Giving Chase (Incendiary Ink #1)

4. Sin on Skin – Chase

Sin on Skin

CHASE

“So," Eliza's voice comes through the phone, crisp and professional. "Where should we start?"

My breath catches in my throat. Five years, and her voice still has the power to stop me in my tracks. I pace the length of my living room, bare feet silent on the polished hardwood, phone pressed to my ear. Outside, the Malibu surf crashes against the shore, a rhythmic counterpoint to my racing heart.

"How about we start with hello?" I say, aiming for lightness but hearing the tension in my own voice. "It's good to hear from you, Eliza."

There's a pause, heavy with unspoken words. I close my eyes, picturing her: the furrow between her brows as she weighs her words, the way she'd twirl a strand of hair around her finger when she was thinking. Does she still do that?

"Hello, Chase," she finally says, her tone softening almost imperceptibly. "I think we should discuss the logistics of the induction ceremony."

Of course. Straight to business. That's Eliza all over. But I can't just ignore the elephant in the room, the five years of silence between us. Five years of regret, of growth, of wondering 'what if?'

"Sure, we can talk logistics," I say, running a hand through my hair – longer now, streaked with silver. "But don't you think we should address the fact that this is the first time we've spoken in five years?"

I hear her sharp intake of breath. "Chase, I don't think-"

"Please, Eliza," I cut in, my voice low and urgent. "I know you want to keep this professional, but we can't just pretend like there isn't a history here."

Another pause, longer this time. I use it to steel myself, to remind myself that I'm not that reckless kid anymore. I'm sober now. Stable. The man she always believed I could be.

"Fine," she says finally, a hint of that familiar fire in her voice. "You want to talk about it? Let's talk. Why haven't you reached out in five years, Chase?"

The question hits me like a physical blow, even though I was expecting it. I sink onto my couch, the leather cool against my skin. My eyes fall on the five-year sobriety chip on my coffee table, a constant reminder of how far I've come – and who I have to thank for it.

"I... I wanted to," I begin, the words feeling inadequate. "God, Eliza, you have no idea how many times I picked up the phone, started to dial your number."

"But you didn't," she says, her voice tight with an emotion I can't quite place. Hurt? Anger? Both? “As a matter of fact, I believe you even blocked my number, which is why I’m calling from this phone.”

"No, I didn't call. And…yes, I did," I admit, the shame of it washing over me anew. "I couldn’t, Eliza. After everything I put you through, everything you did for me... I didn't know how to face you."

I think back to that last day I saw her, when she dropped me off at the final rehab, the way she looked at me – a mixture of hope and resignation that haunts me still. "I thought I was doing the right thing," I continue. "Giving you space, letting you move on with your life without me complicating things."

"That wasn't your decision to make, Chase," Eliza says, her professional facade cracking slightly. "Do you have any idea-" She stops abruptly, and I hear her take a deep breath. "Never mind. It doesn't matter now."

But it does matter. It matters more than anything. "I'm sorry, Eliza," I say, the words feeling wholly inadequate. "I know it's not enough, but I am. I've wanted to tell you that for five years."

There's a long silence, filled only by the sound of our breathing. I find myself holding my breath, waiting.

Finally, she sighs. "I appreciate that, Chase. But it doesn't change anything. We have a job to do now, and we need to focus on that."

I want to argue, to tell her that it changes everything. That I'm not the same man I was five years ago, that I've grown, that I've never stopped thinking about her. That every song I've written since we met, even the ones no one's heard, are all about her. But I know Eliza. I know pushing her now will only make her retreat further.

"Okay," I say, swallowing my disappointment. "You're right. Let's talk about the ceremony."

As Eliza launches into a discussion about schedules and protocols, I listen with half an ear, my mind whirling. Her voice washes over me, bringing back a flood of memories: late-night strategy sessions, heated arguments over creative decisions, quiet moments of understanding when the world became too much.

She might want to keep things strictly professional, but I can't. Not when it comes to her. Not when there's still so much left unsaid between us.

The induction ceremony isn't just about celebrating our music. It's a second chance. A chance to make things right with Eliza, to show her the man I've become. And I'll be damned if I'm going to let it slip away.

