Bad Boy Romance: Nick (Romantic Suspense Alpha Male Romance) (New Adult Rock Star Contemporary Short Stories) (Hard Rock Star Series Book 2) (67 page)

****

“Chelsea, you should get up long
enough to eat something.” Chelsea groaned, burrowing deeper into the warm, soft
pillows and blankets that surrounded her in protest.

“Eating is for suckers,” she proclaimed,
raising her voice to be heard over the muffling effect of the bed linens.
“Sleep is where it’s at.” She heard Johan laugh, and felt the blankets pulling
away from her, felt Johan’s strong hands tugging aside the sheets, the pillows,
she had cocooned herself in shortly after the Vicodin had begun to take effect.
She groaned again in frustration, trying futilely to pull them back.

“If you want to take another
Vicodin, you need to eat something or you’re going to puke all over the nice
clean bed and I’m not cleaning it up,” Johan said firmly.

“But if I eat there will be more
to puke,” Chelsea pointed out. She gave up on the idea of sleep, letting Johan
pry the sheets and blankets out of her hands until she lay, fully exposed and
completely naked, looking up at him. “You’re mean,” she said, sticking her
tongue out as she crossed her arms over her chest. The pressure sent a jolt of
pain from the site of her bruised rib and Chelsea winced.

“I let you sleep for six hours.
You need to eat something, take a bath, and take another Vicodin.”

“Wait, wait,” Chelsea said,
frowning. “You’re hurt too, you can’t just stay up and—what have you been doing
for the past six hours?” Johan smiled.

“There was a marathon of
Bones
on TV,” he told her. “I took a little nap. I’m not as badly injured as you.”
Johan frowned slightly. “Maybe I should have given you the gun and kept the
knife for myself.”

“They would’ve just killed you,”
Chelsea pointed out, shrugging. “Okay, I’ll eat, and all that other stuff. I’m
feeling a little bit better anyway.” She carefully pulled herself up, grunting
as pain flared up in her various injuries; she could easily believe it had been
six hours—the Vicodin she had taken within minutes of arriving at the hotel was
starting to wear off.

“Before you go off into
painkiller mode again,” Johan said, helping her out of the bed and leading
Chelsea into the living room area of their suite, “we need to discuss a few
things.” The room was every bit as luxurious as the ones they had stayed in
before—but the hotel was obviously more secure; Johan had apparently learned
from his mistake, or the person masterminding their flight from the people
pursuing Chelsea had.

“Like what?” Chelsea cinched the
sash of her robe tightly around her waist and sat down slowly on the couch. She
looked over the food that Johan had ordered them with real interest; the hotel
had three chefs masterminding the room service menu, and Johan had apparently
opted for the Asian fusion specialties. There was a selection of sushi, some
noodles, a big bowl of fried rice, and other things that Chelsea couldn’t
identify; but which looked absolutely mouthwatering.

“I’m fairly certain that there’s
no one after us right this moment,” Johan said, beginning to serve Chelsea from
the various bowls, plates, and tureens on the table. “I killed everyone who
showed up at the hotel. Or—excuse me, everyone but the one you stabbed to
death.” Johan gave her a quick smile. “Our benefactor is smoothing things over
with the local police, but we’ll likely have to fill out some paperwork.”

“Okay, so we can stay here for a
little while, I take it?” Johan shrugged.

“For a few days, maybe,” he
said. “I doubt your CEO is going to just let us go after that business. He’s
gotten himself in far too deeply—now not only will he face charges for
embezzlement, drug running, and fraud, but also conspiracy to commit murder.
He’s going to be put away for life if he can’t get rid of the evidence.”

“The evidence being me,” Chelsea
said, sighing. She picked at her food, suddenly feeling as though her stomach
had been coated in lead.

“Eat. You can’t have any more
Vicodin until you eat.” Johan served himself and ate a few bites quickly,
giving Chelsea a moment to absorb what he’d told her. “The important thing is
that we need to stay ahead. You’re going to have a new identity in a few days,
and then…” Johan licked his lips, setting his plate down on his lap to look at
her. “You’re going to have to be okay with the idea of living with me for a few
months while we wait for this to go to trial.” Chelsea put down her fork and
stared at him for a moment.

“So even with a new ID, a new
life…I still won’t be safe.” Johan smiled slightly, his eyes regretful.

