You shouldn’t be here. We’re done. Our marriage just can’t be, okay?
It hurt her on every level to have to type in the short, hateful words. He’d come after her, and she had to push him away again. She handed the phone back to him, loathing herself for it.
Sebastian didn’t get up and leave, though. He started to type again. A curious sort of anxiety built in her stomach, to where she couldn’t even watch the bout as it began. It was noisy, but not so loud that they couldn’t talk anymore. And yet, she was silent, just watching him type into his phone. Eventually, he handed it back to her and waited.
You really should learn to answer your phone, Elsie.
Elsie? Was that one of his horrible nicknames? A giggle rose in her throat, and she couldn’t resist texting back her own snappy answer.
Maybe I didn’t want to talk, Basty.
He typed, then gave it back.
It could be worse, I suppose. You could have called me Nugget.
A horrible giggle escaped her throat.
She returned: I would never.
He sent back: And that’s why I love you.
When he handed the phone back with that, she started to cry again. Damn it, she’d told herself she wasn’t going to weep and blubber like a baby over a man. She was strong and independent. She was Chesty LaRude, badass derby diva. A survivor.
But right now? She would have given anything to be a snuggler instead of a survivor. To let Sebastian envelop her in his arms and let her know everything was handled. That it was cool. That she was safe, and she was his, and he loved her, and nothing would ever separate them again.
But that was a dream, of course. Reality had shit all over that.
Upset, Chelsea stood up and handed the phone back to him. She had to get away. Fumbling, she pushed her way through the crowd and exited the stands. She knew he was following her, but she didn’t care. She’d retreat to a bathroom, or to a locker room—somewhere, anywhere—that she could get away from him.
This event was packed and she wasn’t familiar with the venue. She looked around in vain for a bathroom, and then just ran out the front of the building. At least there she’d have fresh air to clear her head. Chelsea ran, wishing she had her skates on. Life was so easy to escape when you had your skates on . . .
Was that what she was doing? Escaping? The thought made her reel, and it hurt.
Was she being a coward after all?
Outside, the night air was crisp and slightly cooler than inside the venue, and she sucked in lungfuls of air, relieved. Her head ached. Her heart, too. The sound was muffled, at least, and for that, she was thankful.
“Chelsea?” Sebastian called behind her. “Are you okay?”
“I just need a moment,” she said, not looking back at him.
“Is it me? Am I frightening you?” The remorse in his voice made her heart ache. “You know that’s the last thing in the world I’d ever want.”
She turned around for that, because he deserved to know that she wasn’t afraid. “I’m not scared of you, Sebastian. It’s just that . . . this is hard.” A huge knot formed in her throat.
“Then let me make it easier for you.” He strode toward her, and god, he was so beautiful, all dusky skin and dark, curly hair and those piercing green eyes. He was dressed in a pale khaki sport-shirt that brought out the warmth in his skin and the perfection of his jaw, and jeans. This was probably Sebastian’s version of dressing down, and a miserable half-giggle escaped her.
“You being here makes it hard, Sebastian.”
“Is it because you don’t want me here?” He came to her side and lifted his hand, as if he wanted to touch her cheek, to caress her jaw. Instead, he just brushed a few curls of her wind-blown hair back.
“It’s too hard,” she whispered again. “It makes me want things I can’t have.”
His thumb brushed over her lips then, and he cupped her jaw, tilting her head up so she’d meet his gaze. “Then let me tell you why you’re wrong, love.” He leaned in and gently brushed his mouth over hers. “I love you. I don’t want you to leave me.”
Protests sprang to her throat, that he couldn’t be here, that she was protecting him, that—
“—and I know all about the video,” he added, interrupting her jumbled thoughts.
She stiffened, gaze flying up to his in shock. “What? You do?”
He nodded, pulling her against him even when she pushed against his chest. “Let me explain before you freak out, all right?” She reluctantly nodded, and he continued. “Rufus showed up to check in on you after you left, and mentioned you’d met with my mother. I figured out she’d said something, and stormed over there to give her a piece of my mind.”
