that power, leashed.

  I don’t want it to be.

  Chase’s voice has dropped to a conversational rumble, his press at my wrists increasing as he licks his way over my throat and around to my other ear. “I’m going to fuck you better than you’ve ever had.”

  Yes, my whimper says. Yes. Because I’ve imagined it too. Even though I shouldn’t. Even though it would ruin everything.

  Chase doesn’t wait for me to find the words. One of his hands takes over the grip of both of my wrists so that he can lower the other. He tugs the glove from it with his teeth before dropping it to the snow. The slip of his fingertips under my jacket takes my breath away.

  I want it. I want it so much.

  “Stop.”

  Chase’s hand freezes, his fingertips curled under the hem of my panties. His eyes find mine again, his brow rising so slightly I can hardly see it in the darkness.

  “I can’t do this.”

  Though Chase doesn’t get off me, I feel the muscles in his body shift. From his pressing lean he settles back, a creaking, reluctant movement that forces the air from his lungs.

  “What.” The word has no emotion at all.

  My breath is still so heavy. I try hard to keep it under control. To put some steel in my voice, so I sound more sure than I feel.

  “I mean it, Chase. No.”

  For a long moment Chase just looks at me. Finally a huff of laughter breaks dark from his lungs. “Are you serious?”

  My smile feels brittle on my lips. “Not now. Not like this.”

  Chase takes a deliberate breath, tension banded tight through his shoulders. “I wasn’t actually intending to fuck you in a snowdrift. I thought we might go back to my bed. Or at least my bedroom wall.” But he’s moving, forcing through the press of his arms to roll off me.

  My laugh is weak. “I meant a bit more than just the snow thing.”

  Chase presses both hands over his face, a groan of frustration muffled by his palms. When he scrubs his fingers down over his cheeks his look to me is disbelief tinged with the darkest amusement. “You’re a nightmare, you know that?”

  “So I’m told.” But he doesn’t smile back with my weak joke, so I add: “Listen, I do … Chase …”

  Chase’s eyes follow the dying words on my lips. Silence spreads before his gaze rises again to mine. The tilt of his stubbled jaw is the beginning of a kiss, but he doesn’t lean in. In the darkness the blue of his irises is shadowed. “What if it was serious?”

  I crack a tiny smile. Words are cheap. I’m not getting tricked by anyone’s empty promises. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  Chase’s jaw tenses, though I don’t get long to see it as he shoves to his feet. One of his hands reaches down to pull me up after him, though he doesn’t prolong the hold. “Then it’s work.”

  Of course it’s work. It’s Dinkler’s film. It’s the edit I need to finish tonight. It’s the showing tomorrow, which is my last chance to change Chase’s mind.

  Because of course I want him to want me. I want it so much I’m still burning with it. But I want him to want more than just my body.

  “This matters to me,” is all I can say, searching for understanding in his eyes.

  “So if we weren’t working together, you’d fuck me?”

  “I guess you’ll find out tomorrow, if you don’t call Dinkler.” I try to make it sound light. But Chase’s stare to me is so intense that the joke falls flat.

  He’s going to shout again. He’s going to shout, and then he’s going to leave. I can already feel the tension tightening in my spine. Preparing myself for him to go.

  The truth sounds less sure in my mouth, wilting under his stare. “I don’t know.”

  “Liar.” Chase chuckles, and all that fear disappears. “You’d be all over me. I heard how much you enjoyed that.”

  It’s such a relief that my smile is almost totally genuine. I bat a hand against his shoulder. “So you’d fuck up my career just to get with me?”

  Do I imagine it, that Chase’s fragile new smile tightens?

  “You think I’d do tha
t to you?”

  Something in his voice makes my breath stall in my chest, but he doesn’t wait for an answer.

  “Let’s go. I’m freezing my balls off.”

  16

  “You all ready to go?”

  I give JJ a thankful beam, trying to keep the edge of nerves from it. “Yeah. I think we’re good.”

  “We’re great,” Hanne corrects with a grin. “Did you see the photoshopping Brooke did of your wrinkles? She should get an award.”

  “Kiss my ass, Hanne,” JJ retorts with a smile.

  I laugh along with them. They might still be in suspense, but I know the edit is amazing. It has to be. It’s everything to me. My calling card. And it’s really, really good.

