Chasing the Dream: Dream Series, Book 3

by Isabelle Peterson

  “I want to make you feel like that… all…” kiss “the…” kiss “time,” kiss, he said, crawling up and planting kisses on my stomach and between my breasts in-between those last words until we were face to face. He slid a hand behind my neck and lifted my head to crush his lips on mine. My hands reached around his back and pulled his weight down on me as I kissed back with as much passion as I felt coming from Chase. He sucked my lower lip into his mouth and chewed on it gently. “You drive me so crazy,” he said, rubbing his nose along my jaw. “Since that first day. You were always so in control of who you were. Even now. And always unbelievably sexy.”

  “You’re the confident one. The sexy one,” I retorted. “You know exactly what you want and you go for it.” I pulled his mouth to mine, sucked in his lower lip as he had done to me.

  I felt his cock, which was resting between my legs, twitch which caused my insides to clench again, or maybe still from that oral orgasm. I bucked my hips gently at him, signaling that I wanted him. A warm smile spread over his face. He reached over to the small bedside table, opened the drawer and pulled out a box of condoms. I should have stopped him there. The fact that he had a big box of condoms should have stopped me cold, but it didn’t. I was impossibly greedy. He wrestled one free and I, ever the impatient one, grabbed at it, ripped the foil open, slid the slippery ring from the square and reached between us. Finding his solid erection, hot and pulsing, I gave a few strokes.

  “Sweets, I’m not gonna last if you do that.” I smirked at him and slowly worked the latex over his shaft, then positioned the head at my entrance. “You are incredible,” he whispered.

  “You make me that way,” I said back. Slowly he sank into me as I wrapped my legs around his hips. I tried to watch his face as he did, his achingly exquisite face. He bit his lip and whimpered. But somewhere along the way, my eyes fluttered closed as he fully seated himself in me. Once fully in, we both breathed a sigh of ecstasy.

  He pulled back slowly, then thrust back in again sharply, forcing me to suck in life saving oxygen. His long, slick thrusts drove me straight to oblivion. With a rhythmic and measured pace, Chase worked us slowly up to the point of no return. That pinnacle of not having a care in the world, only pleasure surrounding you. I felt a peace and excitement. Opening my heavy lids, I looked at Chase watching me. I opened my eyes further and our ‘windows to the soul’ connected with an unrelenting bind. Then, without command, without communication, I came—hard, shuddering, and tears filling my eyes. When he’d felt my arrival, he let go and grunted his release. I dare say that tears reached his eyes as well.

  CHAPTER 22

  After Chase was all primped and outfitted and on set, I took a chair and pulled my phone out of my purse, finally ready to tackle the device that had been buzzing in my bag the entire morning. Sure as shit, there were dozens of Tweets with my handle of @PhoebeFair and the #ChaseSmythesGirl hashtag, as well as a few others like, #ChaseSmythesGirlIsBaaack and #ChaseSmythesGirlRound2. The pics attached were just an hour old from when we got out of the car—Chase kissing my nose and the two of us walking hand in hand. But instead of being humiliated at these photos, my heart swelled. I was Chase Smythe’s Girl. I had no idea how we were going to make this work, but he wanted to make it work. And, surprisingly, so did I. So much for a Single Summer.

  The shoot went smoothly. Chase was making the director pretty damn happy today. I smiled, feeling somehow responsible. In between scenes while the crew was setting up for the next set of takes, Chase would come over and sit with me, not the other actors or fans waiting on the sidelines for autographs and selfies. Finally, the last scene before breaking for dinner was set up. The crew backed away from the set, and I directed my focus on Chase again. The actress he’d been playing opposite, Nicole Brooks playing the character ‘Lauren,’ was now on set with him. She was his love interest for the show and I felt a stupid wave of jealously wash over me. The director chatted with the two then called, “Action!”

  I watched Chase, as ‘Detective Hudson Young’, take a hold of the actress’s hands and I struggled to check the insecurity. This is his job. He’s acting. Nothing to be jealous over. I told myself.

  “It’s all because of you,” he said after a few moments.

  Nicole/Lauren lowered her head. Chase, or Detective Young, placed a finger under her chin and raised her face to look at him.

  “You make me a better person,” he continued. “I’d be no where if it weren’t for you.”