Chelsea bit her lip. Boy, she hadn’t covered her tracks well, had she? She’d been in such a daze, so utterly fogged with misery and unhappiness that she hadn’t been thinking clearly. She should have said something to Rufus. He’d been nothing but kind and she’d completely forgotten about him.
“My mother told me about the video. She thought it was voluntary. When I told her it was a crime, she was apologetic.” He made a face. “She fucked up bad, and she knows it.”
Chelsea shook her head and patted his chest. “She’s trying to protect you. Like I am.”
“Do you think I care about that video? The only thing I care about is that someone’s using it to hurt you.”
“I’m not the target, Sebastian. You are. You—”
“I know. And that’s why I’m here to tell you that I gave the video to the police.”
Stunned, she jerked away from him. “But—the blackmailer—”
“Is in custody. Remember you said you had a case that got mishandled and never went anywhere? I convinced the police it was worth looking at again.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Talked to the police chief, made a few generous donations, and, well . . . Seems that asshole was rather proud of himself. They were able to identify him in the video because he had a prison record.” His voice softened. “He’s not going to be able to hurt anyone again. The best lawyers money can buy are going to make sure of that.”
Chelsea stared up at him.
“Say something, love. Please. Did I do wrong? I just wanted you to get justice. I—”
She flung herself at him and kissed him, hard. He was the best man ever. Her lips crushed his in a ruthless kiss. And she wasn’t in her gear, and she didn’t feel the same kind of arousal, but she was still pleased because she enjoyed it. She enjoyed branding Sebastian with her mouth and claiming him as hers.
When she pulled away, he looked a little breathless, and she felt smugly pleased with herself. Her hand stroked down the front of his shirt. “You did that for me, Sebastian?”
“Chelsea, I would do utterly anything for you. How can you not know that?” He gestured at the roller derby building. “You want a sport? I will totally buy you the entire league. You want a house here in Austin so you can skate with Pisa on weekends? I will buy you a private jet so you can fly in and skate. You want an island? I know a realtor—”
She put her fingers over his lips, silencing him. “I don’t want any of that, Sebastian.”
“I love you, Chelsea. Come home with me, please. I don’t give a shit about the blackmailer. It’s taken care of for now. And even if something came up later, I would rather have you at my side than anywhere else. We’re strongest together. We make each other whole.” He took her hand in his and laced his fingers through hers, then brushed his lips over the back of her hand. “I’m lost without you. Like my mother without her plastic surgeon.”
Chapter Twenty-six
An awful giggle escaped her at that. “That is a horrible comparison.”
“And here I thought I was doing better.” He tilted his head, pretending to think, even as his arms went around her waist. “Like . . . Lisa and a TV camera?”
She gasped. “Lisa—did you hear? I saw an article about her and a sex tape, too.”
“Believe it or not, but that wa
s planted.” Sebastian shrugged at Chelsea’s gasp. “I know. My mother suggested the idea to cover up our tracks while I went to the police, and to stall the criminals. No one would put out a sex tape at the same time as another, because you want to get maximum attention. So we figured that would fend someone off for a bit and give me time to go to the police.”
“But Lisa . . .”
“Is thrilled,” he said gently. “She wanted a huge story line for this season and now she has one. My mother’s thrilled, too. There’s no sex tape, really. It’s all fabricated for tabloids. They’re going to put out a few cease and desists, and Lisa’s going to have a million interviews, and they’ll release a few fake stills from it, and then people will just assume it was privately purchased. It’s not like your situation at all, love. I promise. No one’s hurting Lisa. She was so excited over the thought that my mother actually had to stop her from truly filming a sex tape.”
Chelsea blanched. “She wants to be famous that badly?”
“More than anything.” He shrugged. “This way, everyone gets what they want, I guess. Lisa gets her fame, my mother gets a story line that’s sure to bring in viewers, and I get my wife back, if she’ll have me.” He kissed her hand again. “Unless she’s happy in Austin.”
