Blindsided (22 page)

“We were high school sweethearts,” Maddy said, “When I told you that I went on tour in the old days, I mean the old, old days, when it was the three of them and an old van with no seats. It was rough. But they made it and now touring is more fun, but the kids miss him. They haven’t toured in a while. Sean’s antsy as hell, but Bill gets to see the kids more, which is nice.”

“Do you like watching him play?” Chelsea asked.

Maddy laughed a bit longer than Chelsea thought the question warranted, or did until Maddy replied.

“Wait until you see it, sweetie. There’s nothing like it. Not that you need this yet, but when you’ve been together as long as we have, you’ll know that there’s nothing like watching him play live for your sex life.”

Chelsea blushed at the thought of this near perfect stranger thinking about her and Nate’s sex life. Granted, Maddy was probably privy to more of Nate’s past sex life than anyone wanted, given the cramped quarters of a tour van, but she really didn’t want to think about that.

She was saved from making a response by the deafening cheers of the crowd as Blindside took the stage.

Chapter 11

Good god, Chelsea thought a half an hour later. No wonder so many women wanted Nate. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was every inch the rock god he seemed so hesitant to be. Watching his hands move up and down the neck of the guitar was hypnotizing and she found herself mentally replacing the guitar with her body.

Energy and charisma poured off him like warm honey, intoxicating Chelsea and the women in the front row. His face contorted as he sang, as if he was feeling each emotion right then, even though she knew he had written some of the songs twenty years earlier. He wasn’t quite the Nate she knew. He was cooler, more aloof, unattainable, but still undeniably sexy. Because she knew what really lay underneath, she was even more turned on than the groupies who knew only this stage persona.

She spared a glance for Maddy standing beside her and saw that the other woman was staring at Bill with the same unbridled lust that she felt in her own eyes. How could she be so riveted to Bill, she wondered, when Nate was so full of animal magnetism and overt sexuality? Chelsea felt sorry for the women in the front row who were clearly lusting after Nate as much as she was. At least she had the comforting knowledge that she would be able to have sex with him in, she sneaked a peek at her watch, fifteen minutes. Well, according to their agreement anyway. She would try to wait until he got offstage, but that wasn’t going to be easy. The strong, driving beat of the music and gravelly guitar, coupled with Nate’s hypnotic voice felt like audible attraction.

The concert seemed to end almost before it had begun. Chelsea certainly hadn’t gotten enough of them, and if the screams of the crowd were any indication, they hadn’t either. The lights went out, and in the darkness, the band came off the stage. Chelsea felt, rather than saw Nate and wrapped her arms around him as if the contact with his skin was the only thing that would save her from a fate worse than death.

Registering that he had left his guitar somewhere, Chelsea all but climbed up Nate’s long legs, wrapping her own legs around his waist. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she breathed him in, his masculine scent, now tinged with sweat. How could this Gretchen person have ever wanted to miss this? Nate’s skin was slick with sweat, sliding under her hands like silk. His hair was damp and curling and his lips, which she had fastened herself to without being purely conscious of it, tasted wonderfully salty. Nate kissed her back just as fervently for a minute, then gently pulled away. His arms were hooked under her buttocks and held her like a sling.

The house lights came up and Chelsea could see that the some members of the departing audience were staring at them. She climbed down and rearranged her clothes.

“Definitely not like Gretchen,” Chelsea heard Maddy say with a laugh to Bill, but Chelsea only heard them peripherally. She had much more pressing needs to take care of.

“Well, let’s go backstage then,” Chelsea said.

She grabbed Nate’s hand and pulled him away from the opening that looked out on the rest of the club.

Nate finally led Chelsea to a back room that was probably a supply closet. Chelsea turned herself to face him and leapt up into his arms, once again wrapping her legs around his hips.

“Hi,” she said with a smile.

“Hi,” Nate replied. His eyes were filled with an assortment of emotions. He was clearly amused at her urgency, but there was something else as well. A sense of hesitation.

Thinking she knew the source of his hesitation, Chelsea slid down and let her feet land on the floor. She then held up her arm to show him her watch.

“It’s after midnight,” she said, “Mission accomplished. It’s Friday and we are free to tear each other’s clothes off. So let’s get to it, buddy.”

Nate smiled, but he still seemed unsure.

“What is it?” she asked.

If he didn’t lose his hesitancy soon, she thought she might scream. They were so close, and it had been so long, and he smelled so good. Chelsea was fairly certain that she would explode if he didn’t back her up against a wall and tear her clothes off.

“Now that you’ve seen me perform, I kind of feel like I have to be Nate the rock star around you. It was such a relief to not have to be that guy with a woman, and now, I don’t know, it’s different. I know it was my idea to bring you here, but, maybe it was a bad idea.”

He looked away from her again, and the pain evident on his face made Chelsea’s stomach flip.

“Nate,” she said, as she took a step backwards, hoping the distance would help her think rationally, “I don’t see you like that. You were amazing out there, and I loved seeing you like that. And yes, it’s definitely a turn on. I understand why so many of your female fans want you. But that’s not the reason I want you. Right now, I just want to have sex with my boyfriend, who’s been holding me off for a week, not some rock god who doesn’t really exist. Ok?”

He advanced towards her and enveloped her in his big body before pressing her gently against the wall. He leaned down and kissed her, hard, exploring and plunging his tongue into her mouth with reckless abandon.

Chelsea moaned into Nate’s mouth, her excitement and heat growing as Nate continued his relentless kiss. Twining her arms around the back of his neck, she wrapped her fingers into his hair and used it as a support to hold herself up. She was sure that if she didn’t, her knees would give out and she would tumble to the ground amid the piles of rags and boxes of detritus that surrounded them in the cramped space.

