Bad Boy Romance: Nick (Romantic Suspense Alpha Male Romance) (New Adult Rock Star Contemporary Short Stories) (Hard Rock Star Series Book 2) (64 page)

****

Chelsea didn’t quite suppress
the yelp of surprise that came out of her lips as Johan reached out for her,
pulling her towards him with a strong hand. He brushed his lips against hers,
his arms coiling around her waist, lifting Chelsea up off of her feet slightly
to press against him all over. “Did you know,” he murmured, his lips tickling
hers as he spoke, his hot breath tracing against her skin, “that you look
absolutely adorable when you’re curled up asleep?” Chelsea smiled, her skin
tingling as Johan’s hands slipped and slid along the curves of her body,
caressing and teasing her.

“Have I ever seen you asleep?”
she asked; the question seemed distant—there were so many other, more important
things to think about somehow. Johan chuckled lowly, sliding his hands
underneath the hem of her blouse, making Chelsea shiver as he tickled her ribs.
Chelsea draped her arms around Johan’s broad, strong shoulders, arching into
him, pressing her body against his.

“I’m not nearly as cute as you,”
Johan told her. His hands moved up to cup her breasts through the fabric of her
bra, and Chelsea moaned softly as he gave the mounds of flesh a careful
squeeze. Her nipples hardened, straining against the thin, lacy fabric. It was
all too easy for Chelsea to remember what Johan looked like naked, the sight of
his muscular chest, the flat ridges of his abdomen, deep creases at his hips
and the delicious—irresistible—look of his hard cock standing proudly erect.

“Who—are you—kidding?” Chelsea
asked, gasping as Johan’s lips left hers, moving down to the column of her
throat. He kissed and nipped at her skin playfully, teeth grazing a spot just
underneath her jaw where her pulse fluttered. She trembled, shivering as if she
had been plunged into ice water, although Chelsea’s body was only getting
hotter and hotter as Johan’s fingers twisted and rolled her nipples, sending
jolts of sensation directly to her already-wet pussy. Johan’s tongue swept
against her skin, and Chelsea’s breath caught in her throat as she tilted her
head back, giving him free and ready access to her sensitive skin.

Somehow her shirt disappeared,
falling to the floor before Chelsea could think of what was happening; her bra
followed, and she realized that Johan was leading her through the suite,
half-carrying her in his strong arms as their clothing fell away piece by
piece, trailing after them through the living room. She dragged Johan’s face up
to hers, kissing him hungrily as she let her hands wander over the planes of
his chest and back, exploring the topography of his body as eagerly as she had
the first time they’d had sex. Johan lifted her up into his arms almost
effortlessly, carrying Chelsea the last few steps into the bedroom part of the
hotel suite. He didn’t even bother to close the door behind them, instead
bringing Chelsea directly to the bed and almost throwing her onto the soft,
unbelievably luxurious surface. He reached down, gathering up the fabric of her
skirt in his hands and tugging the waistband sharply down over her hips. “I’ve
been thinking about fucking you all day,” Johan told her, his bright eyes
darkening as he drank in the sight of her.

“We just had sex this morning,”
Chelsea said, chuckling lowly as she squirmed and shifted on the bed, helping
him to remove her skirt as he pulled it down along her legs. He tossed the
garment over his shoulder, not even looking to see where it landed, and the
next moment Chelsea moaned softly in pleasure at the feeling of his body
covering hers as he pinned her to the blankets.

“Ever since then,” Johan
murmured, kissing her hungrily on the lips. His hands left her body, but
Chelsea could feel him moving and shifting on top of her, feel the heat of his
body as he wriggled out of his thick, fitted jeans. Her breath caught in her
throat at the feeling of the hot, hard ridge of his erection pressing against
her, thin layers of fabric the only thing separating her from what she wanted
the most. Johan rocked his hips against hers, rubbing against her, a hot rush
of pleasure flooding through Chelsea as the friction crackled against her
clitoris. Chelsea wrapped her legs around Johan’s waist, pushing down against
him, her hands wandering over his broad back eagerly. No matter how many times
they had had sex—and in how many different locations—Johan’s body was still a
revelation to her, even days later. Chelsea gasped and panted as Johan hooked
his fingers in the elastic waist of her panties, dragging them down off of her
hips. She fumbled at the front of his boxer-briefs, her fingers not quite
catching the waistband, as she shifted and squirmed underneath Johan, hungry to
feel his body against hers.