“And if she is?” Chelsea was breathless.
“Then I move to Austin so I can just be near her until she’s ready to come back to me.” His lips nibbled at her knuckles. “I’ll wait forever for you if I have to.”
“I don’t want to be in Austin,” she admitted, the familiar ache in her throat returning. “I want to be with you. But, Sebastian . . . I’m all fucked up. I can’t be the wife you need.”
“You’re utterly perfect.”
“I’m not,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t sleep with the lights off and I can’t enjoy sex unless I’m wearing skates and I think I ate ten pounds of chocolate-covered pretzels this last week because I was so depressed over things. That video might come out at some point after all.” The thought made her sick. “No matter how many lawyers and police we throw at it. Everything always gets out on the Internet. I could still ruin your family.”
“You are my family, Chelsea. Don’t you get that? I love you with all of my heart and soul. If you’re not in my life, I have nothing. I don’t care if you’re the woman you think I need, but you’re the woman I want. I love you and adore you, and every minute without you is worthless.”
Did any girl deserve such a wonderful man? Chelsea leaned in and kissed him again, whispering, “I love you, Sebastian.”
He groaned. “I love you, too, sweetheart. I’ve loved you from the moment your lips touched mine. I mean it when I say I’ll do whatever it takes to make you mine. We can move to Austin. Hell, we can move to Venezuela. Just stay with me and be by my side.”
“I like your home,” she said between quick, happy kisses. God, she was so happy. She couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t stop touching him. “I like being with you. You’re my home, Sebastian. You and my team.”
“As long as I come first,” he said with a chuckle.
“I’ll think about it,” she said, grinning. Her happiness and relief bubbled over, and she gave him another quick kiss. “I have a question, though . . . Did you watch the video?” She’d live with it if he had, but the thought sent a twinge of misery through her.
He shook his head. “I don’t need to see it to believe you.”
“It’s not that I don’t think you believe me.”
Sebastian tenderly brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “The last thing I want to see is a video of you getting hurt. I never want to see it. Ever.”
That made the tears blur her vision. She didn’t realize how important it was to her that he not see it. That he not witness her most shameful moment. That it remain in her past instead of between them. “Thank you.”
“I never want to do anything that would hurt you, Chelsea. You know that.” His lips brushed over her forehead. “I love you too much for that.”
“I love you, too,” she said softly, and pressed her cheek against his chest, her arms going around his waist in a hug.
He rubbed her back, holding her against him for an eternity. They stayed there in the parking lot, locked in nothing but a hug, and for Chelsea, it felt . . . cleansing. Wonderful. Like the past was once more falling away.
Sebastian was her future.
Her hands slid up and down his back lightly, dragging over the material of his shirt. Just enjoying his touch, and the feel of his body against hers.
His big body shifted against her. “Did you want to go back inside to the bout?”
She kinda just wanted to stay here, in his arms, forever. “Not really?”
He exhaled. “That’s a good thing. My pants are starting to get uncomfortably tight in the front.”
She chuckled and slid a hand around to the crotch of his jeans. Sure enough, his cock was hard, tenting the material. “What, here?”
He pulled her hand away. “Unless you want to get nailed in the parking lot, Mrs. Hall-Cabral, I suggest we go back to my hotel room.”
“Back to Pisa’s apartment first,” Chelsea said, then gave him a naughty look. “All my gear’s there.”
“Then that’s where we’re going,” he said solemnly. “Gear, then hotel.”
“Or . . . gear, and we can just make out on her couch.”
“I like that idea better,” he said, grabbing her hand and hurrying her along in the parking lot. “Less driving around, and more fucking my wife.”
She liked it better, too.
He had a rented sedan and a driver waiting out in the street, and she got into the car with him and immediately texted Pisa a message.
Chesty: Having hot nasty reunion sex with my husband at your place. Consider this notification as a virtual sock on the door.
