Rock Star Romance: Dan (Contemporary New Adult Rockstar Bad Boy Romance) (Hard Rock Star Series Book 4) (70 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.