by Lisa Suzanne
“Aren’t you just doing the same thing as last time, though? You’re giving her the space she wants to figure it out, and what if she chooses him?”
I don’t admit to Rose that I simply haven’t allowed myself to have that thought.
She won’t choose him.
She can’t.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“See you tomorrow,” Chase says to Tom, his position coach and the last person to leave the party.
“Tomorrow?” I ask. I’m not drunk, exactly, but I haven’t had four strong rum and Cokes since high school, so it’s hitting me hard.
“My buddy Troy is hosting a little get together like this one. Hope that’s okay.” He closes the front door behind Tom.
“Will there be pizza rolls?” My eyes twinkle as I tease him, and I love how easily we’ve already fallen back into our old habits.
He smirks at me. “I just wanted things to be perfect.”
“Pepperoni pizza rolls were totally perfect. Especially because I haven’t had one in a decade. You might just be onto something, Chase Camden.” I giggle as I slur his name. Okay, maybe I am a little drunk. I sort of had to be to give me the confidence to get through an evening with all the people Chase is closest to...or at least the ones he invited here tonight.
He leans in close, and if I’m being honest, I think he’s about at the same level of tipsiness as me. “I love the way my name sounds rolling off your tongue.”
“Chase Camden,” I murmur, my eyes focused on his lips.
“Mmm,” he moans, closing his eyes like he’s in ecstasy. When he opens them again, they’re dark with want. They flick down to my mouth, and I drag my bottom lip through my teeth. “God, I want to kiss you again.”
“Then kiss me again.” I’m not sure if the words actually make it out of my mouth or I just think I say them before his lips crash down to mine and his body shoves mine against the back of his front door.
I groan into him as I allow the pent-up need of the last ten years to flow to the surface. I grind my hips against his, searching drunkenly for some reprieve from the constant ache between my thighs, but it’s fruitless with clothes on.
Chase’s tongue brutalizes mine in a way that’s both familiar and brand new. His touch, his closeness, his voice, his smell...those are all total recalls of the past. Even some of the way he kisses is familiar, but he’s slower now, and he’s more aggressive, like he’s picked a lot up in our time apart.
And judging from what I know about him, he probably has learned a new trick or two. Or a hundred.
He slides his hands under my shirt, and I feel their sudden warmth on my back. An alarm rings out in my head that we’re moving too fast. He’s touching me and moving his palms along my skin in a way that’s so reminiscent of a past life, in a way that tells me what he’s physically planning for us next, but I don’t know if I’m ready.
I guess coming here in the first place is sending the signal that I am, in fact, ready for all that, and logic tells me I should be ready considering he is all I’ve wanted for so goddamn long...but I need more time.
And I need to be honest about that.
Despite my semi-drunken haze, I manage to break our kiss. I lean my head back with a gentle thud on his front door, and we both chuckle a little.
“You okay?” he asks. He shoves his hips toward me once more for good measure, as if I didn’t already know how hard he is.
“I’m okay. I’d just, uh, like to slow it down a bit.”
He nods. “Of course.” He turns from me, more than likely to mask his disappointment.
“I’m, uh...” I trail off as I search for the right words. Four rum drinks ago I wouldn’t have had the nerve to say what I need to say. I take a deep breath and blurt it out. “There’s someone else in the picture.”
His brows dip down in surprise before his face smooths over. He nods, and then he says softly, “Okay, Dee.” He clears his throat like he can’t quite process what I just told him. I open my mouth to tell him more, to explain who it is and what’s different and why I need more time to decide, but he speaks first. “I have a guest room that you’re welcome to use if you aren’t ready to stay with me.”
I clear my throat, the moment for me to speak suddenly ripped away somehow. “I’d like to stay with you. On the condition that I’m not ready for more just yet.”
He nods once. “I’ve got a semi-early workout in the morning. You want to hang out with me and I can show you the ropes?”
“Sure,” I say, interested in what that means and what a typical workout is for a football superstar like Chase.
“Let’s get ready for bed, then. I’ll show you around the rest of the house tomorrow if that’s okay.” He turns and heads up one of the staircases, and I wonder how he chooses which one to climb.
“Of course,” I say, following him up.
When we get to his bedroom, I notice it’s manly like his kitchen—all black furniture and dark décor. A huge television hangs on the wall opposite his bed, and French doors on the far side of the room open to a balcony that overlooks his pool and sprawling backyard. I spot my suitcase on a little bench next to the doors, as if he knew we’d end up together in his room before the night even started. His walls are filled with photos of him on the field, and again I wonder how long he’s lived here...but I’m too tired to ask at the moment.
“I’m just gonna take a quick shower,” he says, heading toward his private bathroom. “You can use it first if you need to, or there’s another one down the hall, first door on the right.”
“I’ll go to the other one so you can shower.”
