Blindsided (7 page)

“I didn’t change my mind, not completely,” Nate continued.

He had laid out some bizarre plan for her, some attempt to weaken her will further. They could have a one night stand. That was his offer so far. He hadn’t gotten to the catch yet, but Chelsea felt as if her mental division was so deep it had seeped into her physical body. Getting what she wanted meant hurting Nate, and as much as she hated to admit it, hurting him wasn’t something she wanted to do. He had his reasons for not wanting one night stands. She wasn’t sure what they were, but you didn’t just make a hard and fast rule like that without reason.

“So, what’s the catch?” Chelsea asked with a sigh.

Sitting with Nate on the couch was like sitting next to the heating grate in a cold house. He exuded warmth and Chelsea’s skin was on fire, just from the small amount of contact they had. Maybe I shouldn’t do this at all, she thought. He might be too much for me to handle.

“The catch isn’t really a catch. It’s more of a challenge,” Nate said.

Chelsea raised an eyebrow but couldn’t manage to get any words out. She was still feeling a little shell shocked. Nate hadn’t given her a chance to breath, to get her feet under her. He read Tolstoy, gardened and came up with crazy plans that made her heart thump. Everything about him was a surprise.

“We spend one night together, and tomorrow morning, you can walk away if you want. If you decide not to walk away, you have to date me. Like in high school. And we don’t have sex again for a week. Silly, I know. But it’s the best I could come up with. I’m not thinking very well at the moment,” he added with a sheepish grin. She could relate to that.

Nate’s attitude was casual but his hand was tense. She thought about his offer, but she couldn’t see how this was a compromise of any sort. He was giving her what she wanted, with a clause tacked onto the end to make him feel better. As if she could spend a week seeing him and not have her hands all over him.

“You don’t have one night stands, but suddenly you’re willing to have one with me. Why? I’m assuming you had a reason for not wanting them in the first place. I don’t want you to compromise yourself for me,” Chelsea said. Even as she said it, she felt silly. This whole conversation was silly.

A look of poignant sadness briefly crossed Nate’s face. It was quickly replaced with a more serious expression.

“I want you, Chelsea. Physically. There’s no getting around it. And I know you want me. The sex will be great, I can guarantee it.” Chelsea’s heart pounded at the thought and if she had been standing, her knees would have given way. She was sure Nate Stone could do amazing things with his body and to hers. That wasn’t the reason for her hesitation. “But you’re right, I don’t do one night stands. I don’t do them because I never felt any sort of connection with the women. Which used to be great. Now I hate it. But I like you. I don’t just want you. So even if you walk away in the morning, I could live with it. And if you don’t, well, that’s even better.”

“If we do this, I’m going to walk away, Nate,” Chelsea said as gently as she could.

She had to tell him. If he changed his mind, that was his right. But she had to go in with a clear conscience. “I have to. I can’t take another broken heart, not right now.”

Especially not right now, she thought. This was the worst possible time to engage in a relationship with anyone. A relationship with a street sexy, leather jacket wearing motorcycle riding rock star would kill her. There were days when she merely felt shaky, then others when she couldn’t get out of bed. Nursing a broken heart would take more energy than she had to spare.

“I’ll let you go,” Nate said simply.

“Okay,” Chelsea replied with a slight nod of her head. Her body wouldn’t let her have it any other way.

The transition from maybe to definitely had occurred quickly, and her mind no longer wanted to process abstract thought. All the desire she had been restraining flooded through her at once, but she had no idea how to begin. None of her fantasies had involved a thought out plan, a crazy one at that. She was still trying to think of a way to start when Nate stood and slid his arms under her, easily lifting her off the couch. This romantic gesture wasn’t at all what she had been imagining. Tearing each other’s clothes off in the heat of passion, yes, but a chivalrous lift?

Nate’s arms were strong around her and Chelsea unabashedly nestled her head into his neck and inhaled him. No matter how she squirmed against him to get closer, he never struggled to hold her. Being pressed fully against him was nearly more than Chelsea could handle. She shoved down the memories of their earlier tryst in the car, but with his hands wrapped on her waist and legs, her body was more than ready to remember. He walked towards the back of the house, pushing open a door with his hip.

