Bad Boy Romance: Nick (Romantic Suspense Alpha Male Romance) (New Adult Rock Star Contemporary Short Stories) (Hard Rock Star Series Book 2) (65 page)

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“Chelsea,” Johan’s voice came
through the locked bathroom door. “If you want to starve yourself, that’s your
prerogative, but there’s food if you’re hungry.” Chelsea felt her stomach twist
at the mention of food. She
was
hungry. She was also slightly chilly
from the cold tile and porcelain of the bathroom, tired and slightly dizzy from
walking in near-circles for what she estimated had to be over an hour. She
worried her bottom lip, trying to decide if the blow to her pride was worth
leaving the room and eating something, or if she wanted to stand on firm—if
self-defeating—principle, and stay there all night just to show Johan he
couldn’t and wouldn’t control her in any way.
Screw it. I’m hungry, there’s
food, I might as well eat.

When she heard Johan’s steps
retreating from the bathroom door, Chelsea took a deep breath, steeling herself
from any comment he might make about her tantrum. She unlocked the door and
opened it, breathing in the scent of another truly delicious meal. If nothing
else, Chelsea thought, Johan had excellent taste in ordering room service.

The object of her ire was seated
in the living room, busily arranging and uncovering platters and plates,
bottles and glasses and silverware. As she took in the oddly domestic sight,
Chelsea’s eyes widened at the veritable feast of selections: chilled seafood,
something that looked like it might be chocolate mousse, steaming, seared steak
and chicken with crackling skin, buttery roasted potatoes, a crisp Waldorf
salad, fresh strawberries, flaky croissants; so much food that Chelsea wasn’t
certain that it was even remotely possible for them to eat it all. “You know,
if you were trying to calm my fears about where all this money is coming from,
this was not the way to do it,” she said. Johan looked up, casting a smile in
her direction over his shoulder.

“I’m glad you decided to eat,”
he said mildly. “I was trying to come up with a way to slide a plate under the
bathroom door but the gap is so narrow it seemed hopeless.” He gestured for
Chelsea to join him on the couch, unfolding a cloth napkin and placing it a
foot or so away from him.

“Okay,” Chelsea said, gathering
up the napkin and laying it in her lap. Johan took one of the plates and began
filling it with small portions of everything on the table. “Let’s hear all
about how it was stupid and immature of me to throw a temper tantrum.” Johan
glanced at her, barely raising one wheat-colored eyebrow.

“You’re afraid, you’re under
stress, and you’re dealing with a great deal of uncertainty,” Johan said. He
extended the plate towards her utterly piled with delicacies. “It seems fair
that you would want some time alone, even if I can’t give you much space.”
Chelsea felt a ripple of irritation at his reasonable tone of voice.

“Are you a hostage negotiator on
your days off?” she asked, snagging a fork from one of the bundles on the
coffee table. Johan chuckled lowly.

“I have dealt with plenty of
people in a similar position to you.” He began helping himself to the abundance
of food in front of them. “Of course, I haven’t had sex with all of them. And I
don’t think any of them have been as delicious as you are.” He popped a hulled
strawberry into his mouth. “It’s good, you wanting to take control. You’re not
just a helpless victim.” Chelsea pushed around one of the cold shrimp on her
plate, not certain of exactly how she felt about the compliment.

“I think I bruised my tailbone,”
she admitted, smiling wryly.

“If you’re interested, I can examine
your cute ass in detail later,” Johan suggested, his bright eyes warming as he
looked at her. He shrugged, perhaps remembering the part of her diatribe about
having sex with him. “I’m sure a hotel like this has a doctor if you’d prefer a
professional.” Chelsea sighed.

“I want to
not want
to
have sex with you,” she said, narrowing her eyes as she tried to decide whether
or not she had spoken correctly. “I’d really rather not be attracted to you,
but you’re just…” Chelsea chuckled, shaking her head and bringing a bite of
lobster to her lips. “It’s not really fair, you know.” Johan sat back with his
plate, his graze trailing over the lines of her body slowly.

“And it’s fair for me? I have to
focus on keeping you away from bad guys when all I want to do is keep you in
bed all day.” His lips twitched in an amused, slightly lust-tinged smile.
“We’re both dealing with hardships.” Chelsea rolled her eyes, though she could
feel her cheeks—and the rest of her body—heating up at the suggestive tone of
Johan’s words. She turned her attention more fully onto the food in front of
her, tasting everything in quick bites before settling in to really enjoy the
few things that appealed to her the most.

