Page 76 of Reckless Devotion

Bongos sound, building us to a steady crescendo before the music starts to fade, the catchphrase line fading with the synth and bell-like chimes.

When the song finally finishes, I’m breathless, partly from laughing, partly from dancing…but mostly from the heart-pounding realization that this man would be oh-so-easy to love. Faint alarm bells ring in my ears, but I push them away, too deeply bathed in the joy of this moment.

“Tell me you don’t feel good after that?” He beams, leaning down to capture my lips.

I cup his bristled cheeks and smile against his mouth, responding when he pulls away. “You might just be the biggest goofball I’ve ever met.”

He shrugs one shoulder, dazzling me with his white smile. “I’m okay with that, life is too short to take yourself too seriously.”

“Iknewyou were cracking my sister!”

I jump in his arms, twisting to see Sunny standing with her short hair sticking up at all angles and her hands on theblack cotton pajama pants that coat her hips. Her expression is indistinguishably flat.

“Like an egg?” Chase asks in confusion.

I groan softly, attempting to get out from between thick, brawny arms that don’t budge. “It doesn’t mean that.”

Guilt tugs at my edges, that ever-niggling feeling of not being good enough—not responsible enough—threatening to snatch away all of the effortless light that filled me moments ago. No one gives you a manual when you become a guardian, and I’ve got no fucking idea if it’s okay for Sunny to know that I’m screwing the hot billionaire. Part of me wants her to know that it’s okay to be sexually empowered as a woman, but another big part of me wants to shelter her from all of the things grownups deal with—the little gap-toothed version of her I first met filling my mind's eye.

“Oh,” Chase drags out the single syllable as he catches up with her meaning. “Well…yeah, I guess I am. But I like her…a lot.”

Blood charges into my cheeks, heating them to volcanic levels. This is so fucked up. I’m about to try and wrestle myself out of his grip again, when Sunny’s face splits into a wide grin.

“Good, that’s settled then.” She nods and prances into the kitchen as if there is nothing more to say on the matter, not even giving me a second glance.

“Excellent,” Chase responds in kind, letting me go and picking up the pan again to dispose of the cremated eggs.

I squeak, my mouth dropping open as I stare between two people who seem wholly unconcerned with my input…aboutmylove life.

“Just don’t expect me to call you Dad, okay?” Sunny throws herself into a chair at one side of the island, propping her chin into one hand.

Chase chuckles and places the now empty pan back on the stove. “I say we go into town for breakfast.”

“Flip yeah! Pancakes!” Sunny punches the air in victory.

Chase walks past, winking smugly and using one long finger under my chin to snap my jaw shut.

***

“And I think if you trace our family all the way back, there was a British marquis in the eighteen hundreds,” Chase muses, his chest rumbling behind my back.

“Why am I not surprised?” I scoff, reaching for the sunscreen on the side table next to the sun lounger that we share.

Lazy afternoon sun bathes the bright sand around us—the same stuff that’s somehow worked its way into every crevice of my body over the course of our beach morning. I knew Chase was Manhattan royalty, but I didn’t realize he was actually linked-to-the-British-monarchy royalty.

“Excuse me, that’s my job,” he growls in my ear, sending shivers down my spine as he plucks the bottle from my hand.

Four nights turned into a week, which turned into two, none of us wanting to leave the weirdly cohesive little bubble that we’ve formed. And it’s been bliss. Pure, unadulteratedbliss.A huge part of me wants to hide out here forever, but the city calls, and so does our visit to Queens to try and figure out this security guard. And then there is the little matter of my trial. Three weeks feels scarily close.

I cast an eye out to where Terrence and Sunny scuff stones into the foamy shoreline, checking they are otherwise occupied. The two of them seem to have developed an oddly companionable bond. That stupid cat of his won’t stopfollowing Sunny around, and Mr. Clay has decided that if Lord Bartholomew approves, then so does he.

Cold, oily liquid squirts onto my stomach, making me gasp and bringing me swiftly back into the moment. A wide hand swipes across it, causing my muscles to tense.

“No more,” I groan, lolling my head back against his chest as he begins to massage my warm skin. “I’m so sore.”

This man's appetite is voracious. We’ve just about christened every part of the sweeping beach home, and even the car on one night when Sunny and Terrence stayed up into the early hours playing drafts. I cannot get enough. Hell, maybe I’ll never get enough, and that thought sends a little zap of cool air across my skin.

He lets out a low chuckle that rumbles against me, dragging his nose down my neck and placing a soft kiss at the juncture of my shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m giving you some rest.” He swipes a sunscreen-greased hand up to my chest and covers me there too, slowly, just slowly enough to have my heart lurching. “Your skin is so smooth and beautiful.”