Not that Pisa would see it until after the bout. She also texted Drew a quick message as to where she’d gone, and to not wait for her. Then, she flung her arms around Sebastian’s neck and kissed him again.
Because, really, she could kiss him while waiting for her gear, couldn’t she? She could.
He hauled her against him and kissed her hard, and even though she was expecting to feel nothing, she felt a prickle of arousal move through her. This was Sebastian, with his warm skin and familiar mouth, and the spicy scent of the soap she made for him touching her nose. He was safe, and it was okay to let go with him.
He had her back.
And so she experimented with small kisses, her lips playing against his. Soft nibbles, flicks of her tongue, and sometimes just pressing her mouth against his. As long as it kept her in contact with Sebastian, it felt good and right, and she didn’t hate it.
She kind of liked it, actually. It wasn’t the blazing inferno of emotion she felt when she had her uniform on, but it was a nice little spark.
She was happy about that spark. It meant that she could keep improving in the future. It might take her years before she wouldn’t have to make love to her husband with her skates on, but she felt it was possible.
And hope was a wonderful, wonderful thing.
Then again, so was touching Sebastian.
By the time they made it to Pisa’s apartment downtown, Chelsea was more than ready to get out of the car and get changed. Her entire body felt alive, her pulse throbbing with excitement. It had been far too long since she’d felt Sebastian’s body against hers, and she wanted that again. She took his hand and all but tugged him out of the car, eager and aroused.
“Should I tell the driver to wait?” Sebastian asked her as she pulled out her keys.
“Hell, no. Tell him you’ll call when we want to go back to the hotel. Pisa’s bout won’t be over for a few more hours.”
Sebastian grinned and leaned down to the driver’s side door and spoke to the driver. He tapped the door when he was done and stood again, and the window rolled up. The driver pulled away and then Sebastian was all hers again.
She
put her hand out for him to take, and he did, and then she all but raced up the stairs, keys in hand.
Pisa was on the second floor of a town house setup, and inside the apartment was most of the furniture they’d had at the old place, since it was Pisa’s anyhow. There was the enormous low-backed sofa. There was the coffee table, the dining room table with the scratches on it from Chelsea’s soap-making experiments gone wrong. There were the art-deco posters of roller derby that she’d given Pisa for Christmas last year that gave a fun, kitschy vibe to the apartment.
And of course, if Sebastian moved into the apartment and peeked over the edge of the sofa, he’d see Chelsea’s nest of blankets, pillows, DVDs, and empty pretzel bags.
Definitely not on the same level as Sebastian’s cool, chic town house in NYC.
She immediately felt bad and started to straighten up, picking up things and adjusting pillows. “Pisa’s place isn’t normally a mess like this. I’m slobbing her up, I’m afraid.”
“I don’t care how it looks,” he said, taking a throw pillow from her hands and setting it back down on the couch. “I’m not here to judge her decor or to even see her. I’m here to see you. To bring you home with me, if you’ll come.”
“I want to come,” she said eagerly, and then blushed when she realized what it sounded like. “That way, too.”
“Then get your derby gear on, baby.” He grinned and his hands went to her shirt. “Or do you need help changing?”
“I know how to put it on,” she said, laughing. She batted his hands away. “Or is this you asking for a striptease?”
“I wouldn’t say no.” His hands moved to her hips again. “As long as I get to touch.”
She slid away. “Once the uniform is on, you can.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “Show me where you want me. You’re in charge.”
Chelsea bit her lip and then looked around the tiny living room. There wasn’t a lot of room in front of the couch, what with the coffee table and all. And they were probably going to move to the bed anyhow, once she got her groove on. Although, she had been sleeping on the couch . . . Well, she’d figure that out later. She put her hands on Sebastian’s arms and backed him up a few feet, so he was between the door and the sofa. “You stay right there. You can look but don’t touch.”
The Billionaire Takes a Bride Page 23