It seemed like only a moment
later when Chelsea felt the heat and hardness of Johan’s cock brushing against
her slick folds, sending a tingle of sensation through her. He held himself up,
looking down into her face, smiling slightly as he rocked his hips slowly and
steadily, teasing her with the feeling of his cock just barely grazing her,
slipping against her drenched labia. “Do you want it?” he asked her playfully,
pulling his hips back when she pushed down to try and rub herself against him
more thoroughly. Johan’s smile deepened as he evaded her.

“You’re such jerk,” Chelsea
said, her voice taking on a growling note of frustration.

“Answer the question,” Johan
suggested, once more pressing up against her only to withdraw when Chelsea
tried to get better contact. “Tell me you want it, and I’ll give it to you.”
Chelsea squirmed, and Johan caught up her wrists in one hand, lifting her arms
over her head and pinning them there against the mattress. “All you have to do
is ask…” Chelsea groaned in frustration, struggling against his strength. Johan
nipped at her bottom lip, carefully evading her attempts to break the hold on
her wrists, to rub against him.

Chelsea let out a little scream
of frustration, twisting her hips away from him, pouting up at Johan as she
fought against the need that consumed her. “You’re such an asshole,” she told
him, shivering as she felt his cock brush against her yet again. “I’m not going
to do it. You’re not going to make me beg.” Johan chuckled lowly, his lips
dragging against her jaw.

“You’re not patient enough to
hold out, Chelsea,” he murmured lowly, nibbling sharply at the pulse point just
below her ear. Chelsea shuddered, gritting her teeth as she fought against the
absolute need to feel him inside of her. She wasn’t going to give in, she told
herself; she wasn’t going to let him win. Chelsea tried to breathe slowly and
deeply, but every movement brought the warm, sharp-sweet scent of Johan’s body
into her nose, made parts of her body brush against him, sending a thrill of
even deeper need coursing through her.

“Fuck! Fine—yes, yes I want it,”
Chelsea said, panting. “I swear to god if you don’t stop teasing me, I am going
to find some goddamned way to get out from under you and—and—lock myself in the
bathroom.” Johan laughed, bringing his mouth up to hers, kissing her hungrily.
He reached down between their bodies, and Chelsea moaned against his lips as
Johan guided the tip of his cock up against her, rubbing against her clit for
just a moment. He shifted, and Chelsea’s breath caught in her throat as Johan
thrust inside of her slowly, pushing past the initial resistance of her body.
He rocked his hips, the thick, hard heat of his cock rubbing along her inner
walls, filling her up inch by inch as he moved deeper and deeper inside of her.

Johan let go of her wrists,
holding himself up on his elbows, and Chelsea fell into his rhythm, pushing her
hips down to meet his, taking him deeper and deeper. She kissed everywhere her
lips could reach, licking his sweat-salted skin, writhing against his body as
pleasure crackled through her veins like static. Chelsea moaned out as the tip
of Johan’s cock barely brushed against her g-spot, a hot-and-cold jolt of
sensation shocking her. She let her hands explore the planes and contours of
his body, caressing and kneading, as she twisted and shifted her hips
underneath him; every thrust brought his pelvic bones up to rub against her
clit, every third push of his hips made her shiver as the tip of his cock
barely rubbed against the pleasure center inside of her.

They moved together in an
irresistible rhythm, exploring each other’s bodies, touching and tasting, and
Chelsea felt her pleasure mounting every moment as the friction built up
between their bodies. She clung to him in near-desperation, her hips rising and
falling, twisting against his body, her fingernails digging into his shoulders
as she felt herself coming closer and closer to orgasm. “It’s worth it—isn’t
it?” Johan murmured lowly against her lips. “I always make it worth it, don’t
I, Chelsea?” She shook her head, resisting his words even as her body tingled
all over with sensation. Johan pulled her bottom lip between his teeth,
carefully worrying it as they moved together as one, sweat gathering and
slithering over their skin as they both heated up.