Somehow, they managed to make
their way through most of the astonishing volume of food, and as Johan gathered
up the plates and implements, loading them onto the room service cart, Chelsea
shook her head at the carnage they’d jointly wreaked. “I had no idea I was that
hungry,” she said. Johan’s lips twitched with a smile.

“I thought it might have
contributed to your hair-trigger temper,” he said quietly. “You seem to be more
prone to bad moods when you’re hungry.” Chelsea raised an eyebrow, twisting her
lips into a wry almost-smile as she tried to decide whether it was condescending
or merely matter-of-fact.

“Yeah, well,” she said finally,
picking at imaginary lint on the couch cushion she sat on. “We’re ready to move
past that, I hope?” Johan guided the room service cart to the door of the suite
and flashed a grin at her.

“I wouldn’t want to be accused
of being controlling or unfair,” Johan said, opening the door and pushing the
cart through it. He locked the door as it fell shut, turning to face Chelsea
and leaning against the doorframe. Chelsea rolled her eyes, pressing her lips
together to suppress the smile that threatened to form, trying to hold onto her
irritation at Johan. She decided that it wasn’t worth it; Johan was gorgeous,
and she knew from experience that he was extremely good in bed. She didn’t
think that spending the night on the couch, or in the bathroom, was a very
appealing option.

“I’m not going to the salon,”
she said, crossing her arms over her chest. Johan shrugged, watching her with
an odd mixture of calm and intensity. Chelsea felt more like an antelope under
the surveillance of a lion than the object of Johan’s protection.

“Don’t go if you don’t want to
go,” he replied evenly. Chelsea groaned, sliding inelegantly lengthwise on the
couch.

“You know, it’s kind of annoying
that you keep being so—so—
agreeable
,” she said, looking up at the
ceiling. “It’s irritating as hell that you’re not trying to either console me
or bully me or...” she pressed her lips together, trying to think of what it
was she wanted from him.

“Well you put the kibosh on
trying to seduce you; you don’t need comforting, and you made it clear how you
feel about bullying.” Chelsea closed her eyes, feeling her irritation rising.
Before she could make a reply, she heard a soft, distant noise. Chelsea opened
her eyes and turned her head just in time to see Johan approaching her,
striding in quick, decisive steps across the room. He sank down into a crouch
just inches away from her in front of the couch. “Or maybe you weren’t really
telling the truth with all your indignation about—how did you say it? ‘Fucking
on my schedule?’ ” Johan’s voice dropped lower, and in spite of her irritation,
Chelsea felt her body start to tingle, start to warm up. “Did you want me to
see if you bruised yourself?” His hand barely brushed against her hip, and Chelsea
shivered. She bit her bottom lip.

“Fine,” she said, even as her
heart started beating faster in her chest. She blushed, slightly embarrassed at
the fact that she had injured herself in the adult equivalent of a temper
tantrum, and turned over gracelessly on her stomach. Johan’s fingers brushed
against her skin lightly as he lifted up her skirt, as he gently—gently—tugged
her panties down over the curve of her buttocks. Chelsea heard a sharp intake
of breath.

“You definitely bruised
yourself,” Johan said, his warm fingers trailing in a line from one side of her
hip to the other. “You probably won’t be comfortable sitting in the car all day
tomorrow.” Chelsea shivered as his touch lingered against her tender, bruised
skin, squirming slightly in a mixture of discomfort and—oddly—desire. She was
almost as embarrassed at the cause of her injury as she was at the fact that
Johan’s light touch was beginning to turn her on. “What a shame.” She heard
Johan clucking his tongue against his teeth as he continued to caress her.
Chelsea turned her head, looking at him over her shoulder.

“I think you’ve exhausted the
potential for staring at my ass that comes with examining the bruise,” she
said, biting her bottom lip. Johan smiled unabashedly, his fingers withdrawing.

“What do you want to do about
it? I’m sure you’re in a lot of pain.” Chelsea chuckled, shaking her head in
disbelief. “I mean—I’m reliably informed that sex is an excellent pain
reliever, but finding the right position could be a challenge, and then there’s
the fact that you don’t want to want to have sex with me…” Chelsea scrambled up
onto one elbow, using her other hand to cuff Johan on the shoulder.

“You are such an asshole
sometimes,” she said. Johan tilted his head to the side slightly, not even reacting
to the smack she had delivered, and his hand slid against her sensitive skin
once more, cupping the curve of her buttocks.

“I think the fall must have
scrambled your brain; the asshole is closer to here.” Johan gave her buttocks a
careful squeeze and Chelsea gasped; the little twinge of pain from the bruising
just above his hand was nothing compared to the rush of sensuality she felt
flowing through her. Johan grinned at her as if he understood her predicament
entirely. “We could watch TV and I could see if the front desk has some
aspirin,” he suggested innocently.