  My heart stopped. I knew these words. These are the same words Chase used with me that night in the car…the night I let him…Oh. My. God!

  “You give me hope. You give me reason,” he leaned in close to Nicole/Lauren.

  My stomach rolled. I felt the bile rise up to my throat. The tip of my nose started stinging and tears filled my eyes. I could barely see though the blur of the water rising.

  “Say you’ll give me a chance. Tell me that you think I’m worthy of a chance.”

  With those words, I bolted out of my seat, knocking the chair over and raced to the trailers. I heard the director call, “Cut!” just as I stopped running long enough to puke my guts out. I didn’t make it to the trailer though and I heard gasps of horror and coos of concern surround me.

  As the heaves turned dry, I was left simply crying. My mind whirled and I was a dizzy mess as I tried to process so much.

  The lines—lines—he’d used to seduce me. Did he do this with other women? All the women? Dana? The PA that came barreling into Valerie’s office that first day? I’d been played in the worst way. God, I was stupid!! The heaves started again.

  Hands rested my shoulders, then the voice. His voice. “Hey, are you okay?” I stood violently, ripping myself from his touch.

  I stepped back from him and pinned him with my embarrassingly teary face. “Get the fuck away from me.”

  “Phoebs. What happened? Are you okay?”

  “I said Get. The. Fuck. Away. From. Me!” I pushed my hands through my hair, catching on the vomit that had hit my locks—left down because Chase liked my hair that way. I looked at my hand disgusted, not just at the puke, but the whole fucked up situation.

  “Sweets,” he hushed, “you’re not feeling well. Come to my trailer. Let’s talk. You could use a shower. There’s one in my trailer. C’mon,” he said, reaching for me.

  “Don’t you dare! I hate you! I can’t believe you did that to me!” I growled through a clenched jaw. I wanted to punch him. I wanted to spit in his face.

  “Did what? What are you talking about?”

  My eyes bugged out. Was he kidding?! “You asshole! You fucking, sonuva—”

  Quickly, Erika, one of the women production assistants came to us. “Hey, let’s take this somewhere private.” She turned me to face her, “It’s okay, I’ll stay with you.” I looked at her like some kind of wild beast. She bobbed her head to the side and behind her. I looked to where she’d directed me. Crowds and paparazzi were all getting an ear, and eye, full of juicy gossip. More than a handful of SmartPhones were trained on me, no doubt collecting the latest Vine Video that would go viral. Then the crowd started to swirl, my ears pounded with my heartbeat. I felt my knees buckle and my world went black.

  If watching her get sick wasn’t scary enough, watching her get mad, so mad that she fainted, was down right terrifying. I caught her easily before she fell, and carried her to my trailer. While I sat and held her hand, her delicate, frail hand, my heart raced with panic for her. She was mad at me, but I couldn’t figure out why. I told her that I wanted a relationship with her. I thought we were starting something. Something real.

  It took some pleading, but I had Erika get me a couple of wet washcloths. First, I cleaned the puke out of her hair. Then I set the second cloth on her forehead. Slowly she came to. Her eyes opening set my heart on fire. Her clear, sky blue peepers shone through her eyelashes. She was going to be fine. At first, when she saw my face, she looked confused, then…her expression grew dark. Then, she slap
ped me—hard!

  Fuck that hurt!

  CHAPTER 23

  “What the hell, Phoebe!” he spat.

  What the hell? What a piece of work! I sat up and looked him square in the face. “You have to be kidding me! You are such a mother-fucking-cock-sucking-sonovabitch! So tell, me Chase,” I said, gritting his name with as much disdain as I could muster. “Do you use lines you’re about to film on all the girls that you’re trying to fuck?”

  I watched his confused face fall with understanding. “Oh, that,” he whispered, and ran his hand through his hair. I really wished he would stop doing that. His hair was one of my biggest weaknesses. I looked around the space. The space we’d been in only hours before. Fucking like crazy rabbits. Hell, the place still smelled like sex. “Look,” he started.

  “No. You look!” I started, pushing wet hair out of my face. What the…? “I am not a toy. I’m not some fangirl. I have a job. And I was doing a good job at it. Now you’ve gone and fucked it all up!”

  “So, this seems… private. I’m just gonna…go. Yeah…” Erika said, slipping out of the trailer.

