Chasing the Dream: Dream Series, Book 3 (39 page)

Charlie knelt in front of me and took both of my hands in his. “Sweets, I’m as serious as I’ve ever been about anything. For once, I feel like my focus has purpose. And I like it.” His comment was all southern drawl.
True Charlie.
He kissed the back of my hands. “So, what do ya say? Wanna go look at some places with me?”

“Actually, Jenny is on her way over…so…” Charlie’s face dropped. “But she won’t be here for about fifteen minutes,” I said, scooting to the front edge of the sofa, closer to the gorgeous man kneeling between my legs.

Charlie perked up immediately. “Really? And what to you propose we do in that short span of time?”

My eyes glanced at the bedroom door. Charlie glanced over his shoulder, and cocked an eyebrow at me. I shrugged and rolled my eyes. “But only if you wanna,” I said, feigning disinterest.

Swiftly, Charlie stood and scooped me off of the sofa and raced us to the bedroom.

He set me on my feet and his hands gripped the hem of my shirt. In a swift motion, the shirt was ripped off of me and the soft plop of my shirt hitting the floor was barely audible over the pounding of my heart. Next, his hands busied themselves at the front of my jeans and were moving them down over my hips and legs. I helped him shimmy them down to my ankles and I kicked them aside.

He stood back to take in the view, adjusting us so that I was standing in the beam of sunlight that shone through the window. Suddenly his appraisal was making me self-conscious and I moved to cover myself, but Charlie halted my arms. The fact that I wasn’t supermodel, or standard actress thin, never far from my mind. In the past his gaze had been hungry, and never lasted long because we were usually on each other, like white on rice. This moment, he took his sweet, Georgia time. It was like he was taking possession. His eyes made it back to mine and the violet-blue windows to his soul were clear and peaceful.

I looked down at his fully dressed body and raised my brow. He smiled warmly and chuckled quietly. He started to reach behind his head to pull his shirt over his head, but I stopped him. His body was in the “shadows,” and that just wouldn’t do, so I moved us so that now
he
was the one in the ‘spotlight.’ He grinned and my heart nearly exploded. He started to do a beat-boxing with his mouth, a rendition of stripper music, then slowly pulled the hem of his shirt up. I flopped on the bed, and got comfy watching him.

He pulled his shirt up, just on the left side, his hips gyrating, flexing his abs. He worked it hard and gave everything he had with his little dance. Revealing his abs, then chest. Rolling his hips he took off his jeans and kicked ’em aside revealing that he was wearing a pair of Calvin Klein tighty-whities. I gulped as I took in his rock hard cock straining against the tight cloth. Then he turned his back to me. His strong, muscular, broad-shouldered back was a work of art. He shook his ass at me, and shot me an over the shoulder look, aiming for a smoldering look that started the giggles in me. In one swift move, he slid his briefs down and stepped out of them. As he flexed his butt cheeks at me, he spun his Calvin Kleins on his finger then released ’em. It was an unfortunate release, though, and he nearly knocked a lamp off the dresser. He quickly ran over and caught the lamp and Calvin Kleins before they crashed to the floor.

I covered my mouth to prevent myself from laughing. Charlie quickly pushed me down on the bed and kissed me hard to swallow that laugh. “It’s not nice to laugh at the talent…” he laughed against my teeth.

I continued to attempt to repress my giggle fit, but I was unsuccessful. Charlie, however, knew just what to do. His lips moved down my jaw and neck, sucking on that small hollow at the base of my neck. Mission accomplished. Giggle fit over.

He moved lower to my right and raked his teeth over my lace covered nipple. I groaned, and he decided he wanted more. He pulled the lace over my breast, and took as much of it in his mouth as he could and swirled his tongue around my throbbing nipple, his hand gripping my left breast and freeing that one, too. He pinched my nipple gently between his fingers, releasing a firestorm in my belly.

I reached down between us and gripped his silky shaft, marveling at how something could be so hard yet so soft. Slowly, I stroked him as he worked me into a frenzy with my breasts alone.

“God, you make me crazy!” he breathed, sliding one hand down between my legs. He dipped a finger in and then dragged it back and over my throbbing clit.

