Page 10 of Chasin’s Surrender

Gold glittered, and fucking hell, Chasin felt it in two places—in his gut and his dick. And when she narrowed those golden orbs on him, snapped her shoulders back, placed a hand on her hip, and prepared for battle, Chasin felt that, too—gut, dick, and a third place—his chest. All three burned.

“Do not bark at me like I’m a dog, Chasin Murray. I don’t know who the hell you think you are, ordering me around.”

That was when Genevieve unintentionally gave Chasin the opening he needed.

“You know who I am.”

Pain flickered—just a flash, there then gone. But with it came longing. He was well-acquainted with the emotion, therefore he didn’t miss it.

Genevieve didn’t look like she wanted to feel it, she almost certainly didn’t want him to know she felt it, but he saw she did, the same as him.

The stubborn set of her jaw reminded him of one of the many things he liked about her. The woman was gorgeous, soft, sweet, funny, sensational in bed, smart—but she was no pushover.

He thought he’d been wrong, he’d thought he’d been played.

As it turned out, he’d been wrong about a lot, but it wasn’t that.

He’d been right about one thing—Genevieve Ellison was indeed his perfect match.

And he was going to prove it to her.

4

Chasin didn’t know it—couldn’t know, because he didn’t know me—that his words once again cut me to the quick.

You know who I am.

I suspected I did. I knew the type of man he was, the type who had made it clear he thought I was a lying cheat. The type who would jump to conclusions. The type who had no issue gutting someone, uncaring their words had ripped open decades’ worth of wounds.

I glanced down at the newly inked words on my forearm—but it’s not me—a fresh reminder I’d gotten tattooed three days ago, one that I’d memorialized on my flesh so I’d never again forget.

Chasin was not the man who’d ever know the real Genevieve Ellison. No one would. I’d remain cold and distant. I’d be Vivi Rush. She was tough, ballsy, and full of sass.

Yeah, I’d give in and be her from here on out.

But that didn’t solve my current crisis. Not the one where I had a crazed fan stalking me. No, I had a bigger problem, one that I needed to shut down. And in doing so, I was going to embarrass the hell out of myself.

Genevieve would care.

Vivi did not.

“Yeah, honey, I know you.” I laid on my Tennessee drawl thick. Slow like molasses, I let my words roll off my tongue. “But you don’t know me. Maybe you think because I let you in my bed you now get to boss me. You were good, I’ll give you that, but, darlin’, not so good I’ll snap to.”

Lies. All lies. Chasin wasn’t good in bed, he was great. Best I’d ever had. So good, that had he not been a dick, I absolutely would’ve snapped to if it meant I’d get more. Not just more sex. More of his gentle teasing, more of his smiles, more of him looking at me like he thought I was something special.

A slow smirk tugged at Chasin’s lips and I knew I’d made a bad play, and when he opened his mouth, I found that even though I had years of practice, he was better. Way better.

“Good? Babe, now I know you’re lyin’. Good’s when you got someone between your legs that’s got enough talent to get you off once. Great’s when you get that twice. Honey, what we had was fuckin’ phenomenal. I know that because I had you over that edge four times before you asked for more. Which, honey, I gladly gave you. And that was the first night. You wanna talk about day two?”

Did he…

Did he just say that?

Hell to the no! It was the truth, he’d given me five spectacular orgasms the first night. Two for me was unheard of, five was so far out of the realm of my imagination I’d never considered it. But that didn’t mean it was okay for him to blurt it out.

God. What a dick.

Bobby gasped beside me. I hadn’t shared about Chasin and I’d never intended to. I’d never been big on sharing, not even with my best friend, but over the last few years, I’d shared less and less. I kept my thoughts and feelings to myself, only allowing them to come out in my music.