Blindsided (17 page)

“We could find something else to occupy us until the second feature,” she said as she straddled Nate and started moving her hips in time to the music.

Nate squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed her hips, moving them closer to his. She moaned as his hardness touched the spot that had melted during his last onslaught of his mouth on hers.

She leaned down to kiss his lips, holding his head in her hands as she kissed him gently, teasingly, occasionally pulling herself out of his reach.

His hands had worked up under her shirt, his hands cupping her breasts. His fingers found her tightened nipples and teased them through the thin fabric of her bra. As Chelsea let out a moan, the vocals of the song from the radio started after the long, sensual intro. Chelsea couldn’t quite make out the words in her arousal induced haze. She had never heard the song before, but the voice was very familiar. Rough, yet sweet, a low, sensual growl filled with emotion. Nate was looking at her with aroused amusement.

“It’s you!” she said.

No wonder the voice sounded familiar. Its owner sat between her thighs. She couldn’t be sure in the dim light, but she was pretty sure Nate was blushing.

“It is me,” Nate agreed, “What do you think?”

Chelsea stopped her writhing and concentrated on the song. He moved his hands to rest on her rib cage. She listened closely to the song. It was addictive. The drum and the bass were sinuous and sensual, the vocals hard and striking and filled with rage and pain and something else. Hope for redemption, maybe.

“I like it. I really do,” she said after a moment.

It was unlike anything she’d heard before, and frankly, hearing Nate all around her was more than her libido could handle. She leaned forward and started kissing him again.

He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him with ease, reminding Chelsea just how little control she had over him physically, at least strength wise. He was so much bigger and stronger that any hold she got on him was allowed by him, not enforced by her. His strong hands gripped her, possessed her.

She tried to tease him, to hold her hips up from his, but her resistance lasted only seconds. He was not in the mood to be toyed with, apparently.

“Get down here,” he growled as he pulled her to him, matching their hips up.

Instinctively, she ground against him, applying pressure and heat to both of them. Nate pulled her shirt up over her head and then her bra. A low, primal noise escaped the back of his throat when her breasts were uncovered, ripe for the taking. Her nipples were perched high and tight on the swollen flesh of her breasts and she unashamedly pushed them forward, offering them to him to taste, to suckle. He took one nipple in his mouth and caressed the other with his thumb.

Chelsea moaned and arched her back, bringing her mound into even closer contact with Nate’s growing erection. Gripping Nate’s hair, she finally found the willpower to pull his head away from her.

“You can’t keep this up,” she said, “Not if you’re still on your no sex kick.”

Nate ignored her and slid one hand down to the heat between her legs. She almost lost her mind as he ground his hand against her, finding her folds even under two layers of fabric and gently caressing them.

“Nate, I mean it. I might have to go find someone else to sleep with me if you won’t.”

Unconcerned, Nate tightened his grip on her and continued teasing her with his hand.

“I’ll kill any man who finishes what I started,” Nate mumbled into Chelsea’s neck in between kisses and nibbles to the tender skin there.

“Well then maybe you better finish what you started, since you’re Mister Self Control.”

Before she knew she was moving, Chelsea was laying down on the seat, her head and chest on Nate’s lap, her legs sprawled on the seat next to him, one foot resting on the floor. He quickly unbuttoned her jeans and snuck his hand into both the jeans and the silk underwear beneath them. The sweet, salty scent of her wafted up to them in the closed car and Chelsea moaned as his fingers gently parted her swollen, slick flesh. He slid his fingers along her labia, every touch sweetly tormenting her. She bucked her hips up to meet his hand, but he kept his touch light.

For what seemed like an interminable amount of time, he kept up his light teasing, until she felt totally out of her mind with need. Only then did he give in. She gasped as he slowly thrust one finger inside of her, slid it out, then back in, this time joined by a second finger. Her back arched off the seat as she came, crying out and grabbing at the leather of the seat and Nate’s arm to anchor herself as she flew apart.

###

“You know, you’re kind of easy to finish off,” Nate said with a smile. Chelsea’s eyes were still closed, her head in his lap. He liked her like this, sated and sleepy looking. It was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. He liked making her come while his voice reverberated around them. The thought of making love while listening to himself had always seemed distasteful to him, but now there was something sexy about it. It was possession, male ego, pure and simple. He was everywhere, invading all her senses.

“Are you complaining about that?” Chelsea said finally, obviously struggling to put words together into something coherent. Another ego boost.

“What do you mean?” he asked. He was stroking the soft skin of her belly, luxuriating in the softness of her, the inherent femininity.

“I mean I’m usually a challenge. Except for you. Maybe everyone else was just unskilled, but I think it’s your smell. I get so turned on from being near you that by the time you touch me, I’m almost ready to explode, and then you touch me and I go nuts,” she said. Her voice was low and gravely, her eyes still closed.

“Well, that’s nice to hear,” Nate said.

“Then there’s your damn smile. Gets me every time,” she muttered just before falling asleep. Nate vowed to smile more.

They watched the second movie from the backseat. At least Nate watched it, kind of. He half watched the simplistic movie and half watched Chelsea sleep in his lap. She was an adorable little pile of confusing, sexy woman and he had no idea what to do with her. He had watched her come clean to her mother about her feelings, but he knew there was something she was holding back.

Every day he spent with her he could read her face better, and there was something she was hiding. Once in a while, he’d catch a glimmer of panic skitter across her face before she was able to hide it. It was never during anything particularly stressful. Hell, he’d caught it over brunch. Nothing panic inducing about eggs.

