“I was also wondering if this is what marriage is like.”
My hand stilled. The only time he ever talked about marriage was to disparage it. “What do you mean?”
He turned his head to kiss my palm. “Marriage always seemed so big. Such a commitment. But maybe it’s not about the big things but the little day-to-day, mundane, real-life stuff. About being together like this. Waking up together. Wanting to be with you and missing you when you’re not here. Maybe it’s about meeting the right person.” He paused. “And lots of sex.”
I laughed as my heart leaped up in my chest, causing me to hope in a way that I hadn’t for a long time. I’d just ignore the fact that he had possibly called me mundane. “I think that is what it’s about. Finding someone you want to be with. Someone you’re willing to make a commitment to and fight for, no matter what. And I’m sorry.”
“For what?” His arms tightened around me as he rubbed one of his bare feet against mine.
“For asking you to be a monk. I know this can’t be easy for you.”
“You don’t have to apologize for your choices. I was a monk long before we met. I needed to focus solely on my sobriety, and that’s all I’ve done for the past couple of years. Besides,” he added with another kiss, “you’re worth the wait.”
In that moment I realized something I never had before.
I loved him.
I was completely head-over-heels, buck-wild, madly in love with Chase Covington. My breath rushed out of me, my cheeks felt hot, and it was a struggle to keep the words inside.
Because I would not say it before he did. I’d already spent most of our time together hoping our feelings were equal. I wasn’t willing to risk it, especially not with my heart on the line.
“Definitely worth it—even if you drive me insane,” he said in that low, rough voice that put all my nerve endings on edge with anticipation.
“You’re not alone in that, you know.” I couldn’t meet his gaze, worried he would see all the love and want I had for him. And that was what had become harder over time. I’d fallen in love with him, and I wanted to show him. I wanted to express those feelings physically. Even though I knew I wouldn’t.
“Obviously. Of course you want to get with all this,” he said, making me giggle and snuggle closer. “Despite what I want, I would never want you to regret anything that happens between us.”
I sort of hated that he was right. I would regret it. Regardless of how very much I would enjoy it up to that point.
Chase started kissing me then—soft, intoxicating, unhurried kisses that had me tightening my arms, wanting to melt into him. My heart thudded firmly and slowly, keeping time with his mouth.
He broke off the kiss suddenly. He turned me and pressed me flat on my back while he hovered above me, bracing himself on his elbows.
“What are you doing?” I asked, both alarmed and thrilled.
“That depends on what you let me do,” he teased, but I watched as the amusement faded from his eyes, replaced by a look of so much heartrending tenderness and longing that it made me feel like I was breaking apart. Then he used his lips to put me back together piece by piece.
I ran my hands over his upper arms, stroking the tensed muscles there, and made my way up to his shoulders and then to his thick, silky golden hair. I lightly dragged my fingertips along his scalp. I knew how much he liked that.
He made a sound of pleasure in the back of his throat that made every bit of me tingle. But he resisted deepening the kiss, keeping it featherlight but still tantalizing. It made me want to drown in his loving sweetness. Some part of my brain registered that I hadn’t brushed my teeth yet, but I completely did not care.
Especially once Chase trailed a column of velvet warmth down my throat that started a hot ache in my core. I arched my back, wanting to feel his edges and planes against my curves. My newly discovered feelings for him made it imperative that we get closer.
“This is going to get out of control if you keep doing that,” he murmured at the hollow at the base of my neck, but I couldn’t stay still. My entire body throbbed with need, and I tugged at him. Still too far away.
I sighed with relief and pleasure when he lowered his body to mine, but just as he did so, a siren started to shrill, loudly.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“The somebody’s-virtue-is-in-peril alarm,” he said, then pulled at my earlobe with his lips.
I pushed against him, and he pushed himself up. “Seriously, what is that?”
He rolled away from me and reached for his phone, then flicked through a couple of screens. “It’s the perimeter security alarm. Somebody’s on the grounds.”
I sat straight up. “Isn’t that a big deal?”
“My security company has an excellent response time. They’ll be here in a couple of minutes with dogs and big guns.” He put one hand behind his head, and he looked so comfortable and at ease that I wanted to hit him.
“Does this happen a lot?”
He frowned for a second. “It’s usually just some overzealous fan who figured out where I live. As soon as the alarm sounds, they take off. It’s one of the reasons I don’t want my fans knowing where I am all the time and knowing when I’m not home. They tend to get bolder when they think no one’s here to stop them. But you’re safe. Don’t worry about it.”
I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. It bothered me that anyone would try to sneak into his home. “And you’re leaving today. I could house-sit for you.”
He propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes serious. “No way.
“You just said it was safe.” I hated the idea of some crazy person breaking in to lie in wait and then take a sledgehammer to Chase’s ankles when he got back. I had my Mace. I could take her down.
“I don’t want you here alone. At least at your apartment you have Lexi with you.”
“Not always.”
He put his hand on my foot. “But no insane people are trying to break into your apartment. And if you stay here and something happens, I don’t want to have to go to jail for permanently maiming the person who hurts you.”
