“Unhealthy?” Chasin cut Bobby off. “Is there another kind of obsession?”
“Of course there is,” Bobby snapped. “The kind where fans can’t get enough of her music. The kind that leads them to buy it, talk about it, fill venues, buy merchandise.”
Chasin’s lips curled in disgust. Christ, the woman was talking about Genevieve like she was a product instead of a person.
“I can see this was a mistake,” Bobby started. “The label gave us a few options, including using her regular bodyguards. I thought coming here was best, since you’re close. But I was wrong.”
“Bobby.” Genevieve grabbed the woman’s hand. “Let’s sit down.”
“No, Vivi, no. I understand you’re not taking this seriously. You don’t want to believe it. I get it, I do. You like to live with your head in the clouds, writing your music.” Chasin’s eyes were glued to Genevieve so he didn’t miss her face twitch at the insult. “What you have to understand is, it’s my job to make it safe for you to do that. This is serious, Vivi. He’s escalating.”
Chasin wanted to know what escalating meant but he couldn’t get past the rush of anger. Someone was obviously stalking Genevieve, yet she’d invited a stranger into her home, made him dinner, talked openly to him, drank a bottle of wine with him, and allowed him to fuck her. All within hours of meeting him. Then she’d let him spend the night, and they’d spent the second day much like they’d spent the first, only there was a little more conversation. But it was worth noting that at no fucking time had she told him she was a goddamn country music star.
What the fuck?
An irritated rumble built deep in his gut, burning his lungs, and when he could no longer keep it contained, it rushed out in a snarl, “Jesus fuck, Genevieve.”
Both women jolted at his outburst but it was Genevieve who paled. Fuck him, just like the night he’d laid into her and left. Except this time, it wasn’t only hurt that flashed—a liberal amount of panic shone in her golden eyes.
“Chasin,” she whispered.
His name was not an answer.
“Outside,” he barked.
“Wait. What?” Bobby stepped in front of Genevieve.
Chasin would’ve thought the protective gesture was amusing if he wasn’t so pissed off. Genevieve had at least three inches on the petite blonde, and thirty pounds. Thirty pounds that gave Genevieve her sexy curves. Tits and ass that were both abundant and soft. A body that was built to take a man like him.
Perfect in every way.
“Chasin, let’s all sit down and—”
“Out. Side.”
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.
I glared at Chasin, which only amused him more.
Asshole.
“Now that we’ve established that Chasin and Ms. Ellison know each other, maybe we can all sit,” the man who’d introduced himself as Nixon Swagger said. “I’d like to go over what the label sent us and ask a few questions.”
Bobby tugged at my hand but I didn’t take my eyes off Chasin.