Blindsided (10 page)

Her humor disappeared when she realized her exhaustion was noticeable to others. Great. Chelsea let out a sigh of her own, then clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle it. She hadn’t intended for her rest break to become a fling and certainly hadn’t intended to drag this poor man into her problems. A man who had hero issues, apparently. She was the wrong one for that particular neurosis. Not only wasn’t she a damsel in distress, but she had problems no man could fix.

“No, I’m not sure it’ll go that far, Maddy. Really. Because she’s too good for me,” Nate said, his voice sad.

Chelsea let her back slide down the wall and dropped on her butt. She just couldn’t hold herself up anymore. Her little tirade about bad boys had affected Nate more than she had intended. Worse, she had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t even true. If anyone in this whole messed up situation wasn’t good enough for the other, it was her, not him. She ran around the world, doing her own share of heartbreaking, being selfish when it suited her. Bad boy or not, when she left, she would be doing him a favor. She would hold onto that idea when it was time to tear herself away from him. Maybe it would make it easier.

###

Nate’s garage looked like a spread in Bad Boys Weekly. A classic black Mustang that looked like it ate sedans for lunch sat next to a flame licked Harley. The chrome shone brightly on both, twinkling enticingly. Ah, Chelsea thought, the allure of a bad boy’s vehicles. Deadly.

“Bike or car?” he asked.

If she was getting the bad boys out of her system, she might as well go whole hog. Pun intended.

“Bike,” she said, even though she could feel the cord around her throat begin to tighten. She wanted everything that was Nate, but couldn’t let herself have it. That road led places she didn’t want to see again.

Nate wheeled the bike out and they climbed on. Nate stood on the starter and fell on it with his weight, his body moving gracefully. The bike roared to life between her legs and Chelsea wrapped her arms around Nate as they left the driveway with a spray of gravel.

Chelsea rode clinging to Nate’s hard torso as they twisted down back roads. Leaves kicked up under the tires, flying out behind them in swirls before settling back to the tarmac.
Chelsea buried her head deeper into Nate’s back, loving the warm scent of him, the sheer masculinity of his muscles under the softened leather. He was hardness everywhere, everywhere she touched was taut and lean and the epitome of the human male.

Riding the bike was freedom and for a short time, she was able to forget all her problems and just enjoy the scenery flowing by her. Idly, she wondered if she could learn to ride and tie it into a story somehow, sell it to a magazine for motorcycle enthusiasts, or a women’s magazine. She had never tried to sell anything but travel writing, but she could expand her horizons, not be on the road so much. Chelsea tightened her grip on Nate’s torso, briefly indulging in a fantasy in which she and Nate had some kind of functional relationship. The cord tightened another notch and she pushed the image away.

###

When Nate disappeared under the hood, Chelsea tried to make sense of her emotions. She called Tony, got no answer. After telling him she was fine, and she’d be back later that afternoon, she found herself at a loss. Being near Nate when she was trying desperately to work herself up to leave him seemed like a bad idea, but he pulled her like a magnet. Looking out the window, she saw him leaning over Bunny, his ass outlined in his tight jeans. There was no way she could stay away. She’d go out and hand him tools, like she used to for Tony.

A few hours later, after some curses and some bored wandering on Chelsea’s part, Nate stood up and wiped his hands on a rag before slamming the hood. Not only had he replaced her head gasket, but he had insisted on replacing some of the deteriorating belts and hoses as well, claiming the would only lead to another breakdown in a week.

Chelsea was distracted by the image of his dirty hands, strong and sinewy. Dirty because he was fixing her car, doing her a favor. Shit. She was so screwed. The last few hours had done nothing to calm her confused mind. She needed some space, some time apart from Nate’s charisma, but she didn’t want it.

“All set, sweetheart,” Nate said, “Start her up.”

Chelsea shook herself out of her hand admiring reverie and got into the car. Nate stood in the crook of the door, one long, tattooed arm thrown casually over it. God, it was hard to think with him around. His scent, his body, all of it added up to a tall package of distraction. With vigor more suitable for demolition work than turning the key in a 20 year old Rabbit, Chelsea started the engine, Pink Floyd blasting out of the tinny, paper speakers. With a jump, she turned it down to an acceptable level.

