Blurred Lines 1: CHASE
Chapter 38

-Sofia-

Something definitely feels different the following morning as I open my eyes. Would anyone notice the difference in me? I'm not sure, but I can't lie to myself. Last night, I thought I could sleep with Chase, get him out of my system and be on with my life like nothing happened. A fool's thought. Stupid, dummy Sofia Collins.

I loved Chase, mourned losing him, and never really got the closure I needed then. Reconnecting with him brought back the memories I had buried long ago. Chase will always have a part of my heart. Why did I even think that this would solve anything in the first place?

Everything I shared with him before has been memories only see from time to time. Blurry. Like images behind frosted glass. After last night, all of them are as clear as yesterday's memory. From the moment I met him to the guitar lessons he gave me and the late- night conversation we had.

I never truly loved anyone as much as I loved Chase.

I look over at Chase sleeping next to me with his tousled hair and swollen lips. I can't comprehend the full consequences of what happened last night.

'What am I gonna do now? Should I pretend like this is just another casual thing for me? I don't even do casual. The even bigger question is, what is this to Chase?" "Sunshine," he grumbles. His voice is gravelly like it should be at this time of the day. "Perving?"

I make a pff sound. "Dream on."

He grabs my waist, his fingers digging into my bare skin. The white sheet covering our bodies moves as he draws me closer to him. Fire kindles where our skin connects. Tangled, our bodies are as close as they could ever be. He was hard against my thigh.

"Little liar," he says, burying his face in the crook of my neck. "I wouldn't mind if you were. I am all yours." His words leave me breathless. Some sentences are incomplete if you are not reading this novel on FindNovel.net. Visit FindNovel.net to read the complete chapters for free. How I wish they were true. For years, I've pinned on him to be mine and dreamed of our happily ever after until I lost him. I moved on with my life, and somehow, I've forgotten about him, what I felt for him...... until now.

"Is this okay?" he asks, his fingertips skimming the small humps of my spine.

"Hm?" I crane my neck, an offering.

"I want you again." He cups my butt cheek, squeezing as he pulls me closer. His c**k jerks against my thigh, agreeing with his statement.

I roll over, landing on top of him as our eyes lock. His eyes, so dark and filled with sinful promises, knock the air out of my lungs. All inhibitions I have melted like candle wax and molded to lust and desire.

How can I fight the urge to give in to him anymore when I have a taste of him, of what he could do... of how wonderful he can make me feel? Chase is a devoted lover, a trait hard to find in a partner. Last night, after the kitchen, we had another go in my bed. He asks for permission, what feels good, how I want him to take me. And he made sure I came multiple times before he did.

I couldn't answer him with words. My throat is thick with emotions, so I just kiss him, drawing my knees until my core is directly above his hard-on. I rub myself on him, ensuring he knows how ready I already am for him.

Chase groans, cupping the back of my head and deepening the kiss. We spent the rest of the morning in bed, ravishing each other's bodies until we couldn't ignore hunger anymore.

Sunday is supposed to be a shopping day. But because of last night's storm, the market, groceries, and shopping malls are closed. The city didn't gain much impact from the storm, but the coastal areas were devastated.

Chase is on his phone, wearing only his jeans barefoot. The television is on low volume, News flash after news flash of families displaced from their homes, damage in agriculture, and affected properties played on the local news channel.

1 keep mixing the batter for the pancake. Chase and I are both starving, and this is the quickest meal I could whip, preheating leftovers of last night's filet mignon.

"...no Candice. No media," I overhear Chase. He sounds annoyed. Candice is the manager of the Montiero Foundation. I met her at the fundraiser, a sweet woman in her late thirties. I wonder why Chase sounds agitated, though. "You know the drill. No buts, no ifs." Chase ended the call, pinching the bridge of his nose. After mixing the batter, I turn the stove dial and grease the pan with olive oil.

"Coffee?" Chase offers, reaching into the cupboard for two mugs.

"I would never say no to coffee," I cajoled, offering him a toothy grin.

Chase chuckles and takes the coffee pot, filling both mugs. In my peripheral, I watch as he pours milk on one and one sugar. He still remembers how I like my coffee at home. I bite down a smile.

He hands it to me after I pour a portion of the batter onto the pan, waiting for the bubbles to form. Leaning his hip on the counter, he watches the news with eagle eyes.

"Is everything okay with the foundation?" I ask, sipping my coffee.

Chase nods. "Candice wants me to show up in one of the relief operations."

"Oh..." I nip my bottom lip.

"She knew I hated going in those relief operations," he grumbles. "The media swarmed me like a plague and forgot what the relief was all about."

I know all about his dilemma with those relief operations Chase wants to help, so he's doing it behind the scenes.

"And Candice keeps pushing," he says bitterly.

"Uhm... it's because I told her to ask you, Chase. It's not her fault."

He tilts his head in my direction. "It's part of your image rehabilitation. The public needs to know how hands-on you are with the foundation and how passionate you are about helping people in need."

He considers my words and shakes his head. "Still a no, Sofia. There are other ways to change my image. Let's leave the foundation out of it."

I flip the pancake, mulling on his words. The way he keeps narrowed eyes watching the news tells me he wants to be on the frontline. I also understand his inhibitions about the media. Whatever this is between Chase and me is already affecting my job. If last night didn't happen, I would've pushed him to get to the relief operation, call a few of his top fans and let them spread the news online instead of calling the media. But right now, I admire Chase's stance on preserving the foundation's goal of helping people, not for his personal gain.

Georgia will be so mad at me for doing what my client wants rather than what I should do as his publicist..