“Not until your CEO is behind
bars,” he said. Johan set his plate aside and leaned forward, brushing his lips
against Chelsea’s. “So I will be living with you until the end of the trial.”

“How do you know I’ll be safe
then?” Chelsea asked, anxiety beginning to prickle and tingle through the last
dregs of drug-induced euphoria.

“Very shortly thereafter, you’ll
be as safe as you can possibly be. If you want me out of your life then, I’ll
go peacefully.” Johan’s lips twitched in a smile.

“Onto another cute girl to
protect?” Chelsea asked him, raising an eyebrow. “What if I don’t want you out
of my life then?” Johan’s eyes widened slightly, his gaze trailing over her
body slowly.

“I’ve got some skills,” he said,
almost absently. “I could get a job somewhere.” Chelsea set her plate down,
startled by the comment.

“Would you want that?” Chelsea
asked. She couldn’t imagine Johan in any other lifestyle than the one he’d been
leading with her over the past week or so they had been on the run. “I mean—you
seem to like—whatever it is you call this job.” Johan smiled slightly,
shrugging.

“It’s a good living,” Johan
admitted, taking up his plate once more. “It’s exciting.” He glanced at her
once more. “But then, it’s been pretty exciting with you.” Chelsea chuckled,
taking another bite of her noodles.

“We’ve also been on the run.”
Johan shook his head.

“Even without that. You’re an
exciting, unpredictable woman. I think you could keep me guessing enough to
make up for no longer being shot at or chased.” Chelsea laughed out loud,
grabbing at her ribcage as the movement sent pain through her. “Finish your
food, woman. We’ll dose you up with drugs and before they kick in, we’ll make
love.”

“I thought I was supposed to get
a shower,” Chelsea said.

“I can handle you in a shower.
Remember?” Chelsea bit her bottom lip, her body beginning to heat up, her skin
tingling with the first stirrings of desire. She had missed the ready
opportunities for sex with Johan more than she would have thought—more than she
would have admitted to herself. Chelsea picked up a piece of sushi and ate it
quickly, holding her body as still as possible so as not to jar her injuries.
Suddenly the desire for more sleep and more pain relief took a back seat to a
few hours’ passion with Johan.

They finished the meal, and
Johan gathered up the plates, platters, and everything else, trundling the cart
out to the door of the suite before returning to Chelsea’s side. “Is it
terrible of me that one of the things I’ve missed most while we were separated
was the ability to fuck your brains out whenever we got bored?” Chelsea tried
to stifle the laugh that bubbled up inside of her at the frank question,
knowing it would only bring pain.

“I was just thinking,” Chelsea
said, as Johan carefully moved closer to her, draping his arm around her waist
to cradle her against him as he leaned in to kiss her lightly on the lips.
“That I had really missed the stress relief.” Johan nibbled at her bottom lip
playfully, his hands moving over her body slowly, gently caressing.

“We’ll have to be careful,”
Johan murmured. “But I think we can manage to relieve your stress without
hurting you worse.” Chelsea rolled her eyes, draping her arms around his broad
shoulders, deepening the kiss for a long moment.

“Screw not hurting me worse,”
Chelsea said as she pulled back slightly.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Johan murmured,
tugging at the sash of her robe. “I am supposed to be taking care of you. I’m
supposed to keep you safe and at least mostly intact.”

“Mostly?”

Johan chuckled lowly. “I already
failed at ‘perfectly’ intact,” he told her. Johan lifted her carefully up off
of the couch, her robe falling off of her shoulders and onto the floor. He
carried her through the living room, past the bedroom, and into the bathroom.
“It’s a good thing this room has a nice, large tub,” Johan remarked, settling
Chelsea on the lip of the bathtub. He twisted the knobs, testing the water that
came out with his fingers a few times, and then dropped the plug in the drain.

“How is this going to help?”
Chelsea asked, glancing down at the water filling the tub doubtfully.

