Bad Boy Romance: Nick (Romantic Suspense Alpha Male Romance) (New Adult Rock Star Contemporary Short Stories) (Hard Rock Star Series Book 2) (62 page)

****

Chelsea paced back and forth
along the length of the living room area of the suite she had checked into with
Johan only a few minutes before, her arms crossed over her chest, looking at
the floor beneath her feet. She knew, in the back of her mind, that she was not
doing any favors to herself; but as she turned sharply and counted the steps to
the other end of the room, she couldn’t help herself.

They had driven for three hours;
that was the most that Chelsea knew. She was not even certain that they were
three hours away from the city she lived in. It seemed somehow as if Johan had
doubled back at some point, as if she had seen the same vague landmarks—a stand
of trees, or a particular unfamiliar sign—more than once, though she couldn’t
be sure. Fatigue throbbed in her bones, waging war with the adrenaline surging
through her veins. Chelsea felt as if there were tiny bugs underneath her skin,
making her tingle, making her nerves twitch inside of her.

Johan had given her exactly an
hour and a half before they left; he had told her to bring her laptop out, log into
her work station, and then dismissed her to pack her things while he went in
and downloaded whatever files she was supposed to have been given, the
information that had led to the CEO of her company deciding that she needed to
be eliminated. “Why didn’t he just fire me?” she asked out loud, glancing at
Johan. He was seated on the other end of the room, reading a book; a perfect
picture of tranquility.
Who the hell is he, anyway?
Chelsea wondered,
frowning at the sight of the man reading. The front cover of the book gave her
no clues as to what its contents might be; Chelsea couldn’t make heads or tails
of the foreign words, and there was no picture to provide any context.
What
the hell kind of guy carries two guns, three knives, drives a sports car, and
reads in his downtime?
Johan glanced up from his book, his expression
almost bored.

“Because, he can’t be certain
that you don’t already have the information—or didn’t already have the
information. If he fired you, that wouldn’t do him any good.” Johan licked his
lips, smiling slightly. “If it gives you any consolation, he’s after the
criminal mastermind who decided to roll on him, too.” Chelsea felt a shiver
work down her spine.

“That doesn’t exactly make me
feel great about my chances. He’s killed three people already.” Chelsea
remembered—bleakly—a fortune she had gotten once at a Chinese restaurant:
“Three can keep a secret, if you get rid of two.” She wondered if Rosen had
received that same advice, or if as a lowlife, the epiphany came naturally to him.
She started walking more quickly, feeling like a lion trapped in a cage.

The hotel they had come to was
much nicer than Chelsea would have expected; the suite was as big as her
apartment, with two bedrooms, a living room, and a kitchenette. It was obvious
to her that Johan had had much more lead-time than she originally thought; the
room they were in was already booked when they arrived. “Who do you work for?”
Chelsea asked him suddenly, stopping in mid-step.

“That really isn’t your
concern,” Johan pointed out, glancing up from his book once more.

“I would think it is,” Chelsea
countered. “I mean—as far as I know, you’re just…you might even be working for
Rosen. Holding me here until someone can come and get me.” Her feet started
moving again as the adrenaline flowed through Chelsea’s veins, making her heart
beat faster.

“Because Rosen would want you to
be comfortable while you waited?”

“Why not? Lull me into a false
sense of security.” Johan laughed.

“His goons could have snatched
you out of your apartment at any time. They didn’t. I could have grabbed you on
your way to your car this morning and drugged you to bring you here.”

“That is probably the least
comforting thing you’ve said to me all day.”
Not that he’s been exactly
chatty.
Chelsea looked down at the floor, numbering her steps as she made
her way from one end of the room to the other.

“You should stop pacing,” Johan
said, his voice perfectly level. “It’s making you more anxious.”

“Well excuse me!” Chelsea
countered, her feet coming to a stop in spite of her protest. “I just spent
three hours on the road with someone I don’t even know, I have no idea where I
am, and my morning started out with being told that someone wants me dead, and
I have an hour and a half to pack up anything I couldn’t bear to lose, because
my house might get wrecked—who knows?” She crossed her arms over her chest,
pinning Johan down with a stare as brittle anger built up inside of her.
Chelsea fleetingly wished that she hadn’t outgrown the kind of tantrums that
had marked her toddler years; it would be so satisfying to throw herself onto
the floor kicking and screaming. “Someone could come in at any moment and try
to kill me. How the hell are you so calm?” Johan’s lips twitched and Chelsea’s
anger deepened at his amusement.

