Breathe for Me(29)

“No.” Of course not. The thought was sickening.

“No one. Understand?”

She nodded. He really didn’t need to emphasize it. She wasn’t the one most likely, whereas the total stud that he was? He’d have been fending them off in the hotel lobby.

His expression lightened fractionally. “You want to know how I spent my evenings?”

She nodded.

His voice dropped. “I spent every one alone in my room dreaming up new scenarios for you.”

She touched her tongue to her lips.

“Holding your breath again?” His chuckle warmed her cheek. “Baby, you’ve got to learn to breathe. In fact, you’ve got to learn to…”

She waited for him to finish the sentence. But he didn’t.

“I tapped out so many text messages to you,” he said instead. “Didn’t send one.”

“Why not?”

He didn’t answer. He seemed to be waiting for something.

Chelsea watched him. Waiting. Aching for him to touch her. Surely he knew it—couldn’t he sense how her limbs were trembling? Couldn’t he smell her arousal in the small space between them?

“You want a coffee or something?” she asked nervously as the silence grew unbearable. “Have you eaten?”

He growled, finally pulling her close. Willingly she went into his arms as he melded her to his body.

“I’m staying the whole night,” he decreed, already putting a hand down her skirt even as he walked her backward into her apartment and kicked her door shut. “I’m a fugitive on the run with no home to go to and a driving need for physical intimacy. You’re giving me the comfort of your home and body. For the whole night.”

She didn’t argue. Didn’t deny.

“I should warn you I’m going to need a lot,” he said.

“I should warn you I’m very dirty.” She held up her hands.

He chuckled. “I don’t mind.”

As it turned out, Xander liked dirty.



An hour later Chelsea returned to the living room after a quick shower. Xander sat on the floor wearing only boxers as he carefully separated and transplanted her small herbs into the containers they’d be in for the display.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, looking guiltily at the dirt already wedged under his fingertips.

He looked over the top of the pot he was holding. “I know I don’t have to, I want to.” He went back to the task.

Chelsea sat opposite and resumed transplanting a few million more of her own. To her surprise, Xander kept pace, his hands working gently and quickly.

“You’re pretty efficient,” she said.

“I used to grow vegetables for my mother,” he said, carefully pressing a small plant into position.

“Those red peppers, huh?”

“You got it,” he winked.

So they’d grown their own? Had he had a totally at-home cook-grow-create kind of mom? Nice.

“My mother gives me horrendous gardening advice,” she said to keep the line of conversation open. “Endlessly.”

He laughed. “I know how it feels.” He glanced over at the long troughs she had ready for the transplanting.

“I bet your mom doesn’t call you as often as mine calls me.” Chelsea said wryly.

“Probably not. But maybe I get more intense sessions when she does,” he chuckled.

“Do you have siblings?” Chelsea asked, unable to stifle her curiosity.

He shook his head.

“Does your mother have a new partner?”

He shook his head again. “How did you smuggle all this stuff in? I don’t think they want market gardens established in the apartments.”

Chelsea smiled. Yeah, he didn’t want to talk family. “Brad helped. So did Terry.”

“Ah, of course,” he drawled. “You have your bunch of heroes.”

“They’re not my heroes,” she denied with a frown.

He looked at her again. “They’d carry you off in a heartbeat.”

She felt her cheeks heat. “That’s not what I want.”

“No. No being rescued for you, huh?” His lips twisted wryly.

She shook her head.

“There’s nothing wrong with accepting a little help though, is there,” he sent her a sly look.

“I guess,” she answered softly, knowing he was making a point. And given her ‘help’ was all but naked, there was lots very, very right.

That night, she slept the best she had in months, held in his strong arms. She figured she was worn out from the backbreaking work and the intense sex. She had no nightmares—no dreams at all. Wasn’t remotely conscious of anything until she felt the gentle touches. The kisses. The suction on her nipples, the wicked tongue sliding south to her clit. A warm way to be woken—to make her open and easy. She smiled and opened her eyes. The moment she did, he slid to the hilt inside.

“Good morning,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to her throat.

She arched up, trying to let him plunge further to satisfy the searing hunger so deep inside. He chuckled as she clutched his butt to stop him slipping too far out. He established a rolling, maddening rhythm. She moaned. She could so get used to this.

“Always ready for me. Always willing.”

She wasn’t sure if it was a comment, or an order, but satisfaction at his pleasure smoldered in her cells. His intensity heated her own.

He pulled back and circled his hips teasingly before thrusting harder. “Come.”

That was an order. And one she couldn’t ignore.

He watched her. She knew he watched her. And it was only when she tipped over the edge that she felt him gather his strength and channel it into her in long driving movements.

An hour later he roused her again with a shake to her shoulder. “I’m going for a dip on the roof.”

“You swim everyday?” she asked sleepily.

“Absolutely.” He shot her a look. “I like the feel of the sun on my back.” He paused, like he was waiting for her to reciprocate and say something more.

So she did. But she was wide awake now and it wasn’t about swimming. “And you run every day too?” Even Sundays?

The smallest sigh escaped him. “Yes.” He kissed her. “I’ll be back in an hour. Be ready for me.”

“Shall I even bother to get dressed?”

“Yes.” He laughed. “We’re going out.”

He’d gone before she’d had a chance to ask more.

She quickly showered and dressed, stupidly excited about the idea. This was going past their established boundaries again, but he’d been away and they’d missed a few nights, so this was just catch-up, right? He was probably taking her to a different venue—some outdoor sex perhaps, or a wild hotel in which to indulge some other outrageous fantasy?

She clenched her thighs together to stop her excitement mounting so soon and rolled her eyes at her physical reaction to mere thoughts. But it wasn’t just the sex she was anticipating so fiercely. It was just the fact she’d be spending more time with him.

“Where are we going?” she asked when he knocked on her door again.

“It’s a surprise.” He didn’t walk into her apartment but waited for her to walk out before checking her door. Then he took her hand and led her to the elevator and hit the button for the exit level.

Her nerves twanged sharply when he stepped out on the pavement and scanned the road. Less than ten seconds later a car service pulled in. Her discomfort must have been written on her face because he leaned close and kissed her. Another of those too-soothing, comforting kisses.

She pulled back and tried to tease, to keep them on the straight and sex-only. “You are so one track.”

“You love me for it.”

She snorted and shook her head as she got into the car—glad the action hid her eyes from his. Not love. Definitely not love. But she was beginning to like an awful lot.

“So where are we going?” she asked again when he slid into the back seat beside her and nodded for the driver to go.

“It’s a surprise.”

He wasn’t going to tell her. So she let him lead the conversation—telling her about the project he’d been working on in Houston. She told him about some of the other work her Institute had been doing.

Finally the car pulled over and she looked out the window. An aquarium? Seriously?

“What are we doing here?” she asked as she got out of the car.

“Just hanging out.”

He looked innocent enough but there was something in his tone. Something about it made her suspicious.

“Is it open?”

“Not to the public. They’re still fixing things after that last storm but they’re reopening any day.”