by Katee Robert
“Oh good. I’d hoped you would say that. And I’m hoping that means he’s under you.” She winked.
Chelsea laughed. “Perhaps later.”
“That’s my girl.” A knock sounded on the door, this one far more polite than Danielle’s had been. “And that’s my cue to leave. Have fun, rock his world, and I’ll see you on Sunday night—unless you need a rescue wingman.” Nathan opened the door and she sailed out of the room. “I’ll keep my phone on me,” she said over her shoulder. “You know, just in case.”
Nathan watched her walk down the hall. “Your friend just pinched my ass.”
“She’s terrible with personal boundaries.”
“So I noticed.”
Her phone chose that moment to trill, and Chelsea practically dove for it. If Danielle forgot something, she needed to take care of it before the woman came back to the room and said—or pinched—something else. “Hello?”
“Chelsea.”
The bottom of her stomach dropped out. She sat on the edge of the bed because she wasn’t sure her legs would hold her. “Hi, Dad.”
“I can’t talk long, but I wanted to confirm that you’ll be coming into Spokane early next week for your grandmother’s party. Your mother wanted me to convey that she’s made you several beauty appointments she expects you to keep so you’ll look suitable for the family interview. I’ve had my assistant e-mail you the expected questions so you can study up.”
Of course he’d think she needed to study. She was the weak link, the one most likely to embarrass him. Especially when compared to her perfect sister who could do no wrong. She glanced at Nathan, her gaze drawn to him despite her better judgment. He stood against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, a forbidding look on his face. Chelsea closed her eyes and strove for calm. If her father only knew exactly what her past could do to his future, he’d never forgive her. She cleared her throat. “Of course.”
“I’m sure I don’t have to explain to you how important it is to present the correct image. At this point, anything could tip the balance against us.” Anything like a secret marriage he didn’t know about. “And on that note, for God’s sake, take down those nudes in your gallery. They’re vulgar.”
A protest rose—and stuck in her throat. It didn’t matter to her father that her photographs sold for obscene amounts of money. All he cared about was that they reflected badly on him. “I’ll take care of it.”
“See that you do. And don’t forget to read the e-mail.” A voice sounded in the background. “There’s some business that needs taken care of. I’ll see you in a few days.”
There always was. She tried to put some smile into her voice. “Sure. I’ll see you next week.”
She set her phone to the side, her hand shaking. If her father knew what she was doing this weekend— whom she was doing it with—he’d have all the confirmation he needed that she was his greatest disappointment. It was bad enough that she hadn’t followed his plan for her life—pre-law, law school, and eventually a career as a politician or a politician’s wife—but she’d married a boy her family would never approve of behind his back.
Worse, she’d let that marriage last eight years. Nathan moved, drawing her attention back to him.
He smiled, though the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’re apparently going on a brewery tour by canoe in half an hour, so that should be interesting. I believe it was Elle’s friend, Roxanne, who suggested that one.”
The last thing she wanted right now was to be around other people. She needed time to think—to center herself. “Please don’t make me go.”
He hesitated, seeming to debate something with himself. “It might get your mind off things.”
Off the conversation she’d just had, he meant. Chelsea forced a laugh. “I guess I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
“You’ve always had a choice.You made a different one eight years ago when you stood up to them.”
He thought he could throw that in her face? “And look how well that worked out.”
He flinched and she instantly regretted her words, but it was too late to take them back now. A few more days. She could last a few more days. Once this was over, she’d never have to see that hurt look on his face again.
8
After she snapped at him, Nathan chose not to push her until after they were in the canoes. From the short answers, he guessed she’d been on the phone with her father, on the receiving end of yet another detailed set of instructions. The fact she sat there and took it broke his damn heart. He’d had to fight himself not to reach across and take the phone away.
It wasn’t his place. She’d made that abundantly clear when she verbally slapped him down. At this point, he wasn’t sure it’d ever be his place again.
He dug his paddle into the water, watching the way her back moved under her white shirt as she did the same. Her roommate had packed the most unpractical clothing imaginable: an evening gown, a winter coat, and what looked to be half of Chelsea’s closet. Obviously she hadn’t spent much time out of the city if that’s what she thought was needed for a resort surrounded by trees. After some searching, Chelsea had come up with the plain white tank top and a pale blue skirt that hit just above her knees. Very light and flirty.