Chelsea cried out as Johan began
to thrust into her steadily, the tip of his cock rubbing back and forth against
her pleasure center, every movement of his hips building the friction against
her sensitive clit. She fought to hold back, wanting to savor the pleasure
coursing through her, wanting to deny the subtle, sexual power that Johan had
assumed over her; but in the span of a few heartbeats, she felt the last of her
self-control breaking, and Chelsea shuddered as wave after wave of sensation
worked through her, blanking out all thoughts. She heard Johan murmuring
something in a language she couldn’t understand, heard his breath hitch as her
muscles tightened around him in erratic spasms, but all Chelsea knew was the
pleasure flooding through her. She hit the apex of her climax as Johan’s cock
began to twitch inside of her; the spasms of pleasure had only just begun to
abate as the hot, sticky-slick gush of Johan’s orgasm rushed into her, even as
he let out a long, low groan of pleasure. They moved together mindlessly,
pushing their hips together, touching and clutching at each other, and Chelsea
was only barely aware of her waning orgasm as she slipped into a warm, dark,
humming doze, sagging against the mattress, her arms and legs remote and
nerveless.

****

Hours later, after they had
gotten their things out of the car, Chelsea found her mind once more turning to
the questions that had plagued her earlier. “You should probably visit the
salon here,” Johan suggested, sitting back on the couch while she flipped
through the channels, trying to find something she wanted to watch.

“Hm?” Chelsea glanced at him;
Johan had another book in his hands, and not for the first time she considered
how utterly bizarre it was to think that a guy who carried multiple weapons on
his person as a matter of course, who only had about three or four changes of
clothes in a backpack to his name, somehow also had half a dozen books.

“We’re putting distance between
us and the guys after you,” Johan said, putting the book aside. “But it would
be even easier to evade them if you changed your appearance a little bit.”
Chelsea glanced at him sharply.

“The salon downstairs would
probably cost several hundred dollars,” she said. “And in case you haven’t
noticed, I’m unemployed at the moment.”

Johan smiled. “They charge it to
the room automatically; no need for you to use your card.”

In fact, Chelsea realized that
from the moment they had left her house days before, Johan had paid for
everything, one way or another; usually with cash, when they got gas or food on
the road. “I would go with you, of course. There’s no point in you being
undefended.”

“Just how different could a
salon make me even look?” Chelsea was not entirely sure why she was resisting
the suggestion so much—a mixture of her doubts about Johan, her sense that
everything in her life was changing, an irrational clinginess to one of the few
things that hadn’t changed. Underneath that, there was a little voice in her
mind, a subtle insecurity, that said that Johan didn’t find her very
attractive. Even though he’d had sex with her every day since they’d fled her
apartment, and Johan had told her she was cute, or gorgeous, or beautiful—the
comment he’d made that she should never be permitted to wear more than a towel
came to mind obediently in the man’s low, almost growling murmur—Chelsea had
been plagued with doubts her entire life; no amount of compliment from even a
gorgeous man like Johan was going to undo the years of taunts.

“You would be surprised how much
they can do with a haircut, color, things like that,” Johan said, shrugging.
“Even if they start flashing a picture of you around, most people don’t pay
that much attention to details.” Chelsea worried at her bottom lip, pulling it
between her teeth for a moment while she considered.

“How are you affording this?”
she asked him, putting down the remote to the TV and pinning Johan down with a
level gaze. “The hotels, the cars, the gas? I have never traveled this well in
my life, much less while fleeing people who want to kill me.” Johan shrugged
off the question, looking unconcerned.

“I have an expense account. When
we’re sure they’re not chasing you anymore, I’ll request funds to get you an
apartment, and to get you new documentation—ID, bank account, all that. You’ll
basically be in a kind of witness protection program until Rosen goes to
trial.” Chelsea frowned.

“But who’s paying you? This
isn’t a federal thing—if it was, we’d be staying in cheaper hotels and eating
more fast food.” Shadows flickered across Johan’s bright eyes quickly; so
quickly that Chelsea almost missed it.