  Once she closed the door, the silence was oppressive. Chase sat there looking at me. I could practically see the cogs in his head turn. What was he trying to come up with to make anything about this scenario acceptable? Well, no matter what he said, it wouldn’t be enough.

  “The man with the gift for gab is silenced, huh? Fascinating,” I huffed. Had I really shut him up? Had no one called him out on this before? Or was he just looking for a line from another show or movie he’d filmed?

  “You want the truth?”

  “As if I’ll believe a word coming out of your mouth,” I said. And looking at his mouth, his full lower lip, I felt my body betray me with a tingling of want and need.

  “Okay, true…” he croaked. “What I said the other night was from the new pages you handed me,” he paused. A look of total guilt blanketed him right down to his hands, which now scraped at imaginary dirt under his nails. “Not like you’ll believe me… but when I read the—”

  A knock on the trailer door interrupted Chase’s uncomfortable confession. Shit. I got some sort of sick little joy watching him squirm.

  “Paramedics,” I heard from the other side of the door.

  “Good idea!” Chase said, jumping up from his seat to open the door.

  In walked Erika with an overweight, middle-aged guy wearing an EMT jacket, carrying a small orange toolbox with a red plus on it and the word EMERGENCY KIT.

  “Miss Fairchild?” he asked me, his warm eyes looking me over. His gaze was pulled away as Chase sat back next to me and picked up my hand.

  I gritted my teeth and pulled my hand from him. “Yes, I’m Phoebe. But I don’t need any medical attention.”

  “My name is Marc, and sorry, Miss, but it’s required when someone passes out on set.”

  “Liability insurance, and all,” Erika finished.

  “Sir, if I may?” the paramedic said, asking Chase to move with a nod of his head.

  Begrudgingly, Chase got up and stepped back. The paramedic took his seat and lifted my wrist searching for my pulse, and watching his wristwatch. He nodded, then opened his toolbox and pulled out a blood pressure cuff. He placed the cuff around my upper arm and did what he had to do.

  “Well, your pulse is a bit more rapid than I’d like, and your blood pressure is fairly high,” he started.

  “Sorry, but I’m a little pissed off at someone right now,” I said shooting a look at Chase, who had the decency to look guilty.

  “Do you have a history of fainting?”

  “No,” I sighed.

  “Are you pregnant?”

  “What are you insinuating?” I shot at the poor medic, panic washing over me. Was I pregnant? No. No, I couldn’t be.

  “Just routine questions, Miss,” he shrugged. “What have you had to eat today?”

  I sighed wishing this embarrassing moment would just be over. “Admittedly, I had a crappy lunch. Just a few chocolate chip cookies.”

  “And for breakfast?” he pressed.

  I groaned sheepishly. “A slice of chocolate cake?” The paramedic looked at me with a look that said, Are you kidding? “Look, I’m PMSing, okay?” That was certainly believable with my day’s diet. Of course! Just PMSing big time! “Any more embarrassing questions?” I asked, praying that he was finished.

  Chase stepped forward. “Look, I was an ass to Phoebe today… and Friday. I made a colossal mistake with this amazing woman. I should have spoken from my heart, but I didn’t trust my heart to say the right things.” That last comment changed the energy in the entire space. My body started to vibrate and my head grew a little dizzy again. He licked his lips and his eyes searched my face, hope and shame plainly evident on his. “And clearly she needs a good meal. I’ll make sure I fix things with her,” he said to Erika, then turned to the paramedic, “And I’ll make sure she’s properly fed.”

  The paramedic jotted down a few notes on his clipboard and had me sign off on his evaluation. He left the crowded little room leaving Erika, Chase, and me.

  Erika looked over at Chase and me. “You two okay?” she asked.

  “Erika, I just need a few minutes with Phoebe. Okay? I promise. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  She looked at me, making sure I was okay with Chase’s request. I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Fine,” I conceded.

  Erika left quietly leaving just Chase and me. As small as the space felt when it was full of people: the paramedic, Erika, Chase and me, it felt much smaller now that it was just the two of us. It wasn’t Chase’s confidence filling the space this time. It was his shame, and my anger.

  “You don’t get to talk your way out of this Chase,” I started. “I can’t believe you would use lines from a show to seduce me. I will never believe another word you say.”

