Page 3 of Chasin’s Surrender

“Y’all just gettin’ in?” Genevieve asked, but before Chasin could answer, she laughed and continued. “Right, I know it’s just midnight in Los Angeles. No, you didn’t wake me, my internal clock’s still on West Coast time.”

Chasin stood under one of the large archways, leaned his shoulder against it, and took in her sexy form. Genevieve’s back was to him. She was looking out the window, likely taking in the clear view of the Chester River. All she was wearing was a tee that barely hit the bottom of her ass. No panties, plump cheeks poking out, and memories of those firm, round…

“I know, honey,” she sighed, and Chasin narrowed his eyes on her back.

Honey?

“I swear I’m being careful,” she said into the phone. “It’s only a few days, Bobby, then you’ll be here.”

Bobby.

Chasin scanned the events that had led up to them finding themselves in her bed, and at no time had she mentioned that she had a man. Acid hit his gut and anger started to build.

What the fuck?

“No! I don’t want you to cut your trip short. I’m fine. There’s nothing to worry about.” Another brief pause and she laughed. Not the same way she’d laughed with him earlier. It didn’t come from her belly, full and throaty, expressing her humor like she’d expressed everything else, with wild abandon and full of energy.

Fuck.

“Right. See you in a few days. Love you, too.”

The acid that had been churning in his gut bubbled up and spewed out before he could contain it.

“What the fuck?” he seethed.

Genevieve startled and spun around. Even in the dim light, he could see her face had gone pale.

“Jesus, you scared me,” she said, and covered her heart with her hand.

“Bet I did,” Chasin returned, unable to keep the irritation from his tone.

Genevieve tilted her head, took a step then abruptly stopped.

“What’s wrong?”

“Didn’t ask. Didn’t think I needed to. Apparently, I was wrong and I should’ve.”

“Ask what?”

“If you had a man. Didn’t take you for the type.”

“The type?” Genevieve’s torso jerked, taking her back a step. “What are you talking about?”

“The type of woman that’d turn out to be a lying, cheating bitch. Again, know I didn’t ask, but you gotta know that shit is whacked. What’s worse is, I’m not a cheat and you fuckin’ played me, making me one. Totally fucked, Genevieve. You wanna screw around on your man, not my business, but it’s not me who’s gonna fuck you while you screw over the poor chump.”

Chasin turned to leave and heard her call his name. When he stopped and looked over his shoulder at her, she’d wrapped her arms around her middle, face a shade paler, but he didn’t give a shit she looked like she was getting ready to cry. He hadn’t lied, he wasn’t a cheat, not on either end of that, and he was pissed as shit at her she’d turned him into one.

He should’ve fucking asked.

He hated cheats.

“Never mind,” she mumbled.

Without another word, he headed up the wide staircase. Wisely, Genevieve didn’t follow.

He dressed, grabbed his shit off her nightstand, and with all due haste, he got the fuck out of her house.

Chasin did this with acid in his gut and his chest hollow.