He shoots me a smile then heads into the bathroom without closing the door all the way, and I can’t help but feel like he’s a little upset I didn’t want to have sex tonight. Did I send him the wrong impression? Or is it just that he’s not used to women rejecting sex with him? It doesn’t matter, and it might just be the alcohol making me feel that way anyway, but a sudden feeling of homesickness washes over me.
I walk over to the doors leading to the balcony and stare down over the pool for a few quiet seconds, the sound of the shower filling my ears as he turns it on.
It’s no beach view, but it’s still nice and relaxing in its own right.
I shake that thought away and open my suitcase. I grab out the shorts I sleep in and a white t-shirt along with my toiletry bag, and then I make my way down the hall to the guest bathroom Chase mentioned.
The floor creaks a little with my steps, sending shivers down my spine. This house is just too damn big for one person to live here.
Maybe that’s why he wants me to come live here with him.
I shake that ridiculous thought out of my head as I wash my face and brush my teeth. I change into my pajamas, and then I head back to Chase’s bedroom.
When I walk in, I can’t help when my head automatically turns toward the partially open bathroom door. And what I see steals my breath.
A naked Chase stands dripping wet beneath the spray of water, but it isn’t just the sight of his muscular frame or the fact that he’s naked and wet as beads of water slip down the perfect six pack of his abdomen.
I’m a voyeur watching as he pumps his fist up and down his thick shaft, his neck corded as he leans back into the water while he jerks off in the shower.
Is he thinking about me in there? Is he wishing I would’ve joined him? Or did he take this shower to relieve some of the sexual tension that he feels between us?
Part of me wishes it was my hand in there while the other knows the timing isn’t right.
But seeing him like this, naked and sexually charged...it’s making me want him the same way I used to want him. Everything south of my belly button tightens as an achy throb pulses between my legs, and I’m half-tempted to stick my fingers into my panties while I watch him.
He picks up the pace, tugging at himself aggressively, and I know he’s getting close to his release. My fingertips trail up to massage my own breast as
I allow the lust I feel to take over for just a second.
But that’s all it is, because just as I brush against my own pointed nipple, his eyes pop open and I’m caught. I drop my hand to my side, mortified, but I can’t look away. His pumps slow, and then his eyes hood over as he keeps them trained directly on me. My eyes dart down to his hand and I watch the thick streams erupting from him with awe as he comes. I can’t hear his grunts over the sound of the shower, but I vividly remember them.
My eyes move back to his, which are still gazing at me, and then I can’t take the embarrassment anymore. I run to his bed, climb in on what we once dubbed my side, and pretend to be asleep.
He comes in with a whispered, “Dee?”
And I keep up the charade.
I have to, because watching him as he pleasured himself and then came all over his own hand while he watched me watching him is something I never plan to talk about again.
And his workout the next morning isn’t much better than watching him in the shower.
He’s dripping wet again—this time from swimming—and he wears just a pair of striped navy and white swim trunks. He’s so damn hot that it’s not even fair, and the sexual tension continues to build between the two of us.
He spent time leading me through his workouts before he finished with laps in his pool. The whole workout took place at his house, and his trainer, Brett, showed up for the first couple hours to lead him through the tougher parts. But once Brett took off, it was Chase’s turn to lead me through some tough workouts that included ropes and box jumps. He showed me his fondness for squats and lunges, which I still don’t understand, and he claimed his cool down was swimming laps. And even though we both woke with hangovers this morning, Brett assured us both that sweating it out is the best way to get rid of it.
He might be onto something, because after the workout Chase just ran me through, I feel a lot better.
I opted out of swimming—mostly so I could watch him—and as he surfaces after completing his workout, it’s like something out of a movie, slow-motion and all.
“Let’s hit the showers and reconvene in the kitchen for lunch.”
The showers.
So much blood rushes to my cheeks that I actually feel a little woozy.
“You okay?” he asks, his brow furrowing as he dries off his legs and tosses the towel around his neck.
“Fine,” I squeak.
He grins like he gets the inside joke, and I almost make a comment on it before I stop myself as I remember my personal vow that I’d never talk about what I witnessed last night.
“How was your swim?” I ask, changing the subject as I pretend my face isn’t flaming red.
“The only thing that would’ve made it better is you in a swimsuit with me.” He shrugs. “Or naked. Take your pick.” I narrow my eyes at him, and he chuckles before he playfully whips the towel in my direction. “Get that cute ass in the shower before I bring you into mine with me.”
I stand with a giggle as I think maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
It’s mostly the same people I met last night at the party at Troy’s house, but this time there are more than a few women present.
Chase spent the afternoon at his football camp with the youth of Denver, and I spent some time going over my summer school lesson plans for next week at the expansive kitchen table in his house. He invited me to come along to camp, but I didn’t want to impose on his professional obligations.
He obviously has his pick of any girl here, but he’s opting to keep his fingers linked through mine as he introduces me to more of his friends and teammates. He’s already turned away several women who made it clear that they’d be more than happy to assist him in the shower, yet he’s standing by my side, turning them away as he leans in to nuzzle my neck or squeeze my hand or just in general play the role of doting boyfriend even though technically we aren’t at that place.
