"If you don't stop arguing over me like two dogs with a bone, then I'm going to go home by myself," she informed them, pressing her hands to her temples. "God. I don't care where I go, I just want to sleep."

She was unaware of the concern that filled the air. Timothy had never seen his daughter bloody; Celia knew she'd have nightmares for years to come over it. And Chase. Chase felt as though rage was going to destroy his sanity. So help him God, if he found out who did this, he was going to kill.

"I'll get her signed out of here," Sanjer promised. "I'll be there in an hour, Chase. Have my room ready. And some food if no one minds. My dinner was interrupted tonight."

Chase moved around the bed, holding Kia's attention, seeing in her eyes the vulnerability there, the almost hidden fears and desires. He didn't bother to hide his. He wouldn't make the same mistake he had made earlier tonight. He had dared to take his eyes off her when everything inside him had screamed at him to go with her, to chase after her.

She was stuck with him now, and he wondered if that might ultimately end up destroying both of them. Chase had never been one to let go of anything that belonged to him. And he was starting to feel as though Kia… belonged.

He picked her up in his arms, feeling how light she was, how fragile. He held her gaze.

"I told you," he whispered then. "It doesn't change. Only the circumstances do."

"And I told you," she whispered back. "Bet me!"

Chapter 17

Dr. Sanjer checked Kia again after Chase took her to his apartment and put her to bed. She knew it was his bed. The monstrous four-poster had to be his. Only he was tall enough to climb into it easily.

Now she lay silent, staring at the ceiling, counting off the hours as she tried to figure out exactly how she had ended up in his bed. With him in it.

She was dressed in one of Chase's T-shirts and her bronze panties. A sheet and a finely sewn heirloom quilt covered her, and beside her Chase lay, his arm thrown over her stomach as he slept.

She was lying there wishing she could roll away from him, wishing she could get enough distance between them to make sense of the feelings that kept moving through her.

She had dreamed of sleeping with him. Now that she was there, in his bed, sleep was the furthest thing from her mind. Kia just wanted to make sense of exactly what was happening, right now, inside her.

Chase lay relaxed against her, his head close to hers, his larger, more powerful body warming her. She had to restrain the urge to stroke her hand along his arms, to lay her head against his chest, and ask him why the hell he was doing this to her.

He was messing her head up, messing her heart up, and she had no idea how she was supposed to act now, or how she was supposed to feel.

Lying in his arms was heaven and hell.

She closed her eyes and fought the emotions she couldn't seem to bury deep enough to hide from. Tears flowed from the corners of her eyes, and she swore she wasn't going to turn in his arms and beg him to. make sense of this for her.

Her head was hurting. That was the problem, she assured her-self. She felt bruised and frightened, and so terribly off balance now.

Which was worse? Lying alone in her own bed, or lying with Chase and fighting to hold herself away from him?

"If you keep crying, Kia, you might well break my heart."

Her eyes jerked open as Chase shifted beside her and leaned up, staring down at her as he lifted his hand from her hip and brushed a tear from her cheek.

"It's the headache," she whispered, her lips trembling.

"I know, baby." He kissed her temple gently. "Dr. Sanjer can't give you anything more right now."

His hand cupped her neck, his fingertips moving against the back of her head, so gently. Caressing and massaging, stroking her flesh as another tear fell.

"You're never going to let me get over you, are you?" she finally asked, feeling the gentle, easy movements at the base of her neck relaxing a bit of the pain away.

Oh, that felt nice. Her lashes fluttered closed for a moment as she breathed in, letting that slow, easy massage penetrate her brain.

"Never," he agreed, but his voice was soft, easy. A whisper of knowledge that flowed through her as he shifted closer to her, or did he pull her against him?

She wasn't certain now. She knew his fingers didn't stop that slow, easy glide, and the more he caressed the hollow at the base of her head, the more the headache eased.

"I like that," she finally sighed.

"When Cameron was a boy, he used to get headaches," he told her. "I'd watch Mom rub his head. She said even kids knew how to stress out. You don't have to stress out, Kia. I'll keep you safe."

"From everyone but you," she sighed, tucking her face against his chest.

"From everyone but me," he agreed, his voice heavy despite his gentle tone.

She let a bittersweet smile form on her lips as his fingers stroked her neck. Kia knew she should be pulling away. Better to deal with the headache than to deal with Chase, in his bed, curled against him as the darkness wrapped around them, heavy with sensuality.

"Why did you hide for the past two years, Kia?" She felt his lips against her brow again. "Why didn't you let Rebecca Harding and her little friends take the fall as liars rather than putting it on your head and taking everything on your own shoulders?"

Why had she? She breathed out roughly, her fingers digging into the comforter covering her as she tried to hold on to her determination.

"I'm not going to let it go," he assured her. "Tell me why?"

"Because it was easier," she finally whispered. And it was only partially the truth. "Rebecca didn't start that grief, Chase. I did. I trusted the wrong person, and I married the wrong man. I needed time."

"Don't lie to me." The rough whisper was breathed against her cheek. "Right here, right now, Kia. Give me the truth."