“Because I know that someone
could come at any moment and try and kill me, or you—or anyone,” Johan said.
“At any time.” He shrugged. “Or you could get hit by a car. You could get
struck by lightning. Hell—people have been killed by animals falling out of the
sky. The difference is that right now you know someone is out to get you. At
least right now there’s someone between you and your death.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have a
fabulous, detached attitude about my entire life going to pieces around me,”
Chelsea said, carefully keeping her voice low. She could feel the anger rising
up inside of her, the temptation to raise her voice, to scream, to shout,
making her throat tighten.

“You should do something to
relax,” Johan said matter-of-factly. “Take a bath, or get a massage. I’m fairly
certain the mini-bar is well stocked.” Chelsea clenched her teeth, suppressing
the shriek of indignation that threatened to rip through her throat at the dry,
almost bored tone of Johan’s voice.

“Take a bath?” she asked him
finally. “When someone could bust through the door at any minute, you suggest I
take a bath.”

“You’d have ten minutes or
better to get dressed before they broke in on you,” Johan pointed out. “Or if
you don’t mind fighting naked, you could use that time to find a weapon.”
Chelsea stared at him in utter disbelief.

“Are you even listening to the
words coming out of your mouth right now?” She bit off the rest of the words
that threatened to tumble past her lips as she heard the volume of her voice
rising. Johan set his book down, regarding her for a long moment. Chelsea felt
a thrill of instinctive fear at the sight of him seated a few yards away,
absolutely still, completely silent.

“I’m going to need you to calm
the fuck down, Chelsea,” Johan said, his voice a low almost-growl. The sound
sent a shiver down Chelsea’s spine; somehow his accent was more pronounced, the
rasping edge of his tone sharper. “Go take a bath. You look exhausted, and if
you’re going to keep moving for the next few days, you’re going to need to sleep
at some point.” Chelsea felt her mouth go dry; there was something about
Johan’s absolute stillness that reminded her of a predator about to strike. “If
you aren’t in the bathroom and running a bath in the next five minutes, I will
pick you up and carry you there, and instead of a nice hot bath, you’ll have a
cold, fully-clothed shower.”

For just a moment, Chelsea’s
brittle rage rose up, and she reveled in the thought of defying him, of telling
Johan that she was not about to do what he said, that he wasn’t in charge of
her and she would take a bath or not as she damned well pleased. But after the
satisfying fantasy played through in her mind, she felt the fatigue of her
inadequate sleep, even less adequate caffeine, and the stresses of the day come
crashing down around her.

She turned away from Johan,
walking quickly in the direction of the master bedroom. “I’m not doing this
because you told me to,” she shouted over her shoulder, casting a resentful
glance in the direction of the back of his chair. Chelsea knew it was petty;
but she couldn’t resist saying it, as she closed the door behind her and began
to strip off her clothes. Irritation carried her through as she peeled off her
jeans and tee shirt, as her arms tangled somehow in the straps of her bra.
Chelsea flung her clothes away from her with bitter disregard for where they
ended up, muttering to herself as she twisted the knobs on the taps. “I need to
calm down, he says. I look exhausted he says…maybe, Johan, that’s because I am
exhausted, because my entire life is falling to pieces around me and I have no
idea what the hell is going on.” She plunged one foot into the water and
hissed, reaching out blindly and turning the cold water on to lower the
temperature.

Chelsea climbed over the high
lip of the deep tub, appreciating it almost resentfully. As she sank down into
the water, the bitter words crowding their way past her lips began to ebb, and
she felt her muscles slowly relaxing as the heat swirled around her. Try as she
might to hold onto her resentment, the warmth and support of the water
surrounding her began to lull her mind, even as the ache of fatigue flowed out
of her body. She found a ridge in the wall of the tub and rested her head on it
as drowsiness overcame her.

****

For the fourth time that day,
Chelsea fell out of a deep doze, her sleep interrupted by the sound of someone
tapping at the bathroom door. “Are you alive in there, Chelsea?” Chelsea
glanced in the direction of the door, scowling even though the person on the
other side of it obviously couldn’t see her face.