Nate nodded in approval at the engine, then made a face.

“What?” she said.

“You listen to Pink Floyd?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” she said defensively, “What’s wrong with Pink Floyd?”

“They’re, well, crusty. And overplayed. And way overrated. And this song came out before you were born.”

“Well, I listen to Mozart too,” she said with a grin.

She could fell herself growing flirtatious with him despite her best intentions of creating emotional distance. Instead of creating this distance, she stood and lined up her body with his, wrapping her arms around him, relishing his size. One last time.

“Are you saying you’re not overplayed and overrated, Mr. Rock Star?”

Nate grinned and wrapped his arms around hers and her whole body, instantly engulfing her in him. God, why did they have to fit so well? Her body was responding to his, getting soft and pliant to counteract his taut hardness.

“I never said I wasn’t overrated, babe,” he said.

He slanted his mouth over hers and gave her a kiss that could never be called overrated. Without removing his lips from hers, he picked her up, folding her legs around his hips, and carried her into the house.

“I need to take a shower or I’m going to get you all greasy,” he said as he set her down on the bed.

“No, it’s fine,” she said, gripping his arms and trying to tug him down on top of her.

Greasy, dirty, grimy, she didn’t care. He could be coated in crude oil and she wouldn’t care. She just didn’t want him to stop kissing her, didn’t want this to end. When it ended, she would leave and she wanted to make the most of their time left. She didn’t want time to think, or to grow more attached. Pure, physical lust was all she could handle.

She ran her hands over his skin as if she was receiving oxygen through her fingertips. His nipple tightened as she licked it lightly with the tip of her tongue. She wasn’t even sure this level of need was fun. Her heart beat painfully fast and she thought she would die if their skin parted.

“We’ll see,” Nate said, his mood darkening somewhat.

Chelsea couldn’t respond. She had been reduced to one big ball of need and heat. Nate said no more about the subject, simply picking her back up and carrying her into the shower.

He adjusted the water until it was almost too hot, but not quite. The intensity against her already sensitive skin was almost more than she could take. Leaning against the tile wall while the water ran over her, she felt Nate’s mouth on her nipple, one hand wandering over her body. He gripped her ass hard, pulling her towards him. His erection prodded against her clitoris, making her gasp.

He roughly kissed her neck, his stubble lightly scratching her skin. Winding her fingers into the hair at the back of his head, Chelsea held herself up. She was so close to coming now, she thought she’d die if he didn’t take her now.

Rather than doing as she wished, he moved his hand from her ass, sliding it down until he reached her wet folds. Toying with her slick flesh, he kissed her possessively before sliding his finger into her. Her muscles contracted as a small explosion took her and she groaned, the sound amplified by the small tiled space. She opened her eyes and stared up at Nate.

His breathing was heavy and his eyes were nearly closed. Gone was the look of tenderness and kindness she had grown used to. He looked every bit the dangerous bad boy now, his features darkened by his thoughts. She knew her insistence that she would be leaving were driving his dark mood, but her body was enjoying the roughness too much to care. When he looked like this, it was easy to see him as just a street hood. It was everything she could have wanted. One last fling with him, and an easier emotional burden, all in one.

She didn’t get a chance to thank him for easing her confusion. He turned her around and entered her swiftly from behind, knocking her forward slightly. She cried out as she felt the full length of him enter her. It was so much deeper at this angle, his penis hitting spots inside she didn’t know existed. Nate’s hands ran over her wet body until one hand found her clitoris and started an assault on that front as well.

Suddenly scared by the enormity of what she was feeling, Chelsea leaned back to Nate for comfort. As the unstoppable wave of her orgasm hit her and took her under, she realized too late that when she leaned against him, he held her tenderly and in that moment, she felt safe.

Chapter 6

“So, I guess I’ll go now,” Chelsea said.