"Because I knew I wouldn't be able to stay away from you, and I didn't want to humiliate myself further."

There. She had said it. She admitted to him what she had fought against admitting even to herself. She was licking her wounds; it was a partial truth. She was embarrassed. Who wouldn't have been? But she had also known she was weak. Drew had seen it. Even Rebecca had known of the fascination Kia had for Chase. And the thought of further rejection had kept her curled inside herself like a frightened child.

She had made the excuses to herself. Her confidence was low. She was afraid of trusting. When all was said and done, this was the reason why she had hid until she couldn't hide anymore.

Rejection she could take. Loving Chase had been something she didn't think she was strong enough to handle.

Silence filled the bedroom then. Chase pressed her closer to his chest, his fingertips stroking the back of her neck, easing the headache away and filling her with a lazy, frightening sensuality.

"Every woman has a weakness," she whispered against his chest. "You were my weakness, Chase. Even Drew knew I couldn't keep my eyes off you. The more our marriage deteriorated, the worse it became. I didn't want others seeing that and believing I had been unfaithful, or that you'd had any part in that break."

"Would you have stayed with him if he hadn't brought the third in that night?"

She flattened her hands against his chest, felt his heartbeat against her palms, slow and steady.

"I loved Drew when I married him. I loved the illusion he gave me of who and what he was. I don't want illusions anymore. But neither do I want a relationship that's cold and remote except in the bed."

"What do you want, Kia?"

She lifted her head and stared into the shadowed expanse of his expression. "I want something real. I want to laugh. I want to be able to cry when I need to. I want to dance, and I want to be free. And I want to be held."

His fingers continued to stroke, to massage her neck.

"It's hard to be free and to be held at the same time," he told her quietly.

"Is it, Chase?" She touched his jaw, simply because she couldn't help herself. "Isn't that what love truly is? Being free even as you're being held? Knowing you can reach for the stars, and someone's there to share it with you? Or to give you a boost if you need it? Someone to laugh with, love with, cry and argue with? Someone you know will be there when you're moody, when you're dark, or when you just need a hug." She smiled up at him, feeling it inside her, reaching out to him, knowing Chase was the man she wanted that with. "Isn't mat love?"

Chase felt the dreams that moved through her as though they were his own. It was so unfamiliar, the sensations so unique, that he wanted nothing more at that moment than to get out of the bed and leave the room. To escape the velvet bonds he could feel wrapping around him.

"You're free, Chase," she whispered, moving her hand back from his jaw and fixing on him with those gem-bright, dream-rich eyes. "Always free."

And she would always hold him. He saw that, too. Saw that Kia held things inside her, wrapped herself around the people she loved in such a subtle way that they never knew what she had done until it was too late. Until she owned a part of them.

"You're delirious," he replied, but his hand smoothed down along her side until he was cupping her hip, holding her to the thick, hard ridge of his erection.

"I need you." She whispered his words back to him, and Chase swore his heart was going to leap right out of his chest.

"You're hurt." He swallowed tightly. "When you're better. Ah fuck, Kia."

Slender, graceful fingers moved from his chest to the heavy weight of his erection. They curled around it, stroked, pumping his flesh with silken destruction.

"Not a good idea," he groaned. "Sanjer will kill me for this."

Her lips brushed his jaw, her tongue reaching out to stroke, to taste his flesh. Each touch was like a destructive whisper. Chase held her to him, let her touch, let her stroke, and he pushed back the hunger rising inside him like a beast he didn't know how to control.

He had tried, he told himself. He had tried to stay as far away from her as possible. He had tried to save them both.

"Kia, go to sleep, or your headache's going to get worse," he warned her. "When I slide inside you, I don't want to stop until we're both coming. Until our heads are exploding. You don't want that right now."

He gripped her hand, held her wrist still.

"You don't want me?" The edge of vulnerability in her voice sliced at his chest.

"One of these days, very soon, you're going to find out exactly how much I do want you," he warned her. "But not tonight." He lifted her hand from his flesh. "Not when it will only hurt you worse."

She moved to turn out of his arms, to pull away from him.

"Don't do it, Kia." He clamped his hand on her hip, staring down at her as she looked up at him in surprise. "You don't pull away from me, do you understand that? Not now, not ever again."

The hand that landed on his chest was less than gentle. A hard slap against the tensed muscles before he was forced to allow her to push away from him.

"Understand this," she told him fiercely. "You won't control me, Chase Falladay. Period. And the minute I'm able to push my butt out of this bed and stumble to that front door of yours, I am so out of here."

She jerked her pillow to her, slapped it, and laid her head gingerly against it.

Chase grinned. He waited, counting down the minutes, the seconds. Then easily, gently, he pressed his fingers back into her neck and began to knead the tense muscles again.

Nearly six inches separated them. For now. Until he could ease her into sleep, then he would have her in his arms once again. And in his arms was exactly where she belonged.

As her shoulders relaxed and her head settled deeper into her pillow, Chase moved to her. A while later, she was backing into his warmth once again, and it wasn't long after that he was following her into sleep with his arms around her.