“You’ll see,” Johan said,
grinning confidently. He stood, stripping out of his clothes in quick, deft
movements, and for the first time since she met with him, Chelsea was able to
see the extent of his injuries: the long line of stitches along his upper
thigh, the bruising along his hip, his chest, his arms and legs, a few obvious
marks, bandaged, that Chelsea thought were either bullet grazes or other,
shallower cuts. Having a gun in his hand had prevented Johan from greater
injuries, but he hadn’t come out unscathed. Johan gathered Chelsea into his
arms, holding her gently. “I think we can find a way, don’t you?” He lifted her
once again, climbing over the lip of the tub as it filled. Johan settled
Chelsea on his lap, and she hissed—pleasure mingled with pain—as the hot water
flowed around her.

Johan’s hands drifted over her
body slowly, caressing and stroking. “We should order you ice packs,” he
murmured, one hand slipping down between her legs. Chelsea gasped, shivering
slightly as his warm fingers slid up and down along her labia, feather-light,
only slightly more substantial than the water. She could feel Johan’s cock
beginning to stir against her back as his other hand cupped her breast, teasing
her nipple into a firm nub.

“Are—are you sure we can do
this?” Chelsea asked, her breath catching in her throat as she began to shift
and twist on top of Johan’s body, desire welling up inside of her.

“Mmhmm,” Johan murmured,
dragging his lips along the side of her neck as his fingers slid up and down
between her labia, his hand spreading her legs just slightly. “I’m going to
take you just like this. Nice and slow.” Johan’s fingers found Chelsea’s clit
by touch, and Chelsea gasped, shivering, as his touch sent jolts of pleasure
through her nerves. He pressed her body against his, rocking his hips against
the curve of Chelsea’s ass, and Chelsea could feel his cock hardening faster.

Johan’s fingers withdrew from
her vulva, and Chelsea let out a groan of disappointment, grabbing at his hand
instinctively. Johan chuckled, lifting her uninjured leg up and out of the
water. He carefully rested it along the lip of the tub, shifting her around on
his lap. “Lean forward just a little bit,” Johan murmured. Chelsea did, and she
felt the tip of Johan’s cock brushing against her labia, working its way in
between. Johan pushed down on her hips, thrusting up at the same moment, and
Chelsea moaned out in pleasure as he slid into her slowly.

As soon as he was fully inside
of her, Johan pulled Chelsea back once more, and she shivered, loving the feel
of him slowly sliding along her inner walls, the tip of his cock pressing and
brushing steadily against her pleasure center. “All you have to do is float,”
Johan murmured, one hand drifting down between her legs once more to stroke and
tease her clit while he worked his hips underneath her, thrusting up. His other
hand cupped and teased her breasts, rolling and twisting her nipples as they
moved together. Chelsea felt her pleasure mounting more and more—she was
shocked at how good it felt, at how well they fit together, at the way the
water swirled around her as Johan pushed deeper and deeper inside of her.

Chelsea arched against Johan,
moaning out as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her body. She
grabbed at his arms, his legs underneath her, and as their movements together
became more frantic, she could barely hear the water sloshing in the tub,
spilling out onto the floor. Chelsea threw her head back against Johan’s
shoulder as her orgasm intensified, as she felt his body tensing underneath
hers, and he joined her in climax, groaning something in his native Swedish.
They both moved until the last of their spasms of pleasure abated, and Chelsea
sagged against Johan, spent and satisfied.

****

The next morning, Chelsea
awakened to the smell of breakfast wafting into the bedroom from the living
room area of the suite. She realized she was alone in the bed, and sat up
carefully, holding her hand against the bruised rib to minimize the pain. After
their tryst in the bathtub, Johan had carefully lifted her up and out of the
water, gave her another Vicodin, and ordered ice packs.

She had struggled to keep from
laughing at the big, strong mercenary bodyguard as he played nurse, taking the
throw pillows off of the couch and positioning them so that her knee and ankle
were elevated, bringing her water when she got thirsty, insisting that Chelsea
shouldn’t get up for any reason. Under the humming, cottony influence of the
pain killers, Chelsea hadn’t even felt the slightest self-consciousness when
Johan carried her into the bathroom to use the toilet, waiting politely just on
the other side of the door.

His lack of presence nearby made
her irritated in some way that Chelsea couldn’t quite put a finger on. She
carefully leaned over the edge of the bed to retrieve the braces that the
hospital had given her and strapped them around her ankle and knee. Chelsea
took a deep breath and slowly climbed out of the bed, trying to bend and twist
as little as possible, putting her weight on her uninjured leg.