“We have funding. You could get
a full makeover in the salon and it would be a drop in the barrel. Don’t worry
about it.” Chelsea brought her tongue up along the roof of her mouth and
clucked it against her teeth.

“Fine, if you want me to change
the way I look, I’ll change the way I look,” she said tartly. “After all, I let
you talk me into destroying my phone, I let you talk me into leaving town, I
let you talk me into eating, sleeping, and fucking on your schedule…” she stood
up quickly as her anger flowed to a sudden flashpoint she hadn’t realized she
was approaching, snatching up the remote control and turning the TV off before
letting the device clatter onto the coffee table once more. Johan’s eyes
widened and her stared at her with something almost like alarm. “Let’s go down
to the salon so they can make me look like a completely different person who
isn’t running away from her entire life!”

Johan stood in a quick, fluid
movement that made Chelsea start. In an instant, it seemed, he was only inches
away from her, looking down into her eyes. “If you don’t want to fuck me, all
you have to do is say no,” he told her lowly. “If you don’t want to sleep, then
don’t sleep. If you don’t want to eat, don’t eat. If you don’t want to go to
the salon, don’t to go.” Johan’s hands dropped to her shoulders, sliding to her
arms. “My only job is to get you away from the people who want to kill you and
keep you safe,” he said, his hands tightening on her slightly. “If you want to
make that harder for me, you are more than welcome to. If you want to sulk and
starve yourself, or if you want to be an insomniac, be my guest.”

“I don’t even know what I’m
running from! I don’t know what I’m running to! All I have is your word that
you’re supposed to protect me. Until what—four days ago?—I had never even met
you before.” Chelsea twisted and pivoted, breaking his hold on her arms and
stepped away from Johan, scowling at him. “I barely know you, I barely know
anything about what is going on in my life, and you keep popping these—these—
suggestions
to me. ‘Let’s have sex to kill time.’ ‘Let’s get rid of your phone.’ ‘Let’s
change your appearance.’ ” Chelsea waved her hands about wildly, feeling the
anger thrumming through her body, the doubts exploding out of her in a torrent.
Everything she had been thinking and yet not letting herself think rose to the
surface of her brain. “I’m fucking terrified, Johan! And you’re just sitting
there, driving the car, or reading a book, or—or—getting me off like nothing is
going on at all. Because you know everything, don’t you?” Chelsea glared at
him. “You probably know the damned size of my underwear.” Johan’s eyes
flickered with amusement, his lips twitching.

“Seven,” he said lightly. Chelsea
inhaled sharply. “I helped you pick up your clothes yesterday.” Her hands
curled into fists, her fingernails digging into the skin of her palms.

“You know what? No. I am
not
going to the salon. I am—” she felt a jolt of fear; she had no idea where she was,
she had no access to the car—at least not as long as Johan had the keys—and she
believed him that there were, in fact, people after her. Where could she
realistically go? “I am going into the bathroom, and I am going to enjoy being
by myself for however long I feel like it.”

“Sure,” Johan said, eyeing her
with a mixture of amusement and irritation. “Like I said, you can sulk if you
want to. Sulk as long as you want to, in fact. Stay in there all night.”
Chelsea let out an irritated little scream, breathing in deeply and staring at
him for a long moment.

“I am locking the fucking door
behind me,” she said, stomping barefoot in the direction of the master
bathroom. Chelsea slammed the door shut behind her, only remembering afterward
to twist the lock on the knob before she threw herself onto the rim of the
bathtub. A sharp jolt of pain shot up from her buttock to remind her that anger
would not make her invulnerable to injury, but Chelsea ignored the lingering
ache, inhaling and exhaling slowly through her nose as her anger died down from
a rolling boil to a simmer.
I am not sulking,
she thought bitterly.
I
need time to myself. I need space. I need to not be in the company of some
gorgeous man who makes me forget that my entire life is in fucking shambles right
now.
Chelsea stood, pain rippling through her buttock and leg as she began
to pace the small floor of the bathroom, unwilling to let go of the irritation
she felt. She was going to stay in the tiny room until she figured some things
out, she told herself. However long that was. Even if it did mean sleeping in
the bathtub.