“Ugh.” Chelsea squirmed away
from him, dragging herself up off of her stomach and wincing as the movement of
sitting up put more pressure on her bruise. “Fine! I want to have sex with
you.” Johan chuckled, his gaze meeting hers.

“You’ll feel better afterward,”
he pointed out, leaning in close to her. Chelsea started to retort, but Johan
brushed his lips against hers, his hands beginning to come alive on her body,
stroking and caressing her. He peeled off her clothes quickly, letting them
fall to the couch, to the floor, and Chelsea broke away from Johan’s lips as
she felt him lift her up carefully, rising from his crouch and settling her
body against his.

He carried her into the bedroom
of the suite, carefully laying Chelsea down onto the bed. Johan looked down at
her hungrily; before she could prompt him, however, he had already begun to
strip off his clothes, hauling his tee shirt over his head and casting it
aside, quickly unbuckling his belt. In a matter of moments, he was pushing his
boxers down over his hips, revealing the slim, muscled body Chelsea had come to
enjoy so much. She took in the sight of his lean hips, his broad chest with its
scattering of wheat-colored hair, the muscled thighs, and the hard, proudly
erect cock just above.

Johan climbed into the bed with
her, carefully arranging himself next to her as he let his hands wander and
trail over Chelsea’s body slowly. He cupped her jaw, shifting on the bed next
to her, and kissed her hungrily. Chelsea moaned as his hand fell away, slipping
along the lines of her body, down between her legs. Johan’s other arm slid
underneath her, shifting Chelsea onto her side to face him, holding her body
close. Johan cupped her already-wet folds in his palm, his fingers brushing up
and down along her labia. “If I take you like this,” Johan murmured, barely
breaking his lips away from hers, “I think we can keep from hurting your poor,
injured ass.” Chelsea chuckled breathlessly, gasping as Johan’s fingers pressed
more deeply against her folds, as he stroked and rubbed her up and down
teasingly.

“I’ll—I’ll take your word for
it,” Chelsea said. Johan’s fingers retreated and she groaned in frustrated
desire; but the next moment, as he kissed her again, she felt Johan’s hand
moving along her leg, felt him moving and shifting her. One of her legs draped
over his hip, her foot barely touching the mattress beyond him, and while she
could feel the flicker of tension along her bruise, the appealing feeling of
his cock brushing against her slick folds soon distracted her. Johan held her
tightly, cradling her body against his, and Chelsea moaned as he thrust into
her, filling her up quickly, his thick, hard cock rubbing against her inner
walls.

Chelsea’s pleasure mounted
quickly as they moved together, kissing and touching and rocking their hips,
twisting and writhing on the bed. Hot and cold tingles of pleasure coursed
through her; the way her body was draped over and wedged against Johan’s meant
that every movement brought friction to bear on her clit, crackling sensations
shooting through her to compete with the sharper, hotter pleasure of Johan’s
cock filling her up over and over again. “This—was a good—idea,” she said,
panting, barely breaking away from Johan’s lips. Johan chuckled lowly, taking
advantage of the position to play with her breasts, cupping and squeezing them,
teasing her nipples with his fingertips. His mouth traveled all over her, it
seemed, kissing and nipping, sucking and licking as they both moved faster and
faster together, falling into a rhythm that neither could resist. Chelsea
gasped and shivered as Johan’s cock brushed up against her g-spot steadily, the
tip rubbing along her inner walls to press her pleasure center with almost
every movement of his hips.

Somehow Johan was shifting her
around, even as they continued to move together, even as he thrust deeper and
deeper inside of her, and Chelsea found herself on top of him, straddling his
waist. Johan’s hands rested on her hips, slid up to her breasts, and Chelsea
rode him hard and fast, taking him deeper, moaning and crying out in pleasure
as she came closer and closer to orgasm. Johan sat up slightly, pulling her by
the shoulders down against him, kissing her hungrily, and as their bodies
rubbed together, Chelsea couldn’t hold back any longer; the last of her
self-control dissolved as every muscle in her body flexed and then released,
wave after wave of pleasure washing through her, obliterating any thought of
pain or fear. She barely heard Johan’s moans of pleasure as her inner walls
flexed around him, but as he reached his own climax, the hot stickiness of his
come rushing into her, her climax intensified. Chelsea barely held herself up
as Johan managed a few final hard, fast thrusts, before she collapsed against
him, panting and gasping for breath.