“Yes,” she said, sitting up
slightly in the still-warm water.

“I have something for you,”
Johan said. “Consider it a peace offering.” Chelsea raised an eyebrow, her lips
twisting into something that wasn’t quite a smile. She glanced around the room.

“I’m naked,” she pointed out,
raising her voice just enough to be heard through the door.

“I don’t mind if you don’t,”
Johan replied. Chelsea rolled her eyes, catching her bottom lip between her
teeth and worrying it for a moment in thought. Curiosity won out over both
spite and modesty. She reached out and pulled the shower curtain along the
length of the tub, providing what little cover she could for herself.

“Fine. The door’s unlocked.” She
realized that Johan could have easily just walked in; she had been so angry and
so tired when she acceded to his demand that she take a bath that she hadn’t
even given thought to locking it. Chelsea’s cheeks heated up from more than the
humid temperature of the room.

A moment later, Johan came
through the door, bearing a large basket full of items that Chelsea didn’t have
the energy to examine in more detail. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of the
shower curtain and shrugged, shifting down into a crouch only a few feet away
from her. “It occurred to me that if I expect you to relax, it would make more
sense to help you relax.” His tone was not quite apologetic; Johan gestured to
the basket. “I ordered this from the spa downstairs off of the room service
menu—it has toiletries, massage oils, candles, I think a bathrobe…” Johan
shrugged again.

“Are you suggesting that I
massage myself?” Chelsea asked him, glancing from the basket to Johan’s face
doubtfully. Johan smiled slightly.

“I am suggesting that I could
give you a massage,” Johan said. “I studied it a few years ago.” Chelsea opened
her mouth, found that she wasn’t entirely sure what to say, and closed it
again, staring at Johan in silence as the explanation filtered through her
brain.

“You—how, exactly did you study
it?” she sat up slightly in the tub, heedless of the fact that more of her body
showed. “I mean you’re—what, some kind of bodyguard-assassin-commando kind of
guy?” Johan smiled, his bright eyes glinting with amusement.

“Sometimes cover means working
as a massage therapist, and that cover works better if you know what you’re
doing.” Chelsea bit her bottom lip, trying to absorb that information.

“So you’re suggesting I let you
rub me down with oil to relax me,” Chelsea said slowly, the heat intensifying
in her cheeks as she spoke, spreading down over her chest. She finally realized
that her breasts were in Johan’s view and shifted slightly behind the shower
curtain.

“You’re blushing,” Johan said,
his faint smile deepening. “Why’d you move? I was enjoying the view.” Chelsea
grabbed at the shower curtain, her heart beating faster.

“I’m not getting a massage from
someone who’s already leering at me,” Chelsea told him tartly.

“I’m not leering,” Johan said
matter-of-factly. “I forget sometimes how Americans feel about nudity.” He
licked his lips, his gaze flicking up to meet hers. “Of course, we could have
sex. That’s another way to relieve stress—and it kills time.” Chelsea’s mouth
opened in surprise. “You’re a beautiful woman; I’ve been told that I’m very
good in bed. There’s nothing worth watching on TV, and it would serve the
purpose of giving you some appetite.”

“That has got to be the least
romantic come-on I have ever heard,” Chelsea said, staring at him in a mixture
of confusion and amusement.

“I started with you being beautiful,”
Johan pointed out, amusement flickering in his blue-green eyes. “You are. As
soon as you came in here, I thought about that solution to the problem of you
being so tightly wound.” Johan leaned in slightly closer, his gaze never
leaving her face. “When was the last time someone got you off, Chelsea?”
Chelsea bit her bottom lip, uncomfortably aware of the fact that she was
completely naked, nothing more than some fabric and plastic separating her from
Johan. “See, I think it’s been entirely too long—or you’d have an answer for
me.”

“It’s none of your business,”
Chelsea said, crossing her arms instinctively over her chest.

“Oh-ho,” Johan said, grinning
broadly. “It’s been a while then.” The smile disappeared in a flash, and
Chelsea felt her body heating up in a way that had nothing to do with the water
swirling around her as Johan gazed at her intently. “You can’t sleep in the
tub; you’d drown or dissolve.” Johan rose to his feet in a lithe, almost feline
movement, reaching out and nimbly snatching one of the towels off of the rack
without even looking. “You’ve gotten as much relaxation out of this as you
possibly can, and I can see it all over your face that you’re still on the edge
of another panic attack. Let me help you, Chelsea.”