“Oh, shit,” I blurted. “I don’t have any condoms.” We’d both agreed that Charlie need to get tested before we had unprotected sex with as many girls as he’d been with. And with Dickwad’s history, we felt that I needed to get tested as well.

He pulled back and half grinned at me. “Be right back,” and he ran to the living room. I heard the rustling of his duffle bag. And he was back with a strip of condoms. “How much time did you say we have?”

T
wenty minutes later, I was sweeping my hair into a messy bun on top of my head.

“But I like your hair down,” Charlie whined, sliding up behind me, still shirtless.

“I know, but you won’t be here, and Jenny is on her way over.”

“Hmmm,” he said, kissing the nape of my neck. “Maybe I like your hair up better…”

“I think you like me no matter what I do with my hair,” I teased.

“I think you’re right,” he groaned, not releasing me.

The intercom phone buzzed, and I peeled myself away to go answer it. Jenny was here and I told Gilbert she could come up. I checked my cellphone while I was there, too. The badge on the Twitter app showed that there were more than fifty tags.

Shit!

I knew Valerie and Michael had seen those paparazzi photos from the airport, but I must have been tagged in them again. Opening the app, my suspicion was solidly confirmed. @PhoebeFair was trending.

Double Shit!

I walked back into the bedroom expecting to find a dressed Charlie, instead I found him rummaging through my underwear drawer, and a tiny black dress laying on my bed.

I cleared my throat to alert him of my presence. “Looking for something?”

“No. I found what I wanted.” He held up a black lacey thong. “Wear this later, with that dress, okay? I want to take you out to dinner.”

“You are something else,” I said shaking my head at him.

He grinned back, and replied, “I know. And you like me no matter what.” Then he charged me, swept me into his arms and pressed me against the wall, kissing me like it was his last day on earth.

“But, can we stay in tonight? I don’t really want to go out.” That’s all I needed were more paparazzi photos. I seriously needed to double think this being-Chase-Smythe’s-girlfriend thing. “I’ll cook. Whatever you want. Stir-fry. Pasta. Burgers…”

Charlie silenced me with a kiss. “Whatever I want, huh? Oh, Sweets, that’s a loaded proposition.” His kisses lowered and were tickling my neck hopelessly and making me weak in the knees.

There was a knock on the door, and then I heard Jenny say, “Hello?” from the living room. “Phoebe?”

“Hi, Jenny,” I called back, trying to push Charlie off of me. “Okay, you can let go now,” I whispered to Charlie. “Now go find your shirt.”

He just shook his head and kissed me again, this time that soft spot on my neck that drove me insane.

“Oh, hey, hi,” Jenny said, catching Charlie in the act.

“You must be Jenny,” Charlie said, barely tearing himself from my neck, and letting me wriggle free.

“Yes, and you must be Chase. It’s nice to finally meet you,” she grinned, taking in his impressive bare chest and arms.

“I am,” he smiled, that paparazzi smile.

When Charlie’s back was turned to Jenny, she mouthed ‘Oh! My! God!’ to me.

“Go put a shirt on,” I said pushing him into the bedroom.

“Oh. My. Gawd!” Jenny shouted in a whisper as I came into the living room and closed the bedroom door behind me. “You
are
dating Chase! And a bit more, it seems.”

“Shhh…” I whispered, glancing back at the bedroom door as I felt my face grow hot. I knew I must have been beet red. “Can I get you water or something?” I offered, trying to change the subject, at least until Charlie was out of the apartment. I was really looking forward to talking to a friend about all the crazy in my life.

“Sure. Thanks.” Just then, Charlie came out of the bedroom looking mouthwateringly hot in a black, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, faded jeans and his Doc Martins.

“Okay, Sweets, I’m outta here.” Charlie swooped me into his arms, ignoring Jenny completely, and kissing me deeply. I was somewhere between breathless and mortified. Charlie hadn’t been much into public displays of affection in Georgia. Granted we were on our own most of the time.

“I’ll be back around five?” he said, no trace of Georgia in his accent. I couldn’t help but wondering, are we heading back to Cocky Chase?

“Sounds good,” I said, swallowing my embarrassment and desire.