She stood at the end of the bed, staring out the window at the afternoon sun. This time it had been Nate’s turn to fall asleep in a sex induced stupor. When he woke up, it was to the image of Chelsea putting her shirt on. That alone saddened him. This morning she had worn one of his undershirts, looking damn cute with the flimsy material clinging to her body. He had liked it. It made him feel proprietary, which he had no right to feel. He knew that, but he had liked feeling it anyway. Her wearing his shirt made him feel like she was his and now she was back in her own.

“You’re going?” he asked.

He tried to keep his tone casual. His hurt would come across as anger, would slowly turn into the real thing. Any glimmer of hope he had left would be extinguished by his anger. It had been driving things away from him most of his life. Maybe it was time for that to stop, even if that alone wasn’t enough to keep her with him.

“Yes,” Chelsea said on a shaky exhale, “That was the deal we made. I could leave. I told you I would. And now, I need to go.”

Hell, no. Nate got out of bed and threw on his jeans that still lay rumpled on the floor. He knew he’d turned into an animal in the shower, but he’d been so desperate to hold on to her, all he could think of was driving her beyond her comfort zone, into something she’d never known. If her inability to move afterward was any indication, he’d succeeded. But it wasn’t enough.

“Chelsea,” he said more sharply than he meant to.

She turned and straightened up to face him. Luckily, she held up a hand to stop the angry explosion he felt nearly escaping.

“Nate, I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you wanted. But this was your idea. I’m choosing this option. Just like I told you I would.” Her voice had an edge too. He wasn’t the only one here with an anger problem.

“I know it’s what I said,” Nate said. He ran his hand through his hair, utterly frustrated. “But I thought you’d change your mind.”

It was totally irrational and ridiculous. He knew that. But damn it, that was what he wanted. He usually got that. Of course, now that he wanted something desperately, she was running away. Looking at her, he could tell she’d already gone. Her face was closed, unreadable. His chest tightened with loss.

“And you counted on that?” Chelsea asked. The edge in her voice grew sharper, but he chose to ignore it, forged foolishly ahead.

“Yes! I thought you’d see reason.”

“Reason?” Chelsea said coldly. Her eyes narrowed and Nate nearly swore. Bad thing to say. Before he could even wish for a rewind button, she lost her tenuous hold on her anger.

“You were thinking with your dick, plain and simple. You’re up on some high horse about one night stands, but you wanted to fuck me and came up with some half-assed idea. And now you want me to see reason, meaning do your bidding, like I’m some sort of groupie who has no idea what she wants. Guess what, Nate? I’m not like them, and I’m a perfectly reasonable person with my own mind. So reasonable, that I see I made the right choice. The sex was good, Nate. Great, in fact. Thanks for that. And for fixing Bunny. I mean it. I thought we could make this a civil good bye, but I guess not. Good bye, Nate.”

With that, she turned and walked down the hall. A moment later, he heard the door slam, a few seconds after that, the VW chug down the driveway. Nate never moved, nailed to the floor. She was right, she probably was doing the reasonable thing. That didn’t mean he had to.

###

“Shit!” Chelsea screamed for what felt like the hundredth time in ten minutes.

She’d made it down the driveway before bursting into tears of anger and pain. Her vision was impaired, but she’d be damned if she’d pull over. Distance between her and Nate had become on par with oxygen and she was determined to get it. He had called her unreasonable. How utterly ridiculous. It had been his stupid idea in the first place. Of course, she had jumped on it, thinking she could have her fling and not get hurt. It didn’t matter. Here she was, sitting in Bunny, crying and yelling, exactly what she had been hoping to avoid. Apparently, she couldn’t have contact with bad boys at all, no matter how casual. It all wound up the same. Just put her in a bad boy proof bubble.

The look on Nate’s face wasn’t what she’d expected, though. He had looked hurt, shell shocked. She was used to indifference. Steve, her last bad boy before Nate, had played his Game Boy while she packed up her few belongings from the apartment they shared when she was in town. She’d seen anger on their faces, even laughter. Real pain was something new, and so much worse. Now, she had his pain and her own to deal with.