  “Phoebe,” he whispered, squatting low in front of me and taking my hands in his. His touch had me so confused. It made me want him so fiercely, yet I was mad at him—and rightly so.

  “Excuse me, I’m going to the ladies,” I said getting up and stomping across the room to a door I hoped was a bathroom. Once inside I silently prayed that my period had finally arrived. As I thought about the past twenty minutes I was totally convinced that I was pre-menstrual. Chocolate for breakfast and lunch—Check. Wild mood swings, and highly emotional—check. All that was missing was last piece to the puzzle. “The Painters”. Unfortunately, I received another disappointment that I was still coming up dry.

  As I sat in the tiny trailer bathroom and looked at all of Chase’s personal things: his soap, his toothbrush, a bathrobe, I got thoroughly pissed at myself for falling for him. I knew going in that I was going to get hurt. I’d made a pact with myself to not even get involved with anyone, let alone someone I worked with or for, but somehow rationalized the one-night stand with Chase. How stupid could I have been?

  I washed up and put my thoughts in order. I had a job. I was going to finish my job. Chase was leaving on Friday and I would be back to working in the office with Valerie. I never should have let myself get swept into his game. He was a jerk, a player. I was the object of his game. I had no doubt that he’d been busted, now he was going to be a weasel to save face, to hell with my feelings.

  When I returned to the small living space of the trailer, Chase was standing by the dining table with the dinner I had ordered for him all served up. Originally, I’d ordered a crappy sub sandwich from a chain “restaurant” but after our incredible trailer fuck, I’d gotten nostalgic and ordered one of his favorite dinners: Filet mignon, medium, with onion rings and a side of vegetables.

  “Delivery from Ed Scott’s,” he said, half smirking “Come. Sit. You need to eat this. I promised that I’d get you fed properly.”

  “I ordered that for you.” I said, totally pissed at myself. I just shrugged back.

  “I appreciate that, but you need it more than me. It’s not up for negotiation.”

  The
steak smelled heavenly, and I realized how truly hungry I was. Even though medium wasn’t my fancy, nor were onion rings, I went and sat at the table where Chase stood offering me a chair. I took the seat and Chase hopped over to his small fridge and pulled out a bottle of ice cold water and offered it to me. “It’s not Diet Coke, but water is probably better for you right now than that other stuff.”

  Stunned that he remembered that I like Diet Coke, I simply said, “It’s fine. Thank you.” He smiled, twisted off the cap, and handed me the water.

  I started to eat, as Chase sat across from me, looking on. The steak was delicious, as always, even if it was cooked more than I preferred. And I had to admit, the onion rings tasted fantastic. I offered Chase half, but he refused.

  As I was about half done, Chase asked, “Was I right about the onion rings?”

  I nodded and finished my bite. “Thank you for giving me your dinner, and it was delicious, but this doesn’t let you off the hook. You’re still a jerk. Friday you go back to L.A. and you won’t have to think about me ever again. I’ll finish this week because—”

  “You think I’ll never think of you again?” he interrupted. “You’re all I think about,” he said. I simply stared at him not believing a word. Never again, I told myself. But the look on his face was dead serious. “Those ‘lines’ from the scene, when I said them to you, weren’t just lines. They took on a whole new meaning. I suck at love scenes. It’s the thing critics bash about me the most. But reading those lines, and delivering them to you, allowed me to tap into true emotion. Something totally new and—”

  Suddenly, Chase’s phone rang in his pocket. I wouldn’t have thought much about it, but his face went white as a ghost when he heard the ring tone. “Hold that thought,” he told me, then took the call and walked to the other side of the trailer, five feet away, like that was any more private.

  “Yeah, Brock. How is she?” he answered, clearly knowing who was calling and for what. After a moment he continued, “I’m coming down tonight, I’ll be there in the morning…I don’t really care what she said. I want to be there. Would you get one of my cars to the airport?…I don’t care, any one…Sure, sounds good. I’m calling Michael now… I know, thanks man. See you tomorrow.” And he ended the call, and took a heavy sigh. I watched as he ran his hand through his hair and gripped tightly. Next he crouched down into a ball and took a few deep breaths. Chase had talked to the same guy, Brock, last week when he got all quiet and weird.