“It’s not about what you want,” Chelsea said. “It’s about what Sebastian wants.” She grabbed Gretchen by the arm and all but dragged her out of the restaurant.
By the time they made it out to the street, she was seething. And, okay, a little hurt. Who did that woman think she was? How dare she dive-bomb Chelsea and try to get a scene on camera for their stupid show?
And worst of all, she thought Chelsea wasn’t good enough for Sebastian? That stung, mostly because Chelsea worried about the same thing.
She was a girl who brought nothing to the relationship but a fucked-up head and an inability to have sex. Didn’t Sebastian deserve better than that?
On that front, she worried that Mrs. Cabral was right. Maybe he would have been better off with Plastic Lisa.
“Come on,” Gretchen said, tugging Chelsea down the street. “I see that rage-face you’re making, and you know what would fix that?”
“Chocolate?”
“Well, I was going to say ‘handcuffs at the sex store’ but I’m down with chocolate.” Gretchen brightened and steered her toward a bakery.
“What about your diet?”
“I’ll start it again tomorrow.”
* * *
Several hours later, Chelsea returned to the town house with a few bags of purchases. She had sexy lingerie, a vibrator, handcuffs, and flavored lubricant. It had taken everything she had to convince Gretchen not to buy her one of everything so she could “explore her feelings.” Really, she just wanted to throw all of the stuff back into the bag and chuck it.
But she had to try and work through things, didn’t she? She owed Sebastian that much, she supposed.
You’re not good enough for Sebastian.
Damn it. Now she was going to see Mrs. Cabral’s sour face in her mind every time she thought about Sebastian. She pulled out the handcuffs and considered.
Was Gretchen right? Was she going about this all wrong and needed to explore fetishes? Did she need to masturbate more? Did she need to reawaken herself before she could expect Sebastian to “awaken” whatever it was that was dormant inside her?
She sighed, frustrated, and hid the purchases in the top drawer of the dresser. Why couldn’t she just kiss a man like a normal girl and hope for the best?
The thought bothered her even as she headed up to the spare bedroom she’d set up as her soap-making shop. Normally she was excited to get a few designer soaps from other stores. She studied the ingredient list and the scents, and tested the texture of the soap and how long the lather and the fragrance lasted. But today, she was distracted. Soaps held no fun for her.
She kept thinking about Sebastian. And she kept thinking about her “problem.”
Sebastian was probably downstairs in his study. He spent a lot of the daytime hours in there, sketching and listening to music. Even now she could hear classical music strains through the walls, at odds with the Spin Doctors CD she had in her player at the moment. Sometimes they went out to the park together and people watched, and she relaxed while Sebastian sketched.
She was starting to crave being in his presence, and that worried her. What if she grew totally dependent on him like she did Pisa? What if she couldn’t function without him?
What if, when their arrangement ended, he went on and dated someone new and left her to fend for herself? She’d still be half a person. A completely sexless robot of a girl.
And she kind of hated the thought.
She put down the thick brick of lavender soap she was cutting and brushed her hands off. Returning to the bedroom, she dug through the dresser she’d claimed as hers since she wasn’t staying in the guest bedroom anymore. She pulled out the bag of “fun” that Gretchen had insisted she buy. There was a lacy pair of panties with a heart cut-out on the butt that were kind of cute. And the handcuffs. She kept coming back to those.
Maybe she needed to give things a try after all. Take a leap of faith.
Trust Sebastian.
She began to undress.
Chapter Seventeen
Chelsea headed downstairs dressed in nothing but the skimpy pair of heart panties. Her breasts were loose and jiggled with each step, and her hair was down and around her shoulders. She had a few bruises on her legs from derby, but they were faded, and she knew her legs looked damn good because of her constant skating.
The handcuffs were gripped in her hand, so tightly that her palms were sweating. In her other hand she carried lube and a condom. She could do this. She could. It was no big deal.
Her plan?
Cuff Sebastian to the bed. Take control. Climb on top of him and have sex.
Problem solved, everyone cured.
Except . . . she was awfully nervous at the moment. Like sick-to-her-stomach nervous. And that wasn’t good for inducing sexy play with someone. She wished she had her damn skates on. She always felt badass in those. Instead, she was barefoot and feeling awkward.
Better to get this over with, she supposed. She could treat it like a Band-Aid. Get it done quickly. That wasn’t very sexy, either, but it was sensible. So she sucked in a deep breath and steeled herself, then knocked on his door.
“Come on in,” he called over the strains of violins.
While that was a nice thought, her hands were full at the moment. She considered the round doorknob, and then the items in her hands. And she waited.
“I said come in,” he called again, and she heard him get up from his desk. “Chelsea, what—”
The door opened.
She forgot to strike a sexy pose. Instead she stood there, nearly naked, certainly topless, clutching a bottle of lube, a condom, and some handcuffs.
“What—” he repeated hoarsely, and then ran a hand down his face, leaving a graphite streak on his cheek.
“Surprise,” she said in a shaky voice, holding up the items. “I thought maybe we could have a little fun?”
His green eyes were wide, and he gazed at her up and down. Her nipples prickled and her skin grew covered in goose bumps. She didn’t know if it was fear, anxiety, or arousal.
Probably not arousal, considering her stomach was still churning like she was going to barf.
“Chelsea . . . are you sure?”
“Why not?”
“Because all we’ve done so far is kiss. I thought you wanted to take things slow?” He gestured at her. “This is . . . breathtaking, but it’s not slow.”
“It’s fine,” she said, and hoped her body would catch up to her brain. She gestured at the stairs. “Wanna go up to the bedroom?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“Then let’s go.” Without waiting to see if he was going to follow, she raced back up the stairs. Her nerves were definitely getting the better of her, because she was acting like an idiot. It wasn’t even like sex was anything new to her. She’d had it plenty of times.
But when he wrapped his arms around her from behind and began to kiss her neck? She had to fight back the urge to run away. It wasn’t Sebastian that was the problem. It was all her.
She slid out of his grip and held the handcuffs up. “We’re going to use these, all right? I’m still feeling a little strange, so I want control. Total control. If you’re game.”
He eyed the handcuffs, then her, and nodded. “I trust you.” He moved toward the bed and then gestured. “How do you want me?”
She couldn’t say “On the other side of the house,” could she? Maybe she should have started with masturbating. Eased herself back into being sexual. Too late for that. Chelsea chewed on her lip, feeling weird and stupidly naked. “On the bed with your hands over your head, please.”
“Undressed or dressed?”
She considered for a moment. “Dressed?”
“Works for me.” He bounded onto the bed and laid flat, then stretched his arms over his head. One of his hands was dirty with graphite from his pencils, and the smear remained on his cheek. She smoothed it off his skin before reaching over to cuff his hands to the wooden slats on the bed.