Blindsided (25 page)

“What happened? What are you doing here?”

She slowly realized that she wasn’t dreaming. Nate was here, in her hotel room. He was wearing a black shirt, his tattoos rising up his neck from beneath his collar. She had seen him.

“You fainted in a tea shop and I carried you back here,” Nate said.

He brushed a piece of hair out of her eyes. She had forgotten how much she liked it when he did that.

“But, why are you here?” she asked weakly, “And how did you find me? Did you just wander around Seoul looking for me?”

Her head still felt fuzzy and too light. She took a sip of the water sitting on the table next to her. It didn’t help her head, but it kept her from seeing the anger and frustration in Nate’s eyes.

“The manager of the hotel said you liked this tea shop. As I got closer, I called you and heard the 1812 overture. Your phone led me right to you,” he said with a grin, “I was going to just wait in the lobby for you, but I got lucky.”

“The manager told you where I was?” Chelsea asked. That was scary enough that it broke through the fog in her brain. What if he’d been a stalker? “That’s not very safe.”

Nate nodded. “I know. But he was a Blindside fan.”

“Wow,” Chelsea said, impressed.

This whole trip, she’d been noticing people wearing Blindside t-shirts, stores carrying their albums. Nate, Bill and Sean really were huge worldwide.

Chelsea reeled herself back from her sidetrack.

“But
why
are you here? Why did you come here?” she asked.

“I’m here because when I talked to you yesterday, you couldn’t complete a sentence without a minute long pause, Chelsea. You couldn’t even put two words together half the time. I could tell you were running yourself down again, and I didn’t want to have to come and get you out of a hospital. And it’s clearly a good thing I did.”

His voice had taken on a stern edge that grated on Chelsea’s very frayed nerves. Pushing herself up onto her elbows, she looked at Nate with as serious a look as she could manage.

“I’m an adult, Nate Stone,” she said angrily, “And don’t you forget it.”

She stood up, needing to get away from him, from the way he was making her feel, but her dramatic exit was ruined when she fell on the floor in a heap. Her legs had turned to oatmeal and she was unable to move. So instead she cried, leaning her head against the bed and beating the mattress with her fists.

“What was that about being an adult?” Nate said.

It could have been mean, but he was picking her up and putting her back into bed with such tenderness that Chelsea couldn’t see it that way. She snuggled against him and took a deep breath. The wonderful smell of him chased away her tears and she started kissing his neck, wanting to get at all of him, wanting to taste him, let him seep through her pores.

“Chelsea,” he said, his voice struggling to maintain composure under her onslaught.

“Shhh,” she said as she explored him.

Feverish, near blinded by the sudden, fierce need to be possessed by him, Chelsea yanked at his shirt, pulling it free from the waistband of his jeans. If she couldn’t feel in control, she could at least be controlled by someone she loved.

“I’m serious Nate. You want to do what’s best for me, do that. I want you now, no games, no fooling around. I just want you inside me. Please.”

She swallowed hard. She didn’t want him to know how close she was to tears again. Everything was closing in on her. Her panic swelling, threatening to overturn her and pull her under. Her body was rebelling against a hard work schedule that no longer seemed to be doing its job and she was so confused about the man lying next to her she could barely keep her feelings straight.

But she wasn’t confused about how he affected her body. Two minutes in the same room with him his smell had gone straight to her sex. She was open, warm, she could feel it. She needed him so badly it went beyond the physical. If he took her now, it would push all the rest to the sidelines.

His jaw worked and Chelsea knew his lust, anger and frustration were battling for control. She wiggled her hips up against his groin and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Fine,” he said.

Then he was on top of her, pinning her hands over her head as he kissed her savagely, his hands wandering roughly over her body. He pulled her shirt off, her bra, her jeans, then stood and yanked off his own clothes.

Ferociously, he pulled her body down to the end of the bed and spread her legs wide. He stood between them and stared at her darkly.

“You’re sure this is what you want?” he asked, his voice rough.

She nodded, her breath ragged, her body feeling alive. She’d never been more sure of anything in her life. Nate, rough, no pretenses, no reservations. It felt like only that would save her.

Hooking his elbows under her knees, he pulled her towards him and thrust into her in one slick movement. He teased her, thrusting in to the hilt before drawing all the way back out, just resting his head against her opening. She surged her hips forward, embracing the mindlessness of pure, physical need.

For what seemed like an eternity, he kept up the tortuously slow pace, intensity strengthening each thrust. Finally, when she was panting and writhing on the bed, her body thrumming with the need for release, he began a constant, driving rhythm that quickly urged her to the brink of orgasm.

His final thrust sent them both over the edge and he toppled down on top of her, chest heaving. Digging her nails into his painted skin, she mixed her screams with his primal growls.

###

“Okay, let’s talk,” Nate said when his breath returned to normal.

