Breathe for Me (Be for Me 1: Xander) Page 14

  “You can’t?”

  Xander laughed at her high-pitched disappointment. “No, definitely can’t. A princess has to remain pure.”

  “Oh.” Chelsea managed to pout and reached out to stroke him in kind.

  “You are going to test every ounce of my control.” Xander smiled through gritted teeth.

  “Yes I am.”

  “But your servant is going to resist.”

  “Is he?” She giggled and squirmed again. “So what does he do?”

  “He tells you to lie back and he’ll show you how your body ought to be used. What it’s built for.”

  “He’s going to penetrate me with the vibe though, isn’t he?”

  Xander just laughed.

  Kissed her breast. He nibbled on her nipple and then soothed the sting with his lips and tongue. A gentle suck and drag. She wanted more. She wanted harder. “You’re such a tease.”

  “Pleasure has to be drawn out, Princess.”

  “Why?”

  “To maximize it. Make it intense.”

  It already was intense with the hum of the machine against her clit. The rhythmic licks of his tongue across her entrance. She was squirming so much.

  “Lie still or I’ll stop.”

  How the hell was she supposed to lie still when he kept up that insane torture?

  He knelt above her, moving even as he kept intimately kissing her. She reached out and took his cock in her hand, hoping to stoke him into faster action.

  In response he nibbled and sucked harder, made her arch closer.

  “Please, please, please.” She was begging and she didn’t care. She wanted him to finish her off. She was so, so close and it was killing her. She rubbed him faster.

  At that moment he stopped and pressed the vibrator against the fingers of her other hand so she curled them around it.

  “Okay,” he invited. “You have a toy in each hand. Your choice. What are you going to do? Which is better?”

  She kept a firm grip on them both, the vibrator lubed and humming in her hand and him—hot, hard velvet. Her choice.

  Passion erupted. She so knew what she was going to do. She wriggled quickly. Positioning herself flat on the bed, letting her head tip back almost over the edge of the mattress. She opened her mouth and sucked him in. At the same time she pushed the vibrator into herself. She clamped on it—at the strangeness. Oh it was good.

  There was a startled shout from him, then a groan. His hips jerked involuntarily and he thrust a little too far.

  She reached back, smashed her hands on his butt and kept him there.

  “You are a constant revelation.” He muttered. “Hell, Chelsea.”

  She laughed, the sound smothered.

  He reached down and worked the vibe for her, matching the rhythm with the suck and drag of her mouth on his cock. And then he bent further over her and sucked on her clit.

  Oh sweet mercy, the sensations were so insane she hurtled straight into orgasm. Her hands clenched on his hips, ramming him deeper into her throat, muffling her screams through her shudders.

  She heard his pleased, soft laughter as she returned back from the brink and tilted her head back to look at him. He was still hard. She’d wanted him to come in her mouth. She wanted him as out of control as she’d just been. But he hadn’t. Now he moved. He slid the vibrator from her body, tossing it to the side and pushing his cock in its place.

  She groaned at the feel of him. She was slippery, more than ready, but even so, he filled her to capacity.

  “You have the most amazing mouth. It fits me perfectly. You fit me.” He kissed her, his tongue stroking the way his cock had only moments before. Deep, rhythmic. Demanding. As he drove deep inside her the urgency for release coiled within her again.

  “The vibe has its place,” he muttered. “But nothing beats this.”

  She smiled at him.

  For a moment all fantasy was gone—there was her and him. No princess, no servant, no toy. No game. Just Xander. He looked down at her with a twist to his lips that couldn’t possibly be tender and caring. But it was. His kiss more so.

  Even as she came, Chelsea knew she was in trouble.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Xander stayed in Chelsea’s bed the entire night. Usually he crawled out at some point, dragging himself back to his apartment for the remainder of the night. After he’d had sex with her again. But this time he failed to summon the energy or will to leave. He was finally breaking through her defenses. She’d taken action last night—played with the toy as he’d wanted her to. She’d decided. She’d teased, laughed, talked dirty right back at him. Having her watch waterpolo had been good, the restaurant better, their bed play after—brilliant.

  Only now he wanted yet more—to have her truly take the lead. To open right up to him and tease him hard out the way he suspected she would if she could let herself go. He couldn’t walk away until he’d achieved that.

  But more than that, he wanted to know her. Not just physically.

  He woke before she did. He watched her sleeping deeply and dreamlessly. No nightmare. He drew in a satisfied breath. She was curled, facing towards him. Beautiful, warm and snugly. He ached for her to wake, but didn’t want to disturb her rest. Lazily he reached for his phone and checked some emails. He hoped she’d stir soon. But then her phone vibrated and emitted that tinkling tune.

  “Oh hell,” she mumbled, reluctantly rolling to her back. “Sorry.” She didn’t even look at him as she turned away to grab the phone and get out of bed. “Hey Mom. Yeah. No. I’m good.”

  Her voice faded as she wandered into the other room. “I just slept in.”

  He lay in bed a few minutes longer, giving her the privacy to take her call. It was clear she wanted that space. Interesting that her mother called so often—that Chelsea was constantly required to assert her wellness. And yet close as they were, she wasn’t telling her mother everything.