  Still it’s hard to keep the nerves down as I look at the huge crowd of people packing out the club. I want to pinch myself to check that this is real. All these people, here to see my work.

  Except for the snowbunnies in their tight jeans and boob-showing tops. They’re here for the chance to get their hands on one of the guys. But here, now, I don’t let that bother me.

  I keep a wary eye out for a headcount of the crew. Hunter’s down from the podium so he can chat with some of the snowbunnies, his hand wandering down to cup a girl’s admittedly great ass as they lean together for a photo. Hanne has drifted off to chat with one of the staff, miming taking a drink from what I can’t help but notice is an absolutely massive imaginary glass.

  There’s no sign of Chase.

  It’s okay. He’ll come. It’s not like he’ll miss his own edit. What am I worrying about? Why am I trying to check my reflection in an empty beer glass, making sure that my sweater dress sits properly?

  “Brooke.”

  How the hell does he sneak up on me like that?

  For a moment I can’t greet him back. Chase is always gorgeous, but tonight he’s something else. His hair is so perfectly scruffy I have an insane urge to touch it. His jeans hang low on his hips, revealing beneath the line of his T-shirt that amazing muscled V pointing down to …

  Work. I have to think of work. This is my big shot to show Chase how good I am … and get an invite to Dinkler’s filming.

  I take the glass Chase is holding out for me, my fingers brushing over his. “Thanks.” Hopefully my voice sounds smoother than I feel. “You left it to the last minute.”

  Chase’s laugh is almost unvoiced, a low chuckle that makes the hinted muscles over his belly and chest tense. “You could say that, yeah. Cheers.”

  We click our drinks together before taking a sip.

  “It’s a good crowd.” Chase lets his eyes wander out over the people before he pulls his gaze back to me. “You deserve it.”

  A blush prickles the edges of my cheeks like an idiot. “Thanks.”

  He’s going to say something else. He has to, or we’re just going to stare at each other forever.

  “Finally!” Hanne’s arms collar us so abruptly that our heads almost knock together. “Time to get this show on the road. Are you introducing us, Chase?”

  “JJ,” Chase corrects, extricating himself from Hanne’s grip. His smile almost hides the bitten-tight line of his jaw.

  It feels unreal to take my place on the podium with them. One of the staff cuts the music, and for a moment reality seems to be a snapshot. Us, here, now, and all these people spread out before us. Hundreds of them, here to watch my work.

  And the bunnies. But now they really don’t matter. Chase’s hand is sure as it finds the small of my back, pressing secret to my spine where no one else can see.

  “This is it, Brooke,” he murmurs by my ear. “Are you ready?”

  “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you relax,” Hanne shouts into my ear. She’s sweaty and glowing, both from the exhilaration of the edit’s good reception and from the dancing we’ve been doing since.

  I grin at her around the straw of my drink. I feel so good. Nothing bad exists in the world. There’s just this perfect night, surrounded by the people I suddenly know that I love.

  My crew.

  I open my mouth to begin a reply, but a glimpse of Chase through the crowd stops me. We lost track of each other earlier. Total strangers were coming up to congratulate me, and Chase squeezed my waist once before he was sucked up into a pack of fans himself. He must be getting hand cramp from all the autographs he’s had to give.

  My stomach lurches as I see him, head and shoulders above the girls who crowd around him. They lean in close and touch his arms, feeling the bulge of his muscles. They laugh too loud at whatever he’s saying.

  It doesn’t matter. It’s not like we’re together. Chase was right—he has always been straight with me about that. He’s not Trent, making all those promises to Mom. I’m not stupid enough to let that history repeat itself.

  “We should get more drinks,” I shout to Hanne.

  “I love you,” Hanne grins back. “Let’s go.” She gives me a playful spank on the ass before pushing me forward, toward where Chase is standing in the middle of all those girls. It’s the one place I don’t want to go, but Hanne’s insistent shove gives me no choice.

  I just won’t look. It’ll be fine if I just don’t look.

  Not that I have to look to hear what he says.

  “Nah, thanks. I’m here with someone.”

  Hanne shoves my shoulder, jostling me against the suddenly frozen fix of my feet. “What are you, stuck to the floor? I want a shot.”