Before she could react, before
she could think of anything to say to the offer, Johan pulled the shower
curtain aside, his gaze trailing over her body in a quick appraisal before he
reached down, his hand closing firmly around her arm. He pulled her up, out of
the water, and Chelsea shivered as the cooler air hit her. Johan lifted her
over the lip of the tub, wrapping the thick, warm towel around her body. His
arms coiled around her waist, drawing her close, and Chelsea gasped as his
hard, muscular body pressed against hers. Johan’s hand moved up, tilting her
face slightly, and he brushed his lips against hers—a barely-there caress,
feather light at first.

Chelsea’s legs weakened, her
body swaying against his as Johan deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against
her lips, his hands beginning to move over the curves of her body. She opened
her mouth, moaning softly as Johan held her tightly, his tongue slipping
quickly past her lips to probe and explore. The towel fell away from her, but
Chelsea barely noticed, her own hands coming to life, trailing over Johan’s
broad shoulders, exploring the muscled plane of his chest through the thin
fabric of his tee shirt, trailing around to his back.

All at once, he broke away from
her mouth, his lips gliding along the line of her jaw, the softness of his skin
contrasting with the roughness of his stubble. Johan nipped sharply at the spot
just below her ear where Chelsea’s pulse fluttered, rabbit-fast. “You should
never be allowed to wear clothes,” Johan murmured, his hands gliding down along
her waist to settle at her hips. “Never anything more than a towel. It’s a sin
to cover this up.” His hands slid upward to cup her full, heavy breasts, giving
them a light squeeze. “Or these.” Johan’s teeth closed around her earlobe,
nibbling at the tender flesh, and Chelsea gasped, arching into his body
instinctively, a slight whimper breaking through her lips as Johan’s fingers
claimed both of her nipples at once, rolling and twisting the already firm
nubs. Johan’s lips traveled down along the column of her throat, his stubble
rasping against her sensitive skin as he kissed and nipped, making Chelsea gasp
with sweeping laps of his tongue.

All at once, Johan broke away
from her, his intent gaze capturing her eyes for just a moment. “You want to do
this,” he said, the sentence not quite a question. Chelsea nodded, tingling all
over, unable to bring her mind to think of words. Johan lifted her up into his
arms, draping her legs around his waist and coiling one arm underneath her
buttocks. He carried her out of the bathroom as if she weighed nothing at all,
kissing along the line of her neck almost meditatively as he brought her into
the bedroom.

Johan gently deposited her on
the bed, taking a step back. Chelsea blushed as his intent, avid gaze trailed
over her body slowly, drinking in every inch of her with undisguised hunger.
“Hey,” Chelsea said breathlessly, resisting the urge to cover herself up. “How
come I’m the only one naked here?” Johan blinked, glancing up from his admiring
inspection to look at her face. He smiled slowly.

“That’s easily fixed,” he said.
Chelsea licked her lips as his hands moved to the hem of his tee shirt. He
pulled the fabric up, revealing the flat ridges and planes of his abdomen, the
swell of his pectoral muscles, a dusting of wheat-colored hair spattered across
his chest. Chelsea glanced down to see the deep crease of his pelvis just above
the belted waistband of his jeans and felt something inside of her tighten at
the sight. Johan unbuckled his belt quickly, not even bothering to free it from
the loops of his pants before he attacked the fly of his jeans, unbuttoning and
unzipping it in a movement almost too fast for Chelsea’s dazed eyes to catch.
Her breath caught in her throat as Johan hooked his fingers in the waistband of
his pants, tugging them down over his lean hips, along his muscled thighs. He
stepped out of the fabric, standing in almost absolute stillness for a moment
in nothing more than a pair of boxer-briefs. Chelsea’s mouth watered even as
her throat tightened at the sight of the ridge his hard cock formed at the
front of his underwear; Johan’s erection strained at the tight confines of the
material, giving Chelsea a moment’s trepidation. She swallowed convulsively,
her body heating up even more intensely as Johan pulled at the elastic
waistband, dragging it down. His cock sprung free, fully erect, and Chelsea’s
eyes widened; even if the shape of him had warned her, she was still surprised
at the sight of his thick, hard, long cock.