Then there was the terrifying way she woke up in the middle of the night, her soft skin soaked in sweat. Only at night, though. They’d napped during the day and she slept fine, just like now. Out like a light. But at night, in bed, it was a different story all together. All he’d known to do was hold her until her shaking stopped and she went back to sleep. It made him feel so goddamn helpless and he had lain awake for hours after, watching her sleep, worrying about her. He wasn’t even sure if she fully woke up, but she sobbed and it broke his heart.

Which was terrifying. He felt like calling Bill and Maddy and saying, ‘See, this is what I was afraid of. This is why I never let myself fall in, gulp, love.’ Maddy would love that, especially since he’d told her about his instinctive feelings for Chelsea in a moment of weakness. He’d been avoiding talking to her since then. He didn’t want to hear her gloat about the wonders of love. He’d been a romantic, had always envied Bill and Maddy, but they could have told him how fucking scary the whole thing was.

Nothing could have prepared him for the way he felt about this woman. Couldn’t someone have warned him, given him some kind of manual? He wasn’t sure it was love yet, wasn’t ready to call it that, but she undid him at every turn. Her frigging smile left him breathless and when she was upset, so was he. He hated to see her cry like that, hated even more that he didn’t know what to do about it. Okay, so he had feelings for her, and as terrifying as it was, he was just going to have to get over it. But this not being able to help her thing was another story all together. He’d learn to deal with his feelings for her, but no way in hell was he just going to stand by while she cried and panicked.

He’d had enough of that. His first instinct had told him that she was different, special. Told him that something between the two of them could work. Nothing he’d seen in the past few days had shown him anything different. Even keeping himself in check wasn’t so hard with her around. He didn’t have to try too hard. With her he actually
wanted
to be the guy he knew he could be. Imagine that. But if this was going to turn into something more than a strange, one week experiment, he needed to know why she woke up crying in the middle of the night so he could damn well try to fix it.

He had a few more days until midnight struck and Cinderella ran off and he was going to find out what the problem was before then. Which meant tomorrow. Before they went to LA and she saw what the rest of his life was like and everything got a hell of a lot more complicated.

Chapter 9

Chelsea woke up the next day content in the knowledge that the following day, she would get to go on a trip. An airport, a plane, maybe a taxi. It was all so exciting it was nearly pathetic. Her excitement was tempered only by sadness over leaving the cocoon she and Nate had created around themselves. There was nothing but them and their feelings for each other. Feelings that were quickly spiraling out of control.

Somewhere along the way, Nate had melted away her resistance with his near constant thoughtfulness, his intelligence, his generosity. If this was what all bad boys grew into, she’d take it. Which would be great. Her and Nate. A fantasy life that could never be.

He’d been gently pushing her to tell him what was wrong since the very beginning. Why are you so sleepy? Why are you on a sabbatical? He’d held her several times in the night when she’d awoken in a terror, and though he never mentioned it in the morning, he had to wonder why. It wasn’t normal to wake up crying and shaking. She’d pushed it off, knowing it was pointless to tell him about it when she would never see him again.

No more Nate. No painted skin, no cocksure grin, no being picked up and carted around at his whim. No more staying in this house, no more cocoon. The future without Nate looked bleak, desolate and colorless.

But there was no other option. She had to leave again as soon as she was able. She’d woken twice last night, the worst so far. Her panic had been near overwhelming and for a period that could have been seconds or centuries, she’d been sure she was going to die. Nothing in the dark room could save her, not even Nate. For endless moments she had floundered in the bed, twisting the sheets around her, senses cut off from the world as her inner darkness choked her. How the hell could she make something work with someone when a few stationary weeks led to mind gnawing terror?

Suddenly, the trip to L.A. no longer had the power to cheer her up.

###

Outside, the sun was actually shining and Nate quickly decided it was now or never. They were leaving the following morning to go to L.A., and if he didn’t know what the hell was going on in Chelsea’s life that made her wake up crying, he’d go nuts. Last night had been terrifying for him and he hadn’t been the one gasping and clawing at nothing, lost to the world in a deep terror.

In such a short time, he’d gotten so used to having her around, so used to having someone to share random thoughts with. The fact that she was sexy as hell didn’t hurt. Just hanging around the house with her was a fun adventure. Whatever they did, he couldn’t keep his hands off her, and she shared the feeling. Guess he wasn’t so old after all. She liked his body fine, if her spontaneous touches and heated glances were any indication. She was such a lovely distraction, and for the first time in ages, he wanted to write music.

In the past three days, he’d made more notes on napkins and scraps of paper than in the whole previous year. He hadn’t even realized he’d been in a slump until he’d been writing song lyrics on the back of his hand and remembered that he used to do that all the time. The words used to just flow from him. And now they were again. It didn’t make him want to go on tour and do the rock star thing again, but it did make him want to go into the studio. That ought to make Sean and Bill happy.

Nate groaned. Her lips were so distracting he almost forgot the fact that he was most likely going to piss her off when he started pushing her for answers.

“Let’s go, babe,” he said, pulling himself away with an effort.

The woods behind the house were damp, as always, but the sun filtered through the trees casting pleasant shadows on the pine needle floor of the forest. Being out here always made him feel much calmer, more centered. He’d tried so many times to get her to talk to him, but so far, she’d batted away his attempts. He wasn’t sure how she’d take a more forceful approach, but he had to know. Had to know so he could fix it, if at all possible. It damn well had to be possible, because he couldn’t deal with the whole feeling helpless thing.