Chapter 5: Counter Play
Chanse went very still for a heartbeat, his breath hot against Tommy’s mouth. Then a low, rough laugh vibrated between them. “Is that right?” He caught Tommy’s wrist, peeling his hand from his hair with deliberate, unsurprising strength, and pinned it to the sticky counter beside a half-empty whiskey bottle. His other hand settled firmly on the back of Tommy’s neck, not harsh, but inescapable. “You’ve been holding back all day for me, baby. Pretending.”
He leaned close, his voice dropping to a whisper that skated over Tommy’s skin. “On that set, with everyone watching… every time you shifted in that chair, I saw it.” Tommy shuddered, the memory of the plug a live wire. “That wasn’t restraint,” Chanse murmured, his lips brushing Tommy’s ear. “That was you begging. And I heard you.”
He released Tommy’s neck, stepping back just enough to let the cold air of the kitchen rush between them. Tommy pushed upright, turning, his chest heaving. Chanse just watched him, hazel eyes dark in the flickering light, and slowly tugged his shirt off over his head, tossing it onto a chair. His expression softened, the game-face melting away, leaving something quieter and more devastating. “You don’t have to be broken, Tommy.” He reached out, calloused thumb stroking the stubble on Tommy’s jaw. “Just be mine. Right now, just be here.”