“I’m taking a shower and going to bed. Good night.”
He grabbed her by the arm and held her in place. “No, you’re not.”
Chelsea froze for a second then simultaneously stomped at his instep and twisted her wrist from his grasp. He simply released her, dodged the kick and grabbed her other elbow as well, effectively pinning her in place before him.
“Let me go,” she demanded.
“We’re going to talk. Don’t run away, don’t start throwing things.”
Chelsea tossed her head back and glared. “I don’t throw things, and I don’t run. You’re the one that runs away.”
He nodded slowly and as his fingers released her she jerked back a step.
“What were you doing tonight, Chelsea?” The dark tone in his voice made a tiny flame of hope start to rise. “You were looking for trouble before, but tonight?”
He stroked a hand down her arm and she found it hard to swallow.
“You know that I dance. I’ve asked you a million times to come and watch, and you never have. So what’s different about tonight? The fact I had someone in the audience who appreciated me?”
“They all appreciate you, baby. Every one of those men there tonight would have loved to be the one going home with you.”
“Except you,” she said softly.
The confusion in his eyes was clear. “Tonight wasn’t the first time I’ve watched you. I’ve wrestled with myself every damn time you dance and I’m usually there in the back, wanting to murder the men admiring you. Wanting to race up on that stage and pull you off and wrap you up so no one can see your beautiful body.”
He’d watched before? “Why have you never said anything?”
He rubbed his hands up the sides of her arms again, smoothing his palms over her shoulders. “I had no right.”
She waited. Hoping he’d say something more. Do something more. He just kept touching her arms, stroking her hair. It was all so surreal and confusing.
“Stop it.” She shrugged away from him, stepping closer to the fireplace and the long French doors to the patio. The lights of the harbor were visible off in the distance where the pier curved away from the land. Faint pinpricks of light that echoed the faint hope glowing in her heart. She turned to face him.
“So you watched. You wanted to cover me up. Fine, thanks for sharing. Does it make any difference at all? Because from what you’ve said to me tonight, I don’t see anything changing, and if that’s the case, then I’m having that shower and hitting the sack. Alone. Again. Like I have for the past year.”
“Chelsea, I’ve wanted to make love with you—”
“Bullshit.” Tears were threatening, and soon there would be no stopping them. She was so bloody frustrated it was a good thing they weren’t in the kitchen or she’d be tempted to throw a knife or two. “Don’t give me any more of your crap.”
She dashed the tears from her eyes, annoyed that she’d let him bring her to this place. She was a strong woman, independent. She didn’t need his approval or his love. She turned her back on him and wrapped her arms around herself to hold in the anger.
“Baby—”
“Go away. I don’t want to discuss this anymore.”
“We’re not done,” he growled out. “You have a crazy way of holding a conversation.”
Arrogant bastard. She spun on her heel to confront him. “This isn’t a conversation. It’s an accusation. You want to bring it back to a discussion? Fine. Tell me what you’re planning on doing about this.”
One move ripped off her jacket. His gaze dropped to her chest, to the bikini cups shaped like giant shells barely covering her breasts. She slipped a hand behind her and pulled the string, ripping the fabric from her body and tossing it at him. One more move stripped away her thong and she stood naked before him.
Braden’s eyes grew dark but his unfathomable expression never changed. “Fuck, Chelsea, what do you want me to do? Turn my back on everything I believe is right and just have sex with you?”
“Who the hell made you my moral adviser? Is it your job to go around seeing that all the merfolk are screwing only approved partners? I’ve heard about every one of your exploits, and you have the balls to say having sex with me would be wrong? Don’t be such a fucking hypocrite. Face it, Braden, either you want me or you don’t.”
She held out her arms and pivoted on the spot, letting her arms rise above her head until she was back facing him, breasts thrust forward, legs parted. He stared at her, still expressionless and she gave up. Her heart was breaking inside as she lowered her arms.
“Sorry you didn’t like what you see enough to make a play for it. Good night, Braden.”
It was only three steps. Only three steps would get her past him and she could run to her room, hide away and let the tears fall.
He didn’t let her take more than one. His arms wrapped around her, clutching her against his solid body as his mouth stole her very breath away.
Chapter Five
Enough. He’d waited and resisted and fought it for long enough, and now there was no turning back. She slipped into his arms and against him like she was meant to be there, every succulent inch of her bare skin open to his touch, to his possession. He clasped her close and lifted until her mouth reached his lips, her warm smooth torso sliding up his chest. Their tongues fought, teeth knocking together. She responded eagerly, her fingers curled around his head as she held their lips together and allowed him to ravish her mouth.
The heat between them was incredible, his skin burning from within like she’d lit a fire, and he growled with displeasure at the fabric separating them. Still connected, still clutching each other, he ripped his shirt apart. The instant contact between her unbound breasts and his chest made him hiss. Scalding hot, the bountiful mounds pressed into him, and he tore his mouth away from hers to hike her torso higher and latch his mouth to one turgid peak. He nipped and sucked hard, her nipple hitting the roof of his mouth and Chelsea cried out with a breathless gasp. He eased back slightly, afraid that he’d been too rough in his mindless haze.
“Don’t stop. Oh shit, Braden, yes, more.” She thrust out her chest, the wet skin of her nipple rubbing against his cheek. He turned his head and caught it again, laving his tongue over the peak with harsh, rapid strokes until she began to moan, a deep needy noise rising from her core.
Braden took a single step toward the hallway, intent on taking her to her bedroom, or at least attempting to reach the room. But she wiggled in his arms, her heated core grinding against his abdomen. Her pussy was wet, juices coating his skin, and he swore.
“Right here, right now. Oh, please,” she panted.
“Chelsea, are you sure? Owww…”
The minx had him by the ear, pulling and tugging to turn his face to hers. She glared at him, fiery blue light shining from her eyes. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you. I can’t say it any clearer than that.”
She relaxed her death grip and snuck her hands down his torso, scratching her brightly painted nails over his chest, leaving eight narrow red streaks in their wake as she reached for the button on his waistband.
He dropped to the floor and rolled her on top of him. While their mouths connected to continue their breathless kissing, he rid himself of his jeans, kicking them off his feet with abandon. He wrapped his arms around her soft body, his hands seeking and finding all the spots that made her sing in pleasure. He cupped her breasts, sucking each one in turn as she squirmed in his lap, her slick pussy lips raking the length of his erection. Wetting him, making him ready for the moment they would join together.