Page 50 of Chasin’s Surrender

Beautiful.

“Not naked, naked.” She laughed. “Free-of-makeup naked.”

Yeah, Chasin wasn’t getting it, decided he didn’t care he didn’t get it, and figured she could explain it like he was a two-year-old and he still wouldn’t.

So he moved the conversation along.

“You want another beer or are you going to bed?”

“I…um…” she stammered but didn’t finish.

Chasin was staring right at her so he didn’t miss the pink tinging her cheeks, which reminded him of all the ways he’d made her flush and the ways he was going to again.

“You want, honey?”

“Thought I’d play my guitar a bit and unwind. But if it’s gonna bother you, I don’t have to.”

Well, fuck him. Not what he thought was the cause of the blush, but listening to her play would be a treat.

“You wanna beer while you do that?” he semi-repeated his earlier question.

“Yeah.”

“You takin’ requests?”

The sweetest smile tugged at her lips and those gorgeous golden eyes danced.

“Thought y’all weren’t a country fan,” she drawled, her words slow and sultry.

Good God, how could a simple question make his cock twitch in his pants? Though it wasn’t the question, it was the voice. One that he knew got huskier and took on more of a Southern drawl when she was close to climaxing.

“I’m not. But I’m a fan of yours. Figure you know a few non-country covers.”

“I don’t know, Chasin. First asking me to sing someone else’s music, then asking me to cover a non-country song? That’s some sacrilege shit, right there.” Genevieve mocked annoyance, shook her head, then covered her heart with her hand.

But she still went to the guitar case he’d carried in earlier, unlatched the box, and pulled the instrument free.

“What’d you have in mind? Wait. Before you say anything, you hafta know—you ask for some boy-band or teeny-bopper shit, we can’t be friends.”

“That a deal-breaker?” He smiled.

“Absolutely.”

“Noted. You know any Bob Seger or Fleetwood Mac?”

“I approve,” she mumbled, and moved to the dining room table. Once she had the chair turned to face the room, she sat and started plucking. “Give me a sec.”

Chasin went to the fridge, grabbed two beers, popped the tops, and went back to the living room.

“Bobby!” he shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

A few seconds later, she appeared with a scowl. “Why you hollerin’?”

“Get your ass down here.”

“’Scuse me?”

“Genevieve’s gonna play something. Get down here.”