The room was nearly dark, but Chelsea could make out the centerpiece, a gigantic bed made with a tan comforter. Cozy and darkened, the room was painted a deep red color and seemed manly without being intimidatingly macho. No rock star leather and mirrors for him. Not what she had expected, but so far, Nate seemed to offer a lot of that.

Nate laid her on the bed and knelt over her. Chelsea couldn’t make out his face very well in the dim light, but she could feel his eyes on her. Wriggling against the soft fabric, Chelsea settled her head deeply into the down pillow.

He didn’t touch her, just stared at her for a few long moments. His eyes traced the curves of her body, lingering on her chest and legs. As his gaze passed over her, she felt her body warm and relax. Chelsea grew impatient waiting for Nate to ease himself down on top of her. She wanted, no needed, to have his weight on top of her. What was he waiting for? Had he changed his mind?

Lying on the comfy bed, her body began to betray her. Upright, she could convince herself she had the stamina to go a full day without napping. But now she realized just how much her day trip had cost her. Limbs heavy with exhaustion and arousal, Chelsea’s brain floated away from her.

Nate lowered his head and slowly touched his lips to hers and her languor deepened. For the first time in a long time, Chelsea’s mind had stopped its anxious fretting. She was simply body. Nate’s kiss was lazy and exploratory, his tongue slowly rolling into her mouth and seeking out the most sensitive areas. By the time Nate started exploring the skin on her neck, she was somewhere between sleep and waking. Her hands played with his soft hair, but their actions were no longer controlled by anything but sensation. Nate’s hands moved over her as if in a dream, each touch quickening her desire and sinking her deeper into relaxation.

Soon, Chelsea was out of her clothes. Before she could fully process feeling chilled, Nate slid her between the sheets, her heated skin soon warming the cool cotton. Nate was there with her, his skin soft under her languid hands, the stubble of on his chin brushing against her stomach, her thighs. She was pure, hot liquid, flowing towards unconscious pleasure.

The delicious feeling of Nate’s tongue, wet and soft against her clitoris woke her only a little. Fantasy and reality blended in Chelsea’s mind and body as Nate’s tongue parted her soft curls and his tongue slowly ran over her folds, tasting her, teasing.

His tongue flicked and slid all around the center of her, until finally, slowly and teasingly, he slid a finger inside her. Her body’s response was purely primal. What had felt liquid quickly tightened in pleasure and need and Chelsea’s orgasm gained strength and quickly overtook her slumber drugged body.

###

Chelsea struggled to drag her consciousness back from the deep blackness of a dreamless sleep. Her head felt heavy, her body languid. As she awakened fully, she realized what she had done. Fallen asleep during probably the best oral sex of her entire life. Oh, lovely. Nate must have been horrified. She certainly was. Processing this unflattering information, Chelsea stared at the ceiling in horror. Still, he hadn’t woken her up to fulfill his own needs. Either he had just given up on her as hopelessly pathetic or was more understanding than most.

Slow, sensual and completely selfless wasn’t what she had been expecting. Hot, sweaty and frantic was more like it. He kept surprising her, and it was beginning to get through her defenses. Once again, he wasn’t playing his part as a stereotype. Chelsea looked around the room and saw more evidence that Nate wasn’t what she had believed from the moment she had laid eyes on him. The room was tasteful, subtle. Art pieces hung on the walls and sat on the bookshelves that lined the wall. It was clean, neat and there were no beer bottles or mysterious drug paraphernalia to be seen.

Chelsea sighed and rolled over, sticking her head under the pillow. This was getting more complicated than she had bargained for and she hadn’t actually slept with him. After giving her the most intense and interesting orgasm of her life, he had left her to sleep. That took not only caring and kindness, but self control of a sort she had never seen. Nate was not simple, far from it. Now that she had had one orgasm, and slept a bit, she saw the foolhardiness of accepting his plan. What made her think she was strong enough to resist falling for him?