Nate’s hands roamed everywhere, one of them finally coming to rest on the spot that was occupying most of Chelsea’s attention. She pushed herself against his hand, trying desperately to increase the pressure there, where all the heat in her body had pooled. Nate removed his hand, but before Chelsea could voice any complaint, he had pushed his own groin into hers and she could feel his hardness against her. Unable and unwilling to stop herself, Chelsea unbuttoned Nate’s jeans and pushed them down from his hips. Nate broke off their kiss long enough to laugh a little at her boldness, all the while pulling off Chelsea’s pants as well.

In an instant, Nate had Chelsea in his arms, her legs wrapped around his hips. With a torturously slow movement, Nate brought Chelsea down onto his shaft, parting her wet folds as she moaned. Having him inside her felt so incredibly good. She felt like she hadn’t had sex in years, not just a few days.

A week had made a huge difference. Yeah, they were in a supply closet still partially clothed. And the lust and chemistry was incredible. But this time, as Chelsea came almost immediately, wrapping her fingers into Nate’s hair and crying out, she suddenly realized what everyone was talking about. Making love was a completely different animal than sex and that was exactly what they were doing.

They didn’t need candles and soft music, hell, even a bed, to feel the connection that thrummed between them as they held each other in the darkness, panting and spent.

###

Tony wandered blearily into the kitchen. He was struck at once by the scene outside. The sun was rising over mountains so close they seemed to rise up from the kitchen window. As the light struck the crags and planes the rocks lit up in hues of red, orange, pink and even purple, a color that he would have sworn did not occur in nature. At least not geology. Botany, maybe, but not geology. For several minutes, he stood stock still, his quest for caffeine forgotten, and simply stared off into the distance. When the sun had gained the tops of the mountains and began to blind him, he shook his head.

“Damn,” he muttered to himself.

He had never experienced anything quite like that. In the East, the sun rose in a haze of light blue and pink. In Seattle, it usually rose without fanfare behind a thick layer of clouds and fog. He hadn’t realized that a sunrise could be near blinding and so sudden. For the first time in his life, the myth of sun gods and chariots made perfect sense.

Still half asleep and dazzled by the sunrise, Tony shuffled around looking for a mug. When he found one, in a really dumb place, he thought, he turned to the coffeemaker. Which was empty. For several seconds, he stood and stared at the appliance. What was he supposed to do now? Tony hadn’t had to function enough to make coffee in the morning for years. His timer pot was his most valued possession. Last night he hadn’t even thought to ask if Jen had a timer pot. It was necessary for modern living. He’d also been a bit distracted by making love on the couch, but still.

Fighting the concurrent urges to either sit on the red tile floor and cry or call for Jen like a small child, Tony bumbled through the coffee making. After a few tense moments while he waited for it to brew, he downed his first cup, ignoring the burning in his throat. Feeling more willing to tackle the day, Tony walked from the kitchen into the living room. He hadn’t had much of a chance to really look at Jen’s house after they had arrived last night. Pent up physical needs had taken precedence over the house tour. Now he looked around, really taking in his surroundings.

Jen, as always, had shown amazing taste when designing her home. Her tastes had matured somewhat since their days of bohemian jungle and the lines were clean and modern without being cold. Tan tile floors were scattered with throw rugs and the light brown walls were accented with terra cotta trim. Jen had more alluded to stereotypical Southwest design than embraced it. He had often pictured Jen’s house being overrun with cow skulls and cacti. He shuddered at the thought as he walked to the windows for a better look out the windows.

The house hugged the mountains and the windows on this side of the house were nearly floor to ceiling. Tony grinned to himself and looked over at the opposite, Westerly facing wall. Sure enough, those windows were smaller and had blinds. Jen had designed the house to be energy efficient, insulating against the afternoon sun.

The living room had a high, vaulted ceiling with exposed beams. Fans hung from two of the beams, creating a nice breeze in the room. By pulling one of the leather chairs up to the window, Tony found he could look out on the mountains and the desert and feel the breeze of the fans. He sat like that for awhile, just enjoying the view, and for the first time in years, the taste of his coffee. Did Jen have different coffee here, or did he just appreciate it more in new surroundings?

Still pondering this, Tony wandered the rest of the house, through the dining room with its large oak table, past the two spare, for now, bedrooms and the spacious bathroom filled with sunlight and plants. He could imagine living here, could see his and Jen’s kids gathered around the big table, making a mess in the huge kitchen. He could even see himself and Jen sitting on the front porch watching the sun set when the kids were grown and gone. He had never been able to picture this sort of domestic harmony in Seattle.

In Seattle, he lived like a bachelor and had the apartment to prove it. He had one photo of Jen sitting on his desk and that was it. The walls were white, his furniture purchased mostly at a discount store. Here, the walls were covered in photos of he and Jen, Jen and her friends, Jen’s family, even some of Jen and his family. He chuckled at the photo of Jen and Chelsea looking very jovial and very drunk at a family Christmas party several years ago.

Jen had managed to achieve what he hadn’t in the years they’d lived apart. A home, a place where they could raise a family. Needing some fresh air, Tony went out onto the back porch via the French doors that opened onto a small brick patio. The sun was hot already, but not unbearable. He could run in the early mornings, before it got hot. And in the winter, which Jen had assured him Santa Fe had, he would he would be able to run nearly any time of day. His schedule was flexible.

Tony took a swig of his coffee. Jen had planned a tour of the city for them that day, but Tony realized he didn’t need it. His mind was already running through the details of moving, the cost of movers versus renting a truck, the pros and cons of breaking his lease and losing his deposit.