Charlie then headed over to Jenny. He kissed her cheek and said, “Nice to meet you, Jenny. Have a nice chat.” Then he was gone. Suddenly, I felt hopelessly alone. I know Jenny was there, but somehow, Charlie had become my other half.

I plopped down on the sofa and invited Jenny to sit. I asked how things were going with Ankur and the wedding plans. She admitted that she was pretty much out of the loop at this point, her mother and future mother-in-law having taken over, and supposedly letting Jenny sit back and be pampered. But Jenny wanted some American elements worked into the ceremonies and was getting pushback from both sides.

“In the end, I guess it really doesn’t matter,” she said. “So, I’m sure you didn’t call me over to hear me blather on about my wedding plans. You sounded anxious.”

“Oh, did I?”

“Yeah, you did,” she said sheepishly. “Is it Chase?”

“Not exactly, no.” How do I cut to the chase and say,
I’m pregnant and I need an obstetrician.
I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing, nerves taking over. Suddenly, I was sorta wishing I hadn’t called Jenny. I should have just eeny-meeny-miny-moed the names that I looked up. “Sorry. No. Chase is great. Well, I could do without the photographers here in New York.”

“It’s amazing how fast their pics hit Twitter and social media. But you’re living every girl’s dream. You know that, right? I mean, it’s Chase Smythe. Or should I say, Choebe.”

“Huh?”

“Your
portmanteau
name.”

“My what?”

“Well, you and Chase. Maybe you know it as a ‘shipping’ name. Your names blended together. Like Bennifer. And TomKat. Brangelina. On Twitter… that’s your hashtag.” She flipped open her phone and the Twitter app. She entered in #Choebe, and it was one of the number one trending hashtags. “I was partial to PhoeChay, but Choebe took off instead,” she shrugged and smiled.

I paged through the dozens of Twitter updates with the hashtag and was dumbfounded. We were far from a super-couple, something the ‘shipped’ names were usually meant for. Why the public felt the need to mesh our names, I couldn’t imagine. It was better than being #ChaseSmythesGirl, I guessed. I chuckled when I realized that if people knew Chase’s real name was Charlie, we’d probably be Charbe. Feeling confused about my new ‘celebrity,’ I handed her phone back to her.

“So, come on. What’s bothering you hon. I promise I won’t judge, and I’ll help in any way I can.” Her warm brown eyes focused on me, and she took my hand.

I took a deep breath, to fight off the pending tears. Saying this again wasn’t getting easier. It was just getting harder. “I need a doctor recommendation.”

A look of concern blanketed Jenny’s face. “Oh, sure. Are you not feeling well? Is there something you’re concerned about? What kind of doctor? Or just a regular check up kind of thing?”

“Um, an O.B.?”

“Oh a gynecologist. Sure, I love mine. She’s great. Needing a pill refill? Or looking to get on the pill? You don’t think you have an STD, do you? Sorry, I didn’t ask that. I’ll shut up now,” she said burying her nose in her phone, I think looking for her doctor’s phone number.

“Well, it’s a little late for the pill.” Maybe if I hinted enough, I wouldn’t have to say the words. I waited for what I’d said to sink in. She looked up at me, and I watched her chew on my words. As realization hit her, the tears I’d been working on keeping back, spilled.

“Oh, honey,” she whispered, pulling me in for a hug. “Are you sure? I mean you’ve been under a lot of stress. I mean, you’ve had
a lot
going on this past month with the move, and the job, and…”

I wrapped my arms around her, grateful for her friendly embrace. “I took a home test, and…”

“Okay, well, it’s not the end of the world. We can get through this. How late are you? Whose is it? Not that cad of an ex with the two girls in your dorm?” I couldn’t even reply. It was all so humiliating. And she was being so great. “Shhh,” she soothed.

When I got my sobbing under control, she went to the bathroom and came back with a box of tissues. I took care of my eyes and nose, and tried to ‘grow up.’ I took a few cleansing breaths. And went back to when my last known cycle was. And she calculated, as I had, that I’d probably gotten pregnant in April.
Stupid college parties with too much drinking and ridiculous party favors
.