by Katee Robert
He’d hurt her worse than anyone else she’d ever known.
She wasn’t doing herself a single favor obsessing about this.
“This way.” His hand cupping her elbow whipped her out of her spiraling, the touch taking away her ability to think.
He led her through the parking lot, stopping in front of a truck. At the sight of it, her head started feeling funny, dizziness overtaking her until she had to press her hand to the hood to make sure she didn’t fall. “Is this a joke?”
“A joke?” The question sounded innocent enough, but when she turned to look at him, his eyes conveyed entirely too much knowledge. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“Stop calling me that. And you know exactly what’s wrong.” She waved frantically at the truck. It was nearly an exact replica of the ancient one he’d driven her around in during high school—a ’72 Chevy. The only difference was his old truck had been on the verge of falling apart, from the missing back bumper to the rust holes in the floorboards. This one was as shiny and well taken care of as a brand new vehicle.
He shrugged, his indifference a lie because of the pointed way he watched her. “What can I say? I had a lot of good memories in that truck so I restored it. I didn’t want to let it go.”
Didn’t want to let her go.
The words lay between them, one more elephant to add to the herd taking up the majority of the parking lot. She felt as if she’d choke on the things unsaid between them. Chelsea walked toward the tailgate, trailing her hand over the brilliant red paint. There were so many memories centered on this thing, from the countless hours of country driving they’d done to the wicked way they’d spent their time in the bed with the tailgate down. She jerked her hand back, as if that would stem the flow of images reminding her how his naked skin had glowed in the moonlight.
She looked back to find him holding the passenger door open for her. Just like he always had. She held her breath as she climbed into the truck. If his goal was to take them both on a trip down memory lane, he was doing a brilliant job of it.
But she wanted no part of whatever plan he had in the works.The past needed to stay behind her. Digging it up did neither of them any favors, and she had a divorce to finalize.
3
Nathan should really say something to break the loaded silence between them, but he was still too pissed to trust himself to speak without saying something unforgivable.
Goddamn divorce papers.
He didn’t know what he’d expected, but things were worse than he’d imagined. He’d broken her trust in some way, but damn if he knew how. Yeah, he’d screwed up back then, but this was something else altogether. And the way she’d said it. Shattered. Like there was no hope of repairing it.
No. He couldn’t believe that. If he did, he had no business following through with his plan. A love like theirs didn’t just disappear. Beyond that, she wasn’t the type of woman to kiss a man she hated—or was even indifferent to. A lot might change over the years, but he couldn’t imagine that would.
And she’d almost kissed him in the hotel room earlier.
He cursed himself for letting that opportunity go, but knowing what he did now, he was glad he’d stepped back. His initial plan to use sex to break down her barriers had to be adjusted. If she didn’t trust him, she wasn’t going to come running back into his arms just because he drove her out of her mind with passion. He’d have to approach it from a different angle, one that pushed her, but not enough to run the risk of ruining any chance he had of regaining her trust. Considering how she’d already responded, he didn’t see that being a problem.
Though, after eight years without Chelsea in his life, he didn’t want to take anything for granted.
“Tell me about your job.”
She made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Why bother with small talk? It’s not going to matter in a few days anyway.”
He refused to agree with that. A few days could make all the difference in the world. He took a deep breath and beat the anger back. “My weekend, my terms.”
“I’m sorry. Did someone name you King of the Mountain and I neglected to notice?”
Her obvious reluctance to share any information about herself grated on him. She didn’t want small talk? Fine. He’d go straight for broke. “Come here.”
“Excuse me?”
“The center of the bench seat. You’re familiar with it.” He patted the spot next to him. “Come on, baby.”
“Stop calling me that.”
He patted the seat again. “Come over here and make me.”
“You have the maturity of a twelve-year-old.”
“Nah. I’m a solid seventeen. You remember seventeen, don’t you?” All those stolen moments they’d shared. Later, after she was gone, he’d tried to chalk his feelings up to Chelsea being the forbidden fruit he could never really have, but that assumption cheapened what they’d shared. The truth was he’d loved her with an intensity he’d never felt before or since.
She pressed her lips together. “I try to forget.”
That hurt. Then again, why wouldn’t she try to forget their time together? If her words back in the hotel room were anything to go by, she didn’t think they had anything left to save.
He was damn well going to prove her wrong. “Here’s the deal—get over here or answer my questions.”
She stared out the windshield. “We can make small talk without resorting to more blackmail. Tell me about Gabe and Elle.”
He didn’t want to talk about his brother and Elle, but he’d take whatever he could get. “They’re good for each other, though they didn’t get off to the easiest of starts.”
“How so?”
It was on the tip of his tongue to talk about something else, but then he changed his mind. Would she be jealous knowing the truth? “It’s a funny story, actually. Elle was trying to seduce me, but she made a tactical error and ended up in Gabe’s bed instead. It’s more or less history from there.”