But if he keeps his lips close to my neck like he has been, I’m not so sure I’m going to be able to resist much longer.
“Do you live around here?” some blonde woman who’s been making eyes at Chase all night asks me.
I shake my head. “Los Angeles.”
She raises a brow. “You let this one run around Denver unleashed?”
Chase chuckles. “I don’t need a leash.”
Travis, the tight end for the Broncos, laughs loudly behind Chase.
“So who is this girl who’s trying to tame down our Chasey?”
Chasey? I swallow down the bile that rises at the back of my throat at her little nickname.
“She’s actually my high school sweetheart.” He looks over at me, and I see an adoration there that I must have missed before. “The one girl who ever managed to steal a piece of my heart.”
I melt into a puddle of lust right there on the spot.
Blondie snarls in my direction a little before she plasters on a fake smile.
“Isn’t that sweet?” she asks, her words matching her smile.
Chase squeezes my hand and kisses my cheek. “The sweetest.”
He excuses us when he notices my glass of wine—not rum and Coke—is empty, and he leads me over to the kitchen counter. “Sorry about her,” he mutters to me.
I giggle. “It’s okay,” I say. I lean toward him and press both my palms on his chest. He loops his arms around my waist. “You had a life in the ten years we were apart, just like I did.”
His eyes flash with something dark, and I chalk it up to a little bit of jealousy. “I don’t want to know about who you dated aside from me.”
“Neither do I, but your pool is much bigger than mine.”
He laughs and takes my chin in his fingertips. “No one else matters.” He says it with conviction, like he’s trying to erase my words from the night before that there’s someone else in the picture.
He presses a soft kiss to my lips, and then we both hear someone yell, “Take it upstairs!”
He breaks from me with an eyeroll. “You got an open room?”
And there goes my blush again. Now everyone will think we’re sleeping together, even though we’re not...yet.
On Saturday, he wears his ballcap low over his eyes and takes me on a local tour. We hit a few bars with local beers, do some sightseeing downtown, and end up back at his place. He was recognized a few times, but the hat helped, and combined with the fact that he looked like a tourist in love with the girl accompanying him contrasted with the persona he gives the media.
I keep thinking how I need to tell him that the other guy I’m seeing is Gavin, that I need to give him more of my truth—that I want to see whether the fantasy I’ve dreamed about for a decade is real, that I want to explore where things could go with us but that I also have feelings for someone else—but the timing is off. Every instance I have to interject it into our conversation feels like the wrong one, and so I haven’t said anything more on the subject yet.
And it’s tearing me apart. My chest constantly aches as the guilt presses on me. He told me he had big plans for a nice dinner out, so I pull on the one dress I brought with me as I hope to find the time tonight to talk about what’s going on in my heart. I’m just putting the finishing touches on my make-up when he calls up. “You almost ready?”
“Two minutes!” I yell back, and then I spritz on a little perfume and do a final once-over. I feel pretty despite the fact that Rose would yell at me for wearing an off-the-rack dress from a department store.
I descend one of the staircases, and Chase stands at the bottom. He’s wearing black pants and a charcoal button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he looks like divine perfection. As I get closer, I smell the familiar Gio cologne, and it feels sort of like walking into the front door of your house after being away for far too long.
His mouth forms a smile as he looks up at me. “You’re gorgeous,” he says, and he takes my hand when I’m on the second to last step. He helps me down then pulls me into
him. “God, I missed this.”
I know the feeling. He holds me tightly in his arms, and I’m half-tempted to rest my cheek against his chest, but I don’t want to leave a smudge of make-up on his shirt.
He presses a gentle kiss to my cheek since I just finished painting my lips to perfection. “Ready to go?”
I nod, and we head out the front door together to the same car that was waiting for me at the airport, complete with Ray standing out front beside the driver’s side door.
“Our ride awaits,” Chase says gallantly, and I sort of feel like a princess on her way to the ball even though it’s really just Chase and me heading to some restaurant for dinner.
We hold hands in the car, and he points out landmarks with little stories as we drive. It’s only twenty minutes before we pull into a parking lot, and then Ray gets out of the car while we stay in the back. I move to grab the door handle, and he halts me with a hand on my arm. “Ray’s just checking us in. He’ll come get us when our table is ready.”
I nod like I get it, but all this is so foreign to me. It shows me once again why he wanted to stay away from public places when we got together in Los Angeles. It surprises me that he’s taking the risk in a place like Denver. I’d imagine people here tend to get more starstruck than they do in LA, where celebrity sightings are much more common.
Ray returns a minute later and opens Chase’s door. “All ready for you.”
Chase nods. “Thanks, Ray.” He turns to me and raises both brows with a grin. “Here we go.”
I sort of don’t know what to expect. He isn’t donning the ballcap he wore earlier, which means people will recognize him. And he’s making a very public appearance with me.