The doorbell rang, making me jump. “It’s just the security team,” he reassured me as he got up to answer it.
While he was downstairs, I went into the guest room and grabbed my stuff. I used the bathroom and got ready for the day as best I could. I didn’t want to wear the same clothes I had yesterday, so I planned to stop by my apartment and get changed before going to class.
When I got to the front door, Chase was shaking hands with a man dressed all in black carrying a massive gun. A buzz-cut, thick-neck kind of guy who looked like he could snap me in half without blinking.
Chase thanked the man and closed the door. “They didn’t find anyone. They’re going to review the security footage and let me know if there’s anything on it. Why are you down here and not up in bed waiting for me?”
The heat rushed to my skin at his words, making me want to turn around and go back upstairs. “I have to go.”
He pulled me against his chest, rendering me weak-kneed and powerless. “I can’t convince you to stay?”
“You probably could, but I have class, and you have a flight to catch.”
“Stupid real-life responsibilities,” he said and then lavished more soft and all-too-brief kisses on me.
“I really do have to go.” It was getting late, and my nerves felt a little shot from the scary siren and the kiss in his room.
Chase walked me to my car. “I’ll call you and text you whenever I get the chance.”
“Have fun in Europe. I’ll miss you.” I wished I had the courage to tell him I loved him, but I hoped the opportunity would present itself soon. Like, after he said it to me first.
And with one last lip-searing, soul-shattering kiss, I was finally on my way. I passed the guard station and realized I was in dire need of gas. My phone’s GPS guided me to a gas station about four blocks away.
I got out, started the pump, and then decided to wash my windshield. In the middle of doing that, I felt someone come up behind me. I turned to see an older balding man with a bit of a paunch and a nose that had been broken more than once. He wore a red, white, and blue denim jacket that looked like the Fourth of July had thrown up on it.
“I’m sorry, but do you know how to get to the 405 from here?” He held up his phone, smiling. “Mine died. I forgot my charger, and I’m a little lost.”
Although he appeared friendly and nonthreatening, something about him gave me the creeps, and I was glad we were in a public place. I gave him the quickest directions possible, put the squeegee back in the cleaning solution, and took the nozzle out of my car.
“Thanks,” the man said, and I nodded to him, wanting to get away.
I was just about to get in when I heard him say, “Hey, by the way, haven’t I seen you before? Are you dating someone famous?”
It was such a bizarre (and truth-based) question that at first I didn’t know how to respond. I blurted out, “You have me mistaken for someone else.” Hoping I’d misled him, I got in my car and drove off, going fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit. I kept checking my rearview mirror to make sure he hadn’t followed me.
Despite my paranoia, I wasn’t being tailed. I thought about calling Chase to tell him what had happened, but I had probably overreacted. He was most likely some lost tourist who thought everybody in Los Angeles was either famous or dating someone famous. I was just jumpy because of the alarm earlier.
When I got home, I found Lexi sitting on the couch, watching TV. Her eyes went big when she saw me, and she used the remote to turn the TV off.
“Out all night! Did you let him scale the walls of the Fortress? I am looking for vivid, electrifying details here.”
She knew I wasn’t the kiss-and-tell type, but she kept hope alive. “Still no wall breaches,” I told her. I headed to our room to quickly change before class. She followed me. I set the shopping bag on the bed. “Although I kind of wanted to throw him a grappling hook, because he is the most amazing kisser ever.”
“You don’t have to provide any climbing instruments. Only Superman can get into the Fortress of Solitude. And it sounds like you’ve found him.”
“He is kind of perfect. But I think we may have overused this metaphor.” I kicked off my jeans and looked in my drawers for a clean pair. I realized I was running out of clothes. I desperately needed to do laundry.
“What’s in the bag?” Before I could stop her, she’d pulled out the nightgown. “Did he buy you this? Because if this is his idea of lingerie, I can see why nothing’s happening.”
I grabbed a shirt off a hanger and put it on. “He didn’t want me to be too alluring so he could resist my womanly charms,” I said in a joking tone.
Lexi stayed deadly serious. “Well, this would make sure he had no problem resisting. It’s like man repellent. We should burn this. It’s an affront to nightwear everywhere.”
“No!” I grabbed it out of her hands. This was something I’d always keep, even if Chase and I broke up. I folded it and put it on the top shelf of my closet. “I think he kind of liked it.”
“So what you’re saying is he’s a hopeless romantic. Because he obviously has no hope of being romantic if he actually bought you this. Although, if he didn’t run off screaming when you wore it, I guess that’s good.”
“Sometimes I worry he will. Run away screaming. Because of my celibacy.”
“I’d wager that if you haven’t lost him by now because of it, the odds are pretty good that you won’t.” Lexi lay down on her bed and did something on her phone. “Hey, random question, but do you think Gavin has good abs?”
She flashed her phone at me, but I wasn’t interested in checking out her boyfriend’s chest. “I’ve never seen them and don’t really want to now.”
