Page 62 of Chasing Forever

When he opened the bathroom door and saw her, he concluded he hadn’t been the only one thinking about round two. She was sitting up against the headboard, still naked down to her toes—she’d even taken her sandals off. Interesting.

Then she crooked her finger, inviting him to come and join her. Really? Is this my lucky day or what?

He waltzed across the room with confidence, his erection leading the way, and crawled onto the bed. “Again?” he asked, just to be sure.

“If you’re up for it, which it looks like you are.” She glanced down and then gave him a seductive smile.

He lay on his side, propped up on an elbow, and reached out to finger her pretty, dark hair. “You’re blowing my mind right now.”

“How so?” She trailed a fingertip up and down his bare arm. Crazy how the slightest touch from her turned him on.

“You constantly surprise me. First, jumping off the cliff, and now…”

“Yes?” She’d moved her hand to his chest and was drawing tight circles around his nipples. Who knew a man’s nipples could be so sensitive?

“You’re just a lot different in private.”

“Weren’t you the one who said we all show a certain persona to the world that may or may not be the whole story?”

“I think you added the story part.”

“That’s the writer in me. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re an excellent writer.” Uh-oh.

She’d been trailing her finger down his chest, toward his goods, and then she paused. Narrowing her eyes and cocking her head, she said, “How do you know that?”

“I…um…I don’t know for sure. I’m just assuming so.”

She obviously wasn’t buying it. Moving away from him, she sat up against the headboard again, but this time, she covered herself with one of the throw pillows.

Chase sat up too, but he didn’t bother with modesty. Her eyes were locked on his, and he’d already started deflating.

“Callie…”

“How do you know what kind of writer I am, Chase? Has someone you know read my books? Your sister, maybe?”

Damnit! He never should have kept this from her, but it was too late now. He slowly nodded.

“So, you know? You know everything about me, but you never told me? Why?” Her voice was rising with every word, and a vein bulged at the side of her neck. He thought that only happened with men.

He held up a hand. “Hold on. First of all, I don’t know everything about you, but I want to.”

“Why didn’t you just come out and ask?”

“I have, but every time I brought up your writing, you shut me down. It’s almost like you’re embarrassed or ashamed, and I don’t understand why. Most people I know who’ve written books like to shout it from the rafters.”

“I’m not most people,” she hissed.

“I’m learning that.”

“What else have you learned?”

He thought about getting up to get some clothes on but was afraid she’d tell him to keep walking and never come back. It was hard to believe that just a few minutes ago, they’d been wrapped in each other’s arms and he’d been buried deep inside her. Her current posture said she could hardly stand the sight of him. He had to fix this.

Taking a deep breath, he said, “I did a search. There are a lot of other authors named Callie Cooper, by the way.”

She scowled.