  He smothered a snort. It shouldn’t bother him that she hadn’t told her mom she was with a guy. What did he expect her to say—‘don’t call so early Mom, I’m tired from having so much sex’?

  So not gonna happen. Not from more-private-than-a-porcupine Chelsea Greene. She was all about keeping her life compartmentalized, that was clear.

  So getting to know all of her wasn’t going to be easy. Good thing he knew how to work hard.

  He didn’t get the wake-up sex he’d craved—couldn’t take advantage of the ground he’d gained the night before. Her call took too long, he had meetings to get to. But halfway through the day he found he couldn’t concentrate on work any more. He’d had a call from his engineer to go back and help him out on the independent cinema project in Houston.

  Xander didn’t want to go. He frowned at his own reaction. That was a first. He never let anything distract him from work, certainly not a woman. He pushed back from his desk and went outside for some fresh air. Ended up catching a cab on a whim.

  He got out of the cab. A brightly colored coffee cart was parked to one side of the entrance of the equally vibrant building. Xander read the sign in the lobby and took the elevator to the fourth floor.

  “Can you tell me where I might find Chelsea Greene?” He asked the receptionist.

  “Sure, follow me.”

  Xander followed, glancing round the small open plan office as she led him through it. No sign of the one he wanted. The girl paused and frowned. “This is her desk, she shouldn’t be far—”

  “You just missed her. She’s just gone down to grab coffee.” A guy came over. “I’m Steve.”

  Xander nodded, trying not to glare at the hippie dude with shoulder length hair and collection of leather ties round his wrists. Doubtless he was another intern, and Xander couldn’t possibly be jealous of him getting to spend his workdays with Chelsea. He turned to study the drawings pinned on the chest-high partition around Chelsea’s desk. Some were plans, some were ‘artist impressions’ and some were just art. Wow. He bent to study one closer. He’d not seen any
of these in her apartment, but then that place was crazy full of small herbs. But her work was something else. The woman could really draw.

  “She’s so talented.” The Steve guy commented. “Really creative.”

  Xander tensed. Yeah, he wanted to see more of her ‘creativity.’ Damn, he needed to stop constantly thinking about sex. Except it wasn’t really sex he was thinking about. It was Chelsea. All about Chelsea.

  Discomfort flared in his chest. He really shouldn’t be here. He turned.

  “Oh.”

  She was right there, steaming keep-cup in hand.

  “What are you doing here?” She asked. She blushed and sent a quick sideways glance towards Steve. But Xander knew she was pleased to see him, he caught the spark in her eyes. That tight feeling in his chest eased.

  “Checking out what you do all day.” He shrugged, aiming to lighten his own mood further. “Whether you really are going to do something with all that greenery in your apartment.”

  “Really?” She laughed. “You really want to see?”

  He nodded, genuinely interested. With an almost shy smile she showed him some of the projects she’d been studying. Examples of temporary installations and structures in cities where some kind of catastrophe had occurred. Earthquakes, floods, storms.

  “People do interesting things in the spaces left after destruction. It can lead to regeneration, growth,” she said. “And I think people have a need for something beautiful too see them through the interim, right? Before the rebuild really begins. Because that can take so long.”

  “Sure,” he nodded. “Maybe.”

  “Better to grow some wildflowers than weeds,” she said softly.

  “You could leave the land barren.” Why put something in if it was only for a short time?

  She shook her head. “Nature will always fill a space. She’ll always reclaim what was once hers. So let’s work with her and make it nice in the meantime.”

  That was Chelsea, he mused. She’d been—partly—destroyed. And now she was filling the space the way she wanted—with her work, her desire to live alone. And her call to be an independent, sexually satisfied woman without the need for a long term, intimate relationship. But nature—natural instinct—would reclaim the space eventually. This was only her transition phase. She’d want a family eventually, most people did.

  Except not him. He was too damaged. Wild flowers couldn’t grow when the weeds were this thick.

  “So.” He looked at the plans for her project. “You’re going sell pizza from a temporary takeout parlour made from basil plants.”

  “That’s pretty much the deal, yeah.” She smiled at him.

  “It seems a really big effort for something so temporary.” He looked at her bright eyed, beautiful face.

  “Everything is only temporary.” She repinned one of her design pictures that was hung crooked. “Nothing lasts.”

  “Some of our buildings have been around since the dinosaurs.”

  “You exaggerate,” she half snorted. “And you know, most of these buildings won’t be standing in another thousand years. Temporary is the whole point.”

  Xander frowned at the way that slipped so easily from her tongue. “You’re going to need some kind of security set-up.”

  Now she frowned. “No I won’t.”

  “What about the middle of the night?”

  “New York never sleeps, right?”

  “You’ll get people ripping off all your salad leaves. Or worse, some drunk idiot will decide to use the pots as a pee vessel.”

  “Gross.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I can’t afford security for it.”

  He grinned. “I can help you out there.”