If she wasn’t careful, he’d rock her into a dream world with his sweetness. Then, when he stopped playing nice, she’d be left hurt and confused. And it would be all the worse because she should know better.

Chelsea shook her head to clear it. She still had a night to contemplate what she would do in the morning, and right now she felt herself missing Nate, his magnetism, his smile. The light coming through the windows was dim and gray. It was probably still raining and the clock next to the bed told her she’d been asleep for over an hour. Where was Nate, anyway? It was time to find out if he was mad or understanding. Either way, facing him for the first time was going to be slightly embarrassing.

Chelsea briefly looked around for her clothes before lazily giving up. How was that for wanton? Never in her life had she had a sexual experience that left her so out of her mind that she hadn’t kept very careful track of her clothes. Now that she was fully awake, she heard the faint sound of an acoustic guitar coming from some other room. Intrigued, she wrapped herself in the blanket and went in search of the sound.

She found its source in a den decorated with posters and gold albums. Chelsea started to look at the posters nearest her, interested in seeing Nate as a rock star, but the sight of the real thing drew her attention away. Nate sat on a stool, playing the guitar and occasionally breaking off to make notes on a pad that sat on a large, wooden desk next to him. He was shirtless and his hair was an adorable mess. His back was to her and Chelsea allowed herself a moment to study the muscles in his back that rippled beneath his painted skin when he moved. She was struck with a sudden pang of sadness. Soon she would have to leave and she wouldn’t be able to study his body or inspect the tattoos she found so fascinating.

Moving quietly to a couch by the door, she lay down, resting her head on the arm. The music he was playing was slow and quiet. He began to sing in a deep, mournful voice. He only got through a two phrases before shaking his head and crossing something out on his notebook before returning to playing the guitar.

Watching his creative process was fascinating, enthralling; watching his body move kept her arousal at a low hum. This moment was more intimate than their sleepy encounter of a few hours ago and Chelsea tried halfheartedly to fight the feeling of connection blossoming in her chest. Sleepy and sated, she soon gave up.

###

Frustrated, Nate set his guitar on its stand and turned his stool around to grab his cigarettes off his desk and caught sight of Chelsea lying on the couch. His heart leapt a little when he saw her. He expected to feel intruded upon, as he did anytime anyone interfered with his songwriting, but the feeling failed to materialize. In fact, he felt the completely unfamiliar desire to share with her, to get her opinion on his latest song. Hell, maybe she could help him out of his current rut.

Instead of asking for advice, he smiled at her. He still wasn’t sure where they stood. He didn’t think she had feigned sleep as a way to tactfully avoid him, but he couldn’t be sure. She was already so skittish about him, about his offer, that he hadn’t wanted to push her away. And so he had walked away from her warm naked body and come to write in the hopes of shaking off his sexual frustration. The success had been marginal. Very marginal.

“Hey, sleepy head,” he said, trying to keep any bitterness out of his voice.

“Sorry I fell asleep,” she said, “I didn’t mean to. I was just, well, relaxed. It wasn’t a reflection of your, um, talents,” she said, red climbing up her cheeks. Apparently, she was as thrown off by the situation as well.

“I’ll try not to let my ego get too bruised,” Nate said with a grin. “It was obvious you needed the sleep.”

Which was a little strange. What had she been up to that she was so physically devastated? Nate wanted to know, and then he wanted to fix it. When he had gotten her undressed, he had noticed that she was too thin, as well. It had been too dark to see clearly, but he had felt her ribs, the jut of hip bones. Christ, did she have some awful illness? It would be unfair for someone with so much fire to be wasting away.

“Well, that’s good. There’s no reason for your ego to be in the least bit bruised. In fact, you should take it as a compliment.”

“I’ll try to do that,” he said.

And he did. Sort of. He’d never had a woman fall asleep while he’d been performing that particular act, but at least she’d come for him first. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman who was relaxed around him. They were usually worked up and excited about fucking a rock star. Afterwards, they had tended to want to babble at him, not fall asleep. He was so glad those days were gone. Other guys might think he was nuts, but that was the way it was.