Chelsea tensed. “That’s…something.”
She was jealous. Nathan wanted to crow in delight. Jealous was directly connected to caring, and damn if he wasn’t going to capitalize on that. “It’s certainly a unique ‘how we met’ story.”
When she didn’t respond, he decided to let the silence stretch—let her stew—for the rest of the trip. This was only the first step. There would be time for more conversations later.
He drove into Portland, finding the way from memory. He didn’t drive down here often, but the Portland City Grill was one of his favorite places to eat when he was in the area, and it was the perfect place to begin his seduction.
As he parked, Chelsea peered out through the windshield. “Is this where the wedding party is having dinner?”
“Just us.”
She froze. “What?”
His little wife sounded damn near terrified at the thought of being alone with him for longer than strictly necessary. He reached over and squeezed her knee, leaving his hand there. “Just you and me tonight.”
“Nathan, I—”
“Let’s go.” He held the door open for her and then slipped his arm around her shoulders. This time she didn’t jump for a full ten seconds, as if she only then remembered she was supposed to not want his touch. He led the way into the restaurant, though he didn’t give her as much room as was technically polite.
The hostess took his name and gave him a million- watt smile. “Mr. Schultz. We have your table ready.” She didn’t so much as look at Chelsea once as she led them back to the private room he’d reserved. He kept his hand on the small of Chelsea’s back, guiding her even though she didn’t need it. It was a testament to his control that he managed to keep the contact so brief, when all he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and never let her go.
The hostess waited until they were seated and turned yet another smile his way. “Your server will be with you shortly. Let me know if there’s anything you need in the meantime.” She shut the sliding doors, keepin
g strong eye contact the entire time. Subtle.
Chelsea gave a distinctly unfeminine snort. “Classy.”
There was that jealous streak again. He liked it. “Not interested.”
“Don’t miss an opportunity on my account.” The smile she gave him was faker than the French manicure on her nails.“I’m sure there’s a storage closet or handicap stall or somewhere equally private for you to peel her out of that Spandex skirt.”
He moved seats so he sat kitty-corner to her instead of across the table. Then he leaned forward. “Want to know a secret?”
“By all means.”
He waited until she was within touching distance to say,“The only person I have any intention of peeling out of her clothes tonight is you.”
Her eyes went wide, and she straightened so fast he was a little worried she’d get whiplash. “That’s not funny.”
“Neither is you thinking I’d actually consider another woman when you’re in the room.” Or at any other time. It was Chelsea for him. It always had been. No one else would do.
“If it’d make you rest easier, I can wait in the car.” Christ, she wasn’t going to let this go, was she? The anger he’d never quite gotten a handle on shot back to the surface. “Do you know what I want to do to you before the weekend is out? Hell, what I want to do to you right now?”
She went pale, and then red. “Stop it.”
He kept his voice low because the server could appear at any time but made sure she heard every single word. “I want to go down on my knees in front of you—I’m dying to see what’s under that dress— and then I want to drag your panties down your legs, slowly, prolonging it, teasing you the way you like it.”
“Nathan, please.” She pressed a hand to her chest, which only served to draw attention to the fact her breathing had increased. As if he needed more indication than the flush of desire spreading over her skin.
“I want to spread your legs, looping your knees over the arms of your chair, leaving you wide open. Then I want to just look at you.” His cock was so hard it was damn near painful. He could picture exactly what he’d described. They’d never done anything exactly like this before, but he knew Chelsea’s body nearly as well as his own. He knew her desires, knew she liked it when he took charge, though they’d been so inexperienced when they first made love, they hadn’t explored it in any detail.
Eight years of fantasies had given him plenty of material and ideas for expanding their experiences. Now he just had to wait until she begged him for it.
He waited a few seconds to see if she’d protest again, but she watched him with wide amber eyes filled with apprehension and need. Nathan slipped his hand under hers and played over her knuckles with his thumb. The touch was on the far side of innocent, but she made a faint sound that was an awful lot like a moan.
“After I look my fill, making you wait for me, I want to touch you like this, starting at each ankle and working my way slowly up your legs. You’d be shaking by then, needing me the same way I need you right now. Ready to die if I don’t touch you where you’re so fucking wet for me.”
The door slid open and Chelsea pulled her hand out of his. Nathan wanted to curse at the server for making an appearance, but then he looked at Chelsea again. She was frazzled, her hand shaking as she reached for her water. He ordered for both of them, needing the fucking server gone. From the look of relief on her face, she thought this was the end of it.
She was so goddamn wrong.
4
Chelsea couldn’t seem to catch her breath. The image Nathan had painted was so incredibly vivid it was everything she could do not to beg him to put it into reality. He knew her secret spots and desires better than anyone else in the world. Which wasn’t to say she’d given anyone else a chance to learn them, no matter how much she’d wanted to scrub him from her system in the years after she’d moved to Seattle.