  My mouth won’t work. Swallowing only makes my tongue feel more dry.

  With someone.

  Lucky that Hanne’s insistent, or I wouldn’t move at all. She manages to get me to the bar before slithering in beside me, tucked close at my side. She doesn’t seem to have noticed anything.

  “What’ll it be? I can’t do tequila. Not after last year.”

  I’m slow to answer the question, still thinking about what Chase said. It gives time for Hanne to be distracted by the man beside her, who nudges her shoulder and opens with a flirtatious line that makes her laugh. It gives the man to my side time to lean forward, turning his grin toward me.

  “Let me buy you a drink.”

  I look stupidly to either side, as if there might be someone else he’s talking to.

  There isn’t. That wicked grin is definitely for me. He’s not bad looking. But he’s not right, either. He’s blond, and dark-eyed, and smaller than the body I can’t stop thinking about.

  “That video was really impressive,” he pushes.

  I wish I weren’t pressed so close to him, but the crowd of people about us is too tight to get anywhere else. At least it will only take a few moments to get a drink.

  “Thanks. I mean—about the edit.”

  “And the drink?” He’s already waving a card at the bartender, turning his smirk toward me.

  I can feel my polite smile tightening to a thin line. “I’m fine getting my own, thanks.”

  The man turns to his side so he can face me, one elbow propped cockily over the bar, giving me a once-over that makes my skin prickle unpleasantly. “Come on. You deserve to celebrate.”

  All of the manners have gone from my smile. I try to reach a hand back to discretely tap at Hanne, but I can’t find her behind me.

  “I mean it. Thanks, but no thanks.”

  The man’s drunk, but he’s quick. His hand is too tight where it catches at my wrist, the stroke of his thumb making my skin crawl.

  “Baby, you’re way too cute for that bitchy face.”

  Baby? Who the fuck does he think he is?

  I don’t get to ask him. The press of a body against mine takes my breath away. Two giant hands brace themselves on the bar at either side of my elbows. Above the left a tattoo sleeve climbs, black ink wrapped over dense muscle.

  Chase wraps around me, threat crunching in the low of his voice.

  “He giving you trouble, Brooke?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing I can’t handle.” It’s true. If only a pushy flirt were the worst thing I’ve eve
r encountered in a bar. I don’t need a guy to take care of me.

  The other man tilts his jaw, clearly a few too many drinks in to make a proper risk assessment. “You heard her, man. Leave it. We’re just having a chat.”

  I laugh. “I’m fine without a chat. Or the drink.”

  Thank god, Chase seems like he’s going to let it go. I can feel the tension bristling over him where he’s pressed to my back, but when I try to straighten he takes the hint and gives me space. My drink can wait.

  I think I’ve escaped until the guy reaches for me, his fingers making a grabby hold for my ass.

  “No need to be so frigid about it. It’s just a drink.”

  I can take care of myself. I can. But I’m frozen by the feel of his hand on me. I should tell him to fuck off. I should slap him. Instead my body is trapped in itself, breathless and useless at once.

  Chase moves quicker than I can follow. His hands plant on the other man’s chest, giving him a shove backward. The stranger isn’t small, but he’s still a few inches and several dozen pounds lighter than Chase. Suddenly it’s extra clear, beneath that tight T-shirt, how big Chase is. How all those muscles he uses to fight gravity could be all too good at fighting other things.

  I’d forgotten the rest of the world was here. Now I’m reminded of them by the sudden stop of conversation around us, the gasps over the pound of the bass.

  “Hey. You fucking starting with me?”

  The other guy is drunk enough to be stupid. Chase, I suddenly realize, isn’t drunk at all. Just like the party, he’s held on to his control. His growl is low and steady, his fingers folding into fists.

  “I don’t know. Is your mouth going to keep writing checks your ass can’t cash?”

  The music is so loud, but it’s totally clear. To the other man. To me. To the people who are watching, hushed, at the latest bit of reality TV exploding over their night out.

  Violence threads the muscles over Chase’s shoulders, all that restraint only just holding.

  The other man can see it too. He’s fallen silent, the anger grit over his jaw vying with the indecision in his eyes. A swallow bobs over his throat as Chase steps up to him, chest to chest, the air rippling with threat.