The Billionaire Takes a Bride (Billionaires and Bridesmaids, #3)(56)

She just happened to have trouble with all of it.

“When we kissed?” he guessed. “Do you think it was just nerves?”

“Maybe that was it,” she said quickly, leaping on the idea. “Want to try again?”

“We can, but I don’t want you to pressure yourself.” He stroked his thumbs over the backs of her hands. “No pressure, all right? If it’s not fun, it’s not worth it.”

“But it’s fun for you,” she sniffed.

The expression on his face was downright agonized. “Not if you’re not enjoying it.”

And that was what made Sebastian different from the man who had taken so much from her. Whoever it had been hadn’t cared if she was into it, or that she was drugged out of her mind and tied up so she couldn’t fight. That person had just wanted a convenient warm body to f*ck and forget.

Sebastian wanted her. Chelsea. And he wanted her to enjoy his touches.

And god, she so desperately wanted to enjoy them, too.

Please, she said silently, and then patted the corner of the bed next to her. “Come sit?”

“Remember your safe word.”

Like she could forget it. It was branded into her mind as a thing she loathed to use but had no choice. Chelsea touched his cheek and guided his mouth down to hers. His lips caressed hers oh so gently, tongue brushing against the part of her mouth. He smelled good, tasted better. His kiss was soft, sweet, and gentle.

And she felt . . . absolutely nothing. That part of her mind had shut off again.

She pulled away, new, fresh tears rising. “I don’t understand what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you,” he said, brushing a lock of wet hair off her forehead. “Other than being completely amazing in every way.”

“Every way but this one,” she pointed out bitterly.

“So you have a hang-up. You’ll get over it. I’m patient enough to wait for you.”

But you said you loved me. Will that wait too? She was dying to know, but too scared to ask. How long would his caring and affection last if he got nothing in return from her except a wife who couldn’t sleep with the lights off and grew utterly detached the moment he kissed her?

“Maybe we should go back to the locker room,” she muttered, frustrated. “Everything was awesome there, wasn’t it?”

His eyes lit up. “Aha.”

“What? Aha what?”

“Why was it you started playing derby again?” There was a wicked sparkle in his eye that made her wonder what he was getting at.

Chelsea tightened the robe about her and considered. “I started playing because I went to a practice and met the girls.”

“Yeah, but why derby? What about it appealed to you?”

He was getting at something, but she was too upset and frustrated and tired to follow along. She shrugged. “They looked so strong and confident on the track. Tough. Like nothing could bother them . . .” Her words trailed off and her eyes widened. She sat up straight. “You think it worked earlier because I was Chesty LaRude instead of me?”

“I think it was still you,” Sebastian said, leaning back on the bed, resting on his palms. “But I think that your confidence comes on the moment you put on your skates. It’s you, but it’s you when you know you’re untouchable and badass. Invulnerable.”

Was it all just a total mind game after all? “So . . . you think I should put on my skates?”

“Put on the whole uniform,” he said. “We can give it a shot. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I roll down the stairs and break my neck?”

“I won’t let you anywhere near the stairs. How’s that?”

Could it work? She was almost scared to try. But that quick round of heavy petting in the locker room had been so wonderful. She’d felt so alive. So normal. Utterly perfect in his arms.

She wanted to find that again. So she jumped up off the bed and raced across the room to get her derby bag.

Her uniform was sweaty and gross after playing all night, but she had another one in her closet, so she pulled out her skates and then went to the closet. Out came the teeny, tiny pleated skirt that was more ruffle than anything else. Out came the Y-backed tank-top with RAG QUEENS on it in glittering rhinestones. She thought about the shoulder pads and knee guards, but opted against them. They tended to hold onto sweat and stink.

On went the striped knee socks, and then she began to dress. She skipped the bra, letting her breasts jiggle loose and free under the uniform. And, okay, she felt a bit more confident like that, and definitely more naughty. The fabric rubbed against her nipples, reminding her that Sebastian had sucked on them earlier, and she’d loved that. She’d felt it all through her body, right down to her core.

On went the tiny ruffle of her skirt. Underneath that, she normally wore her bright yellow spankies, but on a whim, she left them off. The lack of them left the lower half of her ass bare, and her pubic hair was just barely peeking out from under the front.

“Oh, f*ck, that’s sexy,” Sebastian breathed. He hadn’t left his spot on the bed, as if approaching her might somehow ruin the moment. His hands were locked tight at his side, but his gaze was riveted to her. “I approve of the wardrobe changes.”

For some reason, so did she. Putting her uniform back on was getting her back into her zone. She felt . . . sexy. Strong. She bent and laced up one skate, then the other, and then stood, hands on hips.