  Chelsea hesitated, trying to think of an answer, but amused by the direction of his thoughts. He came across so wholesome, totally looked the all-round good guy. A lifeguard of all things, and with his wicked arrogant humor, he was all sunshine and success. And yet there was this dark side. She’d noticed the way he religiously checked her door. Surreptitiously but reliably he assessed for danger, seeking the spaces where a thief, an intruder could enter, always glanced around at exits when entering places. Why was he always on the alert for something not being right?

  “What, you don’t want to accept my help?” he prompted at her silence.

  “No.” She shook her head. She didn’t want his help on this. “But thank you anyway.”

  He didn’t look pleased. “If I was an anonymous donor to the institute, would you accept the help then?” he folded his arms across his chest.

  “That would be different.”

  “So it’s because you know me that you don’t want my help?” he asked, his voice dropping in volume but sharpening. “Is it because I’m sleeping with you?”

  “I just don’t want this to become complicated.” She looked away from his piercing gaze.

  Why was he here right now? Why had she felt that rush of pleasure at seeing him here—showing him?

  Because his eyes had lit up as he turned and seen her. That tantalizing smile had twitched at the corners of his way too kissable mouth.

  Maybe he was right. Maybe she had turned into a nympho. She thought about him too much—always about what they’d done the night before. It flashed into her mind now, and unable to resist, she looked at him again.

  His smile reappeared the second she did, chasing away the somber look in his eyes. “There’s no time,” he muttered into her ear. “I have a meeting to get to.”

  Her thoughts had been written all over her face? Burning with embarrassment, she glanced over Steve, but he was busy back in front of his computer screen.

  “Why are you here—really?” She turned back to Xander.

  “I wanted to tell you I’m not coming to see you tonight. I’m on my way to the airport. I’ll be away a few days.”

  Chelsea’s stomach lurched. “Oh. Okay.” Disappointment slammed into her like a bus hitting a bug. She was going to miss him. Not just the sex. But him. She turned to walk him back to the elevator, trying not to panic at the deep emotion roiling inside.

  “Well, safe travels then, huh?” She dragged out a smile.

  His hand too-briefly clasped hers. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

  She bit her lip to stop from asking when—to the second—that would be.

  So much for not complicated.

  Chapter Fourteen

  She decided Xander’s absence was good. Training, right? It’d help keep things in perspective. Stop her getting too involved. Except she kept thinking about him. She struggled to get to sleep, her body wanted him while her mind whirred in circles. She wanted to talk to him—to joke and laugh.

  When she did finally fall asleep the nightmares came. She suffered through the same one as always but a variant sometimes alternated. In the darkness she was searching, searching, desperately trying to find him—a faceless, tall, broad shadow.

  She had to find him. To save him. To love him.

  But she’d lost him. She was alone.

  Three long, restless nights went by and she didn’t get nearly enough sleep in any of them. This was way worse than those few days after the first time they’d slept together when she was worried about seeing him again.

  This was lonely. She faked her way through her phonecalls with her mom. She distracted herself by talking to Luisa about the pizza project. And she buried herself—almost literally—in her work. On Saturday afternoon as she prepped the plants for the pop-up walls, there was a knock on her door.

  She checked the peephole. It was both a dream come true and her worst nightmare. Why did he have to turn up looking so damn sexy when she was head to toe covered in dirt?

  Just as he was about to knock again, she opened the door.

  “How was your trip?” she asked, stepping into the doorway and trying to hide her smeared hands behind her back.

  “Successful,” he grinned. “I enjoyed it.”

  Had he? She swallowed.

&nb
sp; “What’s going on in your head?” He angled his head, his gaze narrowing on her. One eye brow flickered. “Are you wondering what else I got up to?”

  She hadn’t wanted to think about that at all. But in those small hours, when the night was darkest and she was in a cold sweat, then yeah—she’d been thinking all kinds of nasty.

  “We probably should have established the rest of the boundaries, right?” She swallowed again. “For when you’re away.” She was determined to be mature. “How about ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’?”

  Shock, followed by anger flashed on his face. “No. No one else. Not for me. Not for you.”

  Relief flooded her system so violently her legs weakened. “Okay.” She leaned against the doorjamb, still blocking him from entering.

  “Not okay.” He eyeballed her some more. “While I’m with you there is no other guy.” He drew in a sharp breath. “Was there?”

  “No.” Of course not. The thought was sickening.

  “No one. Understand?”

  She nodded. He really didn’t need to emphasize it. She wasn’t the one most likely, whereas the total stud that he was? He’d have been fending them off in the hotel lobby.

  His expression lightened fractionally. “You want to know how I spent my evenings?”

  She nodded.

  His voice dropped. “I spent every one alone in my room dreaming up new scenarios for you.”

  She touched her tongue to her lips.

  “Holding your breath again?” His chuckle warmed her cheek. “Baby, you’ve got to learn to breathe. In fact, you’ve got to learn to…”

  She waited for him to finish the sentence. But he didn’t.

  “I tapped out so many text messages to you,” he said instead. “Didn’t send one.”

  “Why not?”

  He didn’t answer. He seemed to be waiting for something.

  Chelsea watched him. Waiting. Aching for him to touch her. Surely he knew it—couldn’t he sense how her limbs were trembling? Couldn’t he smell her arousal in the small space between them?