“I’m trying to decide if his abs are as good as Chase’s.” Her eyes flicked up to one of her posters. “Although Chase’s are probably Photoshopped.”
They were so not. And they were better in real life. But I couldn’t tell her that.
“While you’re figuring out that deep mystery, I’ve got to get to class. See you later.” I grabbed my book bag, took my laptop from the kitchen, and headed out. On my way to school, my phone buzzed.
Chase had sent me a text with a photo. It was a picture of me sleeping.
That made me smile a little. I thought about Lexi saying I needed Superman to break down my walls. Which made me think of Chase and how he didn’t want me to stay in his house without him being there to protect me. How he’d threatened bodily harm if someone hurt me. That he thought of me as his girlfriend.
I didn’t need Superman. I had Captain Sparta.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Although I missed Chase when he was away on his European press tour, it couldn’t have come at a better time. It allowed me to study for and finish my finals so that when he got back, the only thing I’d have to do was find a grown-up job. I still had my fingers crossed that the Foundation would hire me on full-time, but I worried on days like today when everything was so slow that I had nothing to do.
I should have used the time to study, but instead I went through some of the texts and e-mails Chase had sent me while he’d been gone. Like the picture of the back of a minivan with one of those stick families on it.
It reminded me of Chase’s disdain for marriage, something I hoped had started to change, given our last conversation.
Then there was the black-and-white photo he’d taken of himself lying in his hotel bed. To say he was photogenic would be an understatement. He was lying on a bed on fluffy white pillows with an arm behind his head, surrounded by a massive comforter. His shirt was off, and he wore that sly, sexy smirk I loved.
Instead of drooling all over the photo and letting him know I’d only barely retained consciousness after I’d seen it, I texted back:
We talked on the phone when we got the chance. He’d called last night, and I had gone out on our tiny balcony to talk to him.
“What have you learned about this week?” Chase hadn’t had traditional schooling or gone to college, but one of the things I loved about him was that he read about subjects that interested him all the time. He thought it was because his on-set tutors let him choose which things he wanted to study. Sometimes to do research for a movie role, other times because the topic of the book appealed to him.
“In women’s studies I learned men suck.” I had told him many a tale about our discussion topics in that class.
“Present company excluded, of course. I meant other than that.”
I had this ancient–American civilization class to fulfill a world-civ requirement, and we’d ended the semester with a guest lecturer who taught us about the Mayans. I told Chase some of the things the professor had said. “I’m kind of fascinated. I went out and bought the book he brought to class, and I’ve been reading it when I should be studying for other classes.”
“Who is it by?” His voice had a strange quality I didn’t quite recognize.
“Michael D. Coe.”
“Hang on.”
I got an alert that he had sent me a picture. It was of his nightstand. At the top of a pile of books was the very same one I’d been telling him about. It had a different cover but the same title, same author. I was pretty sure I hadn’t tweeted about it or told him about it before. “How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. I was in a used bookstore in Dublin a couple of days ago and came across it. I thought it looked interesting. I guess you and I are on the same wavelength.”
Or it was another one of those signs Chase was always looking for. Although reading the same book at the same time was probably just a coincidence and not a message from the universe saying that Chase and I were meant to be.
“You really should get a tablet. You’re going to strain your back carrying around all those books.”
“It’s okay. I’m strong.” Then
he sent me a picture of himself flexing, and I had to use my notebook to fan my face. He had the best arms. I did think it was adorable that he insisted on reading only paper books because he liked the feel and smell of them. I loved that he read because he enjoyed it and not because some professor forced him to or because he was a random hipster hoping to show up on some girl’s Instagram reading paperbacks in public (and yes, I once went out with a guy like that).
My phone beeped, interrupting my daydreams about Chase’s arms. He had put out a new tweet.
Every time Chase deliberately substituted a Z for an S, it was a special tweet meant just for me.
But it didn’t help my blood pressure when stupid Amelia Swan, who was on the press tour with him, tweeted back:
Grr. Stupid Amelia Swan. Why wouldn’t she leave Chase alone? Were you allowed to punch movie stars? Or was that reserved for politicians and scary clowns?
My grandma always told me not to hate people, so I knew I shouldn’t hate Amelia Swan, but if she were on fire and I had a glass of water, I would drink it.
Things only got worse when Lexi sent me an urgent e-mail with the subject line of “When will this girl get a clue?” telling me I had to look at a link. It led to an article entitled, “Old Flames Reignite!” It had a bunch of pictures of what looked like Chase and Amelia walking down a sidewalk, heads close (and she was wearing a skirt so short I could see her tonsils). There were pictures of them eating at a café. Smiling and laughing. One where she had her hand on his arm.
And then one where they were about to kiss.
With my heart in my throat, I read the article. It talked about how these pictures had been taken in London yesterday on their press tour and said the website’s source revealed, “When they got away from all the cameras, Chase remembered why he fell for Amelia in the first place. They’ve been inseparable and are definitely dating again. It’s serious. They have plans to move in together when they return to the States.”
#Starstruck Page 21
