“It almost looks like a tattoo. Even your scars are beautiful.”

I remembered what I’d noticed on Chase’s body earlier. “Speaking of tattoos…I couldn’t help but see yours this afternoon. Is it your only one?”

Chase leaned back in his chair. “Yes.”

The fact that he didn’t offer more and seemed anxious to move on from the subject made me pry even further. “What does it say? They’re words, right?”

He looked around the room, then lifted his drink and took a healthy gulp. “It says Fear does not stop death. It stops life.”

I waited until his eyes finally settled on me to speak. “Well, I can certainly relate to that.”

We stared at each other. I struggled to find the right words of encouragement to get him to open up as his eyes left mine and went back to my scar. I hadn’t found those words yet when he unexpectedly continued.

“Peyton and I went to high school together. We were friends—didn’t get together until my last semester of college. My life was moving really fast by then. I had patents, office space…I was hiring staff.” He paused. “A year after we graduated, I proposed. She died two days later.”

My heart practically leaped into my throat. There was pain in his voice, and I literally felt tightness in my chest. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded and again took a minute before continuing. “I was pretty screwed up afterward for a long time. It’s why I initially licensed most of my products. I was drinking heavily and knew I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to do everything it would take to bring new products into the marketplace myself. Luckily, my lawyers were in the right frame of mind. They negotiated deals where I got a generous royalty just for letting companies use my patents for a few years. I kept my research team, so I had something to focus on, but there wasn’t much else I had to do.”

“Sounds like you did the right thing.”

“Yeah. In hindsight, I did.”

I was dying to ask the question but wasn’t sure what words to use. “How did…your fiancée…I mean…was she…sick?”

He shook his head. “No. She was assaulted. Seven years ago next week. Never caught the guy who did it.”

I reached out and took his hand. “God, I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you.” He paused then said, “It was a rough few years. Even when I began to date again, I don’t know that I was capable of doing anything more than…you know—” He gave me a sexy half smile. “—dating.”

“You mean having sex.”

He nodded. “Don’t get me wrong—I don’t want to sound like a total asshole. I never led women on. I just wasn’t interested in more than a physical connection. It wasn’t intentional. At least I don’t think it was. I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t ready to move on. Or maybe I just hadn’t met the right person to move on with.”

“That makes sense.” My stomach was in knots. It wasn’t lost on me that he’d said he wasn’t ready and he hadn’t met the right person, as if those things were past tense. He’d made it clear he wanted me physically almost from the beginning—that was never a question in my mind. I wanted so much to ask if he thought more was possible now, but I was afraid of the answer. I mean, how do you move on—fall in love with another woman—when you’ve never stopped loving someone else?

When I said nothing, Chase reached over and put his hand on my chin, gently lifting until our eyes met. “I want more with you. I can’t promise you what that is or where it will go, but it’s more than just physical. I’m attracted to everything about you—you’re smart, honest, funny, brave, a little nutty—and you make me smile for no reason. There’s no denying I want you in my bed. I think you’ve caught on to that part by now. But I want this, too. I’m tired of looking back. It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to live in the moment.”

“Wow. I don’t know what to say. Thank you. Thank you for being so honest.”

Just then, the waiter came with our dinner. The air was heavy, and I had no idea how to lighten the mood, yet I felt like we needed it. If there was one thing I knew, it was that talking about sex usually made Chase playful.

I cut a bite of my steak and brought the fork to my lips. “Have you ever played Would You Rather?”

His brows drew down. “When I was a kid.”

“My friend Jules and I play it all the time—usually after a few drinks.”

“Okay…”

I sipped my wine and held his gaze. “Would you rather pay for sex or be paid for sex?”

He cocked a brow. “Be paid. You?”

“I think I’d rather pay for it.”

“I like this game.” Chase leaned back in his chair and scratched his chin. “Top or bottom?”

“Bottom.” I paused. “You?”

“Top.” He pointed his fork at me. “See how compatible we are. Lights on or off?”

“On. You?”

“On. So I can watch your face while I sink inside of you.”

Warmth prickled my skin. I gulped. “You’re not supposed to elaborate. You’re only supposed to say your pick.”

“Why would I do that, when giving a more descriptive answer makes your skin turn such a sexy shade of pink?”

We went back and forth like that for the rest of our meal, sharing snippets of both sexy and not-so-sexy preferences. It did what I’d intended it to do—lightened the mood—but it also had desire fighting the voice of reason inside of me.

And, at the moment, desire was kicking reason’s ass.

After dinner, when Chase and I arrived at our adjoining suites, I felt like I was ending a first date in high school.

He took both my hands in his, keeping a few feet between us as he spoke. “Thank you for having dinner with me. And for letting me crash your trip.”

“You were on the plane when I got on. It’s not like I had much of a choice.” I was joking, of course.

“I’m going to take off after the morning focus group, head back to New York on an afternoon flight.”

“You’re leaving? Why?”

“Because I keep pushing, hoping you’ll break. And tonight I realized you need to get there on your own. I’ll be waiting when you do.” He pulled me to him and planted a kiss on my forehead.