In an instant, it seemed, Johan
was on top of her, his body covering hers. He claimed her lips with his own,
his hands dancing over the curves of her body, tickling and teasing and
caressing her everywhere all at once. “Feeling relaxed?” he murmured lowly
against her lips, as one hand drifted down between her legs. Chelsea shivered
as his fingertips brushed against her slick folds, barely touching her.

“More and more relaxed by the
moment,” she answered almost absently, gasping sharply as Johan’s fingers slid
between her labia to stroke her slowly. She was already soaking wet; Chelsea
could feel the heat of her fluids along the folds of her pussy, spreading along
her inner thighs.

“I’m going to make this last,”
Johan told her, trailing his lips down along the column of her throat to her collarbones.
His fingers found her clit by touch—but barely missed it, making Chelsea’s hips
twist as her body struggled for better contact. Johan chuckled lowly, dipping
his fingers down to her inner labia, stroking and rubbing slowly—achingly
slowly. Chelsea murmured an incoherent protest, a soft whimper leaving her
throat as she moved underneath him in instinctive reaction. “Patience,
Chelsea,” Johan said with a chuckle, one finger barely sliding inside of her
before withdrawing to tease once more. “We have nothing but time right now.”

“You are such a jerk,” Chelsea
told him, clenching her teeth as she writhed and squirmed, twisting her hips.
Her hands kneaded and caressed, exploring the lines of Johan’s lean shoulders,
the ridges of his spine, and the dip at the small of his back. “You’re…supposed
to be…helping me relax…not—not making me more tense.” Her breaths came in
panting bursts, her whole body humming with sensation, tingling with
anticipation as Johan brought his fingers to just below her clit over and over
again, denying her the touch she wanted more than anything in the world.

“Stop fighting it then,” Johan
murmured, nipping sharply at the base of her throat. “As soon as you stop
fighting it you’ll enjoy this much more.” He brought his fingertips up to swirl
around her clit for just a moment—a flicker, no more than a heartbeat—and
Chelsea cried out, every muscle in her body seemingly tensing from the
short-lived relief. Johan teased her relentlessly, bringing her to the point
where Chelsea was on the verge of pleading him to give her what she needed
before he gave her pleasure-center a lingering stroke of his fingers, only to
dip down lower once more. Chelsea gave into the torture gradually, the rising
heat in her body making it impossible for her to continue fighting; she writhed
and twisted underneath Johan, her hands wandering all over his body, reaching
down to stroke his hot, hard cock and then up to clutch at his shoulders in
desperation. Threats, promises, pleas, left her lips in a rush that she barely
heard as Johan brought her to the edge of orgasm over and over again.

Finally, he withdrew his fingers
altogether, pulling himself up as his hips shifted downward between her legs,
and Chelsea opened her eyes without knowing when she had closed them to see him
looking down at her intently, his brilliant eyes blazing with lust. “Keep your
eyes open,” he told her lowly. Chelsea shivered as she felt the heat and
hardness of his cock sliding against her drenched labia, barely rubbing against
her as he rocked his hips slowly. “Let go of everything but me, Chelsea.” She
nodded, not quite certain what she was agreeing to, her mind hazed over
completely with the need for relief.

Johan shifted against her, and
Chelsea felt his finger barely brush her as he guided the tip of his cock
between her slick folds. He thrust into her in one slow, steady movement,
pushing past the resistance of her flexing muscles. Chelsea gasped as he filled
her up in seconds, barely managing to keep her eyes open. Johan’s lips curved
in a satisfied smile as his hips met hers. “Feel me, Chelsea,” he murmured,
brushing his lips against hers. He stayed absolutely still for an agonizing
moment, his cock buried deep inside of her, twitching slightly. Johan began to
rock his hips once more, somehow pushing deeper and deeper inside of her, the
thick heat of his cock rubbing along her inner walls with every movement.
Chelsea gripped his shoulders tightly, falling into his rhythm like a tidal
flow. Johan’s bright eyes gazed into hers even as they both began to move
faster, panting as the heat built up between them. Chelsea felt her pleasure
mounting moment by moment, her whole body tingling with it, and gave into the
rush of sensation that coursed through her, holding Johan’s gaze even as she
moaned out again and again.