Jesus, that had been intense. He’d forgotten what they were like together, how each touch spiraled out of control until they were frenzied, bodies heaving together. It had seemed so fantastically right that he had convinced himself he’d been making it up. But he hadn’t been. Every time their bodies connected, energy zinged between them, their souls touching. It was an intensity that went beyond the physical. Three weeks ago, it had scared the shit out of him. Now that he’d been without it, he would do anything to hold on to it.

He pulled her up and slid until he was sitting up with his back propped against the headboard. Settling her on his lap, he brushed the hair out of her face and kissed her gently.

“No fair,” she mumbled and turned her face back into his neck.

“What’s no fair?” he asked.

He moved his hand casually over her breast, letting his fingers linger over her nipple. It hardened almost instantly and a soft moan came from Chelsea.

“It’s not fair that you can just move me around wherever you want. Like I’m a rag doll or something,” she said.

Her voice was sleepy, sated and Nate smiled. He had not been behind that particular idea of hers. It had seemed too brutal, too harsh, but it did seem to be what she needed. She was relaxed now, and he hadn’t seen that panicked look since. Was that all it would take, animalistic fucking? Probably not, which was too bad. He could promise her a lifetime of that.

He had no idea how she was going to react and that scared the hell out of him. Reluctantly, he stopped caressing her and just held her tight.

“What do you mean, help me long term?” Chelsea said.

“Chelsea, we both know why you push yourself so hard. You work yourself nearly to death. And you know why. So do I. Maybe you wish now that you hadn’t told me, but you did. And that means it’s now my problem too.”

Her face took on an obstinate look, but he held up his hand and said firmly, “Don’t try to argue, it’s another guy thing. You want a boyfriend who cares about you, you have to deal with us trying to fix your problem.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything so he continued.

“You try to outrun the pain and the memories, but it doesn’t work. All it does is make you collapse in exhaustion. Is it working this time Chelsea?”

She struggled to get off his lap, but he held her tight. You never wanted to hear the thing you need to hear the most, he reminded himself.

“Fuck you,” she said, still struggling.

“Okay, if it’s working out just fine for you, why are you planning another month? Why aren’t you just stopping when you originally planned? If you’re not running, Chelsea, if you just really like your work, why is it that you can’t stop? It’s compulsive, Chelsea, and it’s not working.”

Nate was amazed how calm his voice was. He was churning with anger and frustration inside, but they weren’t threatening to overwhelm him. Was he changing, or was it just because it was her he was trying to help?

He could see her struggling, see all her walls going up to protect herself from what deep down she knew was the truth. She had to know it wasn’t working anymore, as angry as she was with him. Or was she scared and acting angry? Nate pushed the implications of that particular idea away and focused on Chelsea. He tried to make his voice gentler, but it did little to help her reaction.

“Yes, you are, sweetheart. Just because you’re not sitting in a bar drinking yourself silly doesn’t mean you’re not self destructive. Trust me. I’m an expert. And you are driving yourself into the ground doing this. It needs to stop or it’s going to kill you.”

“It is working,” she said softly, the fight going out of her.

He sighed and wrapped his arms tighter around her, tucking her head under his chin.

“No, babe, it’s not. I can see the panic cross your face now, just like I could in Seattle. It’s still haunting you, and it’s going to until you die if you don’t face it. And you’re going to die a hell of a lot sooner than I want you too if you keep this up.”

Her small body shuddered in his arms and he felt like crying himself. Jesus, what a mess.

“How am I supposed to face it Nate? I’m doing the best I can. I just, I don’t know what else to do.”

The pain in her voice was horrendous and again Nate cursed the bastard, cursed her own survival instincts that had led her down this road for so long.

Chelsea lay awake long after Nate had gone to sleep. She stared at him in the dim light coming in through the window. It seemed unreal that he had come all this way to keep her from exhausting herself. And he was staying, staying until she was done, and, as he had put it, ‘keeping her alive.’ It had seemed so overdramatic, but now she wasn’t sure.

The doctors in Australia hadn’t thought she would survive a relapse, which is exactly what she’d been heading for. Maybe Nate was right, maybe she did need him here to keep her calm, to hold her until the panic passed. If that could get her through this trip, it might be worth it.

He’d wanted her to cancel everything and just leave with him tomorrow, but she couldn’t do that so he was rearranging his schedule to fit hers. She had commitments, and even if his plan worked, she liked her work, wanted to continue. Not with the same schedule, but on some level. Her work had become her life, and they may not have been the best thing, but she wouldn’t give it up entirely. She loved it for its own sake, not just the comfort it provided. Correction, used to provide.

So instead, he was staying with her until her original story was done, and then they’d go back to the States together. With all this generosity, Chelsea found it hard to believe that she had ever written him off as a stereotypical bad boy. And as much as it terrified her, she was going to do what Nate suggested. Because the alternative, life without him, was worse. She didn’t want to live without him, and as long as she hadn’t faced her problems, she wasn’t going to be able to have him in any real way.