She was so busy trying to calm herself down, she couldn’t dredge up any anger over his high-handed way of ordering for her. It was doubtful she could eat even if she wanted to at this point. All she could focus on was him, sitting there, looking so enticing while she tried to keep herself from unraveling in his presence.
The low light of the private room was good to him—as if he needed any help being more attractive—playing off his strong jaw and shading his brown hair darker than normal. He looked mysterious and carnal, and her hands hitched for her camera.
It wasn’t fair.
She nearly laughed at the childlike thought. Of course it wasn’t fair. Life rarely was. The problem was that it felt like Nathan held all the cards, while she was left scrambling for something to hang onto. Throwing in the divorce counteroffer had been a start, and he’d brushed it aside as if it barely made him stumble.
She needed something larger to shake him up.
The server had barely closed the doors behind him when Nathan turned back to her. “Where were we?”
She couldn’t take much more of this, or she was in very real danger of orgasming on the spot. So she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Are you planning on talking all night, or are you going to follow through?” It was a bluff, and not even a smooth one. But even with the changes she’d seen, this was still Nathan. And the Nathan she’d known would never do something as insane as what he’d been describing to her.
His eyes darkened and for a moment she thought she might have actually gained some ground. Then he went and ruined it. “Take off your panties.”
Oh no. If she obeyed, she might as well stop fighting for the rest of the weekend. She wasn’t ready to do that. It would be entirely too easy to slip back into their old way of doing things, to let the past blur over the present until she saw everything through her teenage rose-tinted glasses.
Chelsea propped her chin on her hands and gave him an innocent look. “You first.”
“That’s not how this works.”
Because he thought he could keep control. Not likely. She would be the one in control. At this point, she’d do damn near anything to wrestle it out of his hands. Two could play the dirty-talking game. “Why not? Don’t you like the idea of my mouth on you?”
“Jesus.” He looked absolutely floored.“Chelsea—”
“I remember, you know. I remember how much you liked it when I met your gaze while I was going down on you.” She tried not to squirm as she relived exactly how much she’d liked it as well. “Do you think I could make you come before the server gets back?” As if called by her words, the server swept into the room, this time bearing a tray with two glasses and a bottle of wine. Nathan barely let him get to the table before he said, “Box our food. We’re taking it to go.”
A thrill went through her at his rough tone, the barely veiled need as clear as if he’d thrown her over his shoulder and carried her from the room.The server frowned, but then gave a hasty nod. “Yes, sir. I’ll be back shortly.”
Nathan turned on her as the door shut once more. “That was mean.”
“You haven’t seen mean yet.” God, what was she saying? She felt like she was playing chicken with a train or waving a pair of red panties in front of a charging bull. There was only one way this could end for her—badly.
His grin was just this side of savage. “If you start down this path, there’s no turning back.”
As if she could, even if she tried.
This was her chance to back off. To take the safe route, hold out for the rest of the weekend, and go back to her life, divorce papers in hand. All she had to do was tell him no.
Instead, Chelsea gave him a feral grin of her own. “Who said anything about wanting to turn back?” If he thought he could call her bluff, he had another think coming. She was willing to see this out to the end, for better or worse.
The phrase nearly made her lose her nerve, but she pushed her worry away. This was a different situation, a new her. Strange how she didn’t feel all that new sitting at a dinner table with Nathan, fighting to keep her hands off him.
“You make this choice, I’ll give you tonight.” His grin widened, sending an answering surge of desire through her. “But the rest of the weekend is mine.”
Ignoring the infinite ways this could go wrong, she patted his hand. “If you’re afraid, it’s completely understandable. I’m willing to let you off the hook.”
“It’s not me who’s in over my head right now.” His gaze raked over her, leaving trails of goose bumps in its wake.
The server came back with their boxes and bill, which Nathan paid in cash.Then he stood and held out his hand. “Shall we?”
“Of course.” She took his hand, feeling as if she were making a bargain with the devil. Wasn’t that exactly what this weekend was, though? They both wanted something out of it, and they both were more than willing to play dirty to accomplish their goals. Now it was a matter of seeing who came out on top.
It had to be her. If… No, she couldn’t afford to think like that. There was no “if” or “maybe” or room for doubt. Not now that she’d made her decision. So she allowed him to lead her back down to his truck, reveling in the fact he was practically dragging her along and his steps were not steady by any means.
She had him right where she wanted him.
Nathan couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought beyond getting to the truck. If he hadn’t gotten them out of that restaurant, he’d be bending her over the table right now. Or she’d be on her knees in front of him…
Christ.
He bit back a groan and picked up his pace. Idiot that he was, he honestly hadn’t expected Chelsea to turn things around on him. He’d fully planned on continuing to tease her through dinner until she was damn near out of her mind with need for him to touch her. All she had to do was ask and he’d have done whatever she wanted. But then she’d gone and thrown a wrench into the gears, and now he could barely think past the need to see if she’d follow through on her threat—or let him follow through on his.