She grabbed up her bathrobe and
limped into the living room area, where she found Johan, seated near the patio
to their room, talking on his phone. A few feet away, Chelsea took in the sight
of an extensive—and, she had no doubt, expensive—room service breakfast with
pancakes, bacon, eggs, fruit, yogurt, toast…more things than she could imagine
even the two of them being able to consume in one sitting. Johan glanced up and
flashed a quick smile in her direction, holding up a finger to indicate he was
nearly done with whomever he was speaking to. Still feeling slightly
irritable—slightly hung over from the pain pills leaving her system, with dull,
aching throbs echoing through her body—Chelsea sat down gracelessly on the
couch, propping up her injured leg along the length of the furniture.

“I have good news,” Johan said
as he tapped his screen to end the call. Chelsea raised an eyebrow.

“Someone killed the CEO of my
company so now I can go back to having a normal life?” She paused and added,
“At least, a normal unemployed life until I can get another job?” Johan smiled
wryly and shook his head.

“Almost as good. My client has
your new paperwork, and he got us an apartment. Do you think you can manage to
deal with sitting in a car for a few hours while I drive us to your new home?”
Chelsea scrubbed at her face.

“I think I can manage,” she said
after a moment’s consideration. “Can we cut back my dose of the Vicodin
somehow? It was kind of nice to be totally oblivious of everything, but I’d
like to start being at least partially aware of the world around me again now.”
Johan nodded, standing in a quick, graceful movement that Chelsea resented for
the way it underscored her current injured state.

“I’ll give you a full dose after
breakfast, and the next dose will be half, how about that?” Chelsea shrugged.

“Why not a half dose to begin
with?”

“Because, my dear, it’s a lot
easier to prevent pain than it is to kill it. If you have a full dose now and
we give you a half dose on schedule, it’ll work better.” Chelsea shrugged,
scratching at the skin around her knee brace idly.
Why are these stupid
things always so itchy?
Johan began filling a plate for her from the
platters and bowls on the table. “It’s a good thing I turned you down last
night, or I’d feel horrible right now,” Johan said absently.

“You turned me down last night?”
Chelsea frowned. Johan grinned at her, handing her the plate and a roll of
silverware.

“You turned over in the bed at
about… I want to say midnight? And started groping me.” Chelsea’s cheeks flared
with heat. “I mean really going to town.” She looked down at her plate as her
blush deepened. “You said something about how I could fuck you however I
wanted. But since you didn’t sound exactly like yourself I figured it was the
Vicodin talking.” Chelsea swallowed the tight ball of embarrassment in her
throat, taking a slow breath.

“It’s a good thing you did,” she
said, picking at the food on her plate. “Although I probably wouldn’t have
remembered it.” She felt Johan’s fingers against her jaw; he tilted her face up
so that she had to meet his gaze.

“I want every time we have sex
to be memorable. Why waste an opportunity when you’re too drugged to even know
what’s happening, much less tell me the next morning how good it was?” Chelsea
chuckled, shaking her head slightly. “Besides, I wasn’t sure how to feel about
you calling me ‘Mr. Honey-cock’.” Chelsea stared at him in shock.

“I—I called you—Mr.…”

“Honey-cock, yep.” Chelsea
closed her eyes as new waves of embarrassment washed through her. “It was cute.
A little weird, but cute.” Chelsea bit her bottom lip, unsure of whether she
felt more resentment, embarrassment, or amusement at the situation that Johan
had described.

“One of these days, somehow, I’m
going to drug you and—and make you horny and record the stupid things you say,”
she told him. Johan chuckled.

“Good luck with that,” he said,
leaning in to brush his lips against hers. He pointed to her plate, pulling
back to serve his own plate of breakfast. “We’ll eat, pack up your things, give
you your first dose, and get on the road,” Johan told her. “New life!” Johan
glanced at Chelsea, and she took a bite of her food more out of the feeling
that she should than out of actual hunger. “It’ll be okay,” Johan said, holding
her gaze. “Hey—there are lots of people who go to crazy lengths to ditch their
old life.” Chelsea shrugged.

“I guess I’m not really one of
them,” she said, taking a deep breath and exhaling on a sigh. “But I’ll have to
become one.” Chelsea gave Johan a tight, tense smile and decided resolutely to
focus on her food.
One foot in front of the other. Keep moving forward.