Despite the tension between them, he wanted to tear it off with his teeth.
The guide captaining the canoe at the front of their small fleet droned on with so-called fun facts about the Columbia Gorge and the brewery they’d visit, but Nathan couldn’t care less. The only thing he cared about was the woman sitting in front of him, her spine painfully straight.
He wasn’t sure how to broach this silence between them. He hated seeing her visibly deflate after that phone call, but the look she’d sent him when he’d helped her into the canoe warned him away from trying to comfort her. If she wouldn’t accept so much as a hug from him when she was hurting, getting her to open up was going to be more challenging than he expected. Maybe he should just stick to the sex—blow each other’s minds, get some closure, and walk away.
Even as he considered that option, he discarded it. Sex had only been the first part of the plan—a plan he’d already adjusted so many times, he barely recognized it anymore. It had seemed so simple when he thought the only obstacle was breaking through her defenses so she’d sit up and give them a real chance. How the hell was he supposed to go about rebuilding the trust between them? Sex would only take them so far, even if it was possible to gain trust that way.
He needed a better gauge on where her head was at right now, so he tried what they used to do best.Talk. “What sort of subject matter have you been working with?”
She glanced back at him. “Vulgar nudes, apparently.”
It didn’t take a genius to figure out where that term had come from. He was ashamed to admit he hadn’t followed her work as closely as he’d followed news of her gallery. Probably because he’d been half afraid of what he might see. Art was the true window to the soul, after all.
He’d never have guessed she’d move from doing landscapes to nude portraits, though. It brought home just how much he didn’t know about the person she’d grown into. “Tell me about them.”
“I’m not really in the mood to chat right now.”
She sounded so damn tired, he wanted to pull her into his lap and hold her. “Come on. Humor me.”
“Oh good grief. Fine. They’re black-and-white close-ups. In most of them you can’t even tell what part of the body you’re looking at. To me, it’s more about the angles and slopes and textures the shadows on the skin create.”
Her shoulders relaxed as she talked, but he didn’t think she noticed. Chelsea had always been passionate about art. “That doesn’t sound vulgar.”
“They’re beautiful.” She seemed to shake herself. “But that’s beside the point. Some people find them offensive.”
“Those people don’t know what they’re missing.”
A small smile passed over her lips. “I a
gree, but it’s not up to me.” Just like that, the sadness was back, pulling her shoulders down as if the weight of the world had resettled on them.
God, what he wouldn’t give to take that burden away. On impulse, he said,“Tell me what it would take.”
“What what would take?”
“What it would take to make things right between us. So that you can trust me again.” Maybe if she could give him a definitive thing to accomplish, he’d know where to begin.
Her shoulders slumped farther. “There’s nothing you can do to fix this, Nathan. I already told you that.” “There has to be.” He hated feeling like this, at a loss despite his plan being in place.
“There isn’t some mystical answer. You can’t just snap your fingers and make everything be the same way it was between us.”
He got that—both parts of it. Hell, he hadn’t really expected anything else, though he’d had to ask. “Who said I want it to be the same way it was between us? I kind of like the dynamic we have now.”
“You enjoy blackmailing me? Lovely.”
He chose to ignore that. “You know what else I enjoy? The way you take what I give and throw it right back at me. You never would have done that before.”
“I was a seventeen-year-old girl when we met. Of course I didn’t have the self confidence to do… anything…back then.”
“I like it.” He leaned forward. “You want to know what I’ve been thinking about since we got in this canoe?”
She looked over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes. “Probably not.”
“I’ve been thinking about ripping that skirt off you and finishing what we started this morning.”
She flushed, but then visibly pulled herself back together. “Is my skirt bothering you, Nathan?”
There it was. That spark of defiance. He barely kept the smile off his face as she glanced over to where the rest of the group had disappeared around a bend in the river, then twisted to face him fully, giving him an eyeful of her legs. His mouth watered as she lifted the hem of her skirt a few inches, until it reached the tops of her thighs.
“Mmm,” she said with a smile. “Are you distracted? Because I’d hate to be the cause of that.”
“Liar.” All