As we wrap up the call, I find myself saying, "Eliza, wait."

"Yes?" Her voice is guarded, but I detect a hint of... something. Curiosity? Hope? Maybe I'm just projecting my own hope onto her. It wouldn’t be the first fucking time.

"I just wanted to say... I'm looking forward to seeing you. To working with you again." What I don't say: I've missed you. Every day. In ways I didn't even know were possible.

There's a pause, and when she speaks, her voice is softer than it's been the entire call. "I'm looking forward to it too, Chase. Goodnight."

The line goes dead, but I sit there for a long time, phone still pressed to my ear. Outside, the sun is setting, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold that Eliza would have loved. It's not much, but it's a start. A tiny crack in the wall she's built around herself. And I'm determined to find a way through, no matter how long it takes.

I stand, walking to my music room. My fingers itch to pick up a guitar, to channel these swirling emotions into song. Because some things are worth fighting for. And Eliza Kerr? She's always been worth everything.

As I start to play, a new melody forming under my fingers, I make a silent promise. This time, I won't let fear or cowardice hold me back. This time, I'll show Eliza the man I've become – the man she always saw in me.

This time, I'll get it right.

August 20, 2004

The rooftop bar of the Mondrian is a sea of beautiful people, all here to celebrate us. Incendiary Ink. The next big thing, if the music press is to be believed. Our debut album dropped last week, and it's already climbing the charts faster than anyone expected.

I should be on top of the world. Instead, I'm hiding in a corner, nursing a whiskey and searching the crowd for one face in particular.

Eliza.

She's been keeping her distance since that night in the studio, three months ago. That kiss... God, that kiss . It's been haunting my dreams, making my fingers itch to touch her again. But she's been all business since then – organizing interviews, negotiating deals, smoothing ruffled feathers when Will and Mark inevitably piss someone off. The easy camaraderie we had before, the lingering glances and "accidental" touches... that's all gone.

I get it. I do. What happened between us that night was a mistake. A beautiful, intoxicating mistake that I can't stop thinking about, but a mistake nonetheless. She made that clear the next day, all business-like efficiency as she laid out all the reasons why it couldn't happen again.

I agreed, of course. What else could I do? But that doesn't mean I've stopped wanting her. If anything, the enforced distance has only made my attraction stronger. Every time she walks into a room, it's like all the air gets sucked out. I find myself staring at the curve of her neck, the way her lips move when she talks, the subtle sway of her hips when she walks. It's driving me crazy.

"There you are!" Will's voice booms over the music. He slings an arm around my shoulders, clearly three sheets to the wind. "Dude, why are you hiding? This is our night!"

I paste on a smile. "Just taking it all in, man. It's surreal, you know?"

Will nods sagely, then his eyes light up. "Oh shit, there's that hottie from Rolling Stone. I'm gonna go see if she wants an... exclusive interview." He waggles his eyebrows suggestively before disappearing into the crowd.

I shake my head, chuckling. Same old Will. My amusement fades as I spot a flash of platinum blonde hair across the rooftop. Eliza. She's deep in conversation with some suit – probably from the label – but even from here, I can see the tension in her shoulders.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I'm moving through the crowd towards her. As I get closer, I catch snippets of their conversation.

"...need to get them back in the studio," the suit is saying. "Strike while the iron's hot. We can have another album out by spring."

Eliza's smile is polite, but I can see the steel in her eyes. "With all due respect, Mr. Daniels, I think that would be a mistake. The boys need to tour, build their fanbase, get some real-world experience under their belts. Rushing into a second album could-"

"Ms. Kerr," Daniels cuts her off, his tone patronizing. "I appreciate your... enthusiasm, but perhaps you should leave the big picture decisions to those of us with more experience. The market moves fast these days. We can't afford to wait."

I see Eliza's jaw clench, and something in me snaps. "Actually," I say, stepping up beside her, "I think we should listen to Eliza. She hasn't steered us wrong yet."

Daniels looks at me, surprised. "Chase, I didn't see you there."

"Clearly," I say, flashing him my most charming smile. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I need to borrow my manager for a moment. Band business, you understand."

Without waiting for a response, I guide Eliza away smoothly, my hand on the small of her back. The contact sends sparks shooting up my arm, and I have to resist the urge to pull her closer.

"Thanks for the save," she murmurs as we reach a quieter corner of the rooftop. "But I had it under control."

"I know you did," I say, dropping my hand reluctantly. "I just couldn't stand watching that asshole talk down to you."

Eliza looks at me, really looks at me, for the first time in months. "Chase..."

"I miss you," I blurt out, the words escaping before I can stop them. "I miss us, Eliza. The way we were before... before that kiss."

She closes her eyes, pain flashing across her face. "We can't, Chase. You know we can't. There's too much at stake."

"I know, I know," I say quickly. "I'm not asking for... I don't know what I'm asking for." I run a hand through my hair, frustrated. "I just know that I can't keep pretending there's nothing between us."

Eliza is quiet for a long moment, her eyes searching mine. Then, to my surprise, she grabs my hand. "Come with me," she says, leading me towards the exit.

We end up in her hotel room, the door barely closed before we're kissing again with me holding her against the wall. It's even better than I remembered – hot and desperate and full of months of pent-up desire. My hands roam her body, memorizing every curve, as hers tangle in my hair.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. "We really shouldn't be doing this," Eliza whispers, but she makes no move to pull away.

I rest my forehead against hers, my heart pounding. "Do you want to stop?"

Her eyes meet mine, dark with desire. "No," she breathes, and it's all the invitation I need.

I kiss her again, slower this time, savoring the taste of her. My hands find the zipper of her dress, and I pause, silently asking permission. Eliza nods, and I slowly lower the zipper, revealing smooth, pale skin that I've dreamed about for months.

The dress pools at her feet, and I take a step back, drinking in the sight of her. "God, Eliza," I murmur. "You're beautiful."

A blush creeps across her cheeks, and it's so endearing that I have to kiss her again. Her hands find the buttons of my shirt, deftly undoing them. I shrug it off, then pull her close, reveling in the feeling of skin against skin.

We move towards the bed, a tangle of limbs and heated kisses. I lay her down gently, hovering over her, still hardly believing this is real. "Are you sure?" I ask, needing to hear her say it.

Eliza's hand comes up to cup my cheek. "I'm sure, Chase," she says softly. "I want this. I want you."

Those words ignite something in me, and I capture her lips in a searing kiss. We take our time exploring each other's bodies, hands and lips mapping out new territories. Every sigh, every shiver, every soft moan is etched into my memory.

When we finally come together, it's with a sense of inevitability, like two puzzle pieces clicking into place. We move together in perfect synchronicity, as if we've done this a thousand times before. I lose myself in the feeling of her, in the sound of her breath catching, in the way she says my name like a prayer.

Afterwards, we lie tangled in the sheets, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin. I feel more relaxed, more content than I have in years. But as the afterglow fades, I can sense Eliza withdrawing, see the walls going back up behind her eyes.

"This can't happen again," she says, but there's no conviction in her voice. There’s something in her posture that makes me think she means it, though. It’s as if she’s fighting a war inside herself over me, and I’m losing.

I can’t lose this. Not now.

I prop myself up on an elbow, looking down at her. "What if... what if we made a rule?" The idea forms as I speak. "No strings attached. Just this, when we both want it. No expectations, no complications."

Eliza raises an eyebrow. "No strings attached? You really think we can do that?"

I shrug, trying to sound more confident than I feel. It’s the only thing I could think of off the top of my head to keep her close to me. I don’t want to lose her, and I’ll take whatever I can get at this point. "Why not? We're both adults. We can keep it casual, right?"

She studies me for a long moment, then nods slowly. "Okay. No strings attached. And nobody can know about this. But Chase, the moment it starts to affect the band, or your career-"

"It won't," I promise, sealing it with a soft kiss. "Trust me, Eliza. I've got this under control."

As I pull her close again, a small voice in the back of my mind whispers a warning. One I should probably listen to, but it’s not loud enough to drown out the emotions running through me at the moment. So, I ignore it, too caught up in the intoxicating feeling of having Eliza in my arms.

No strings attached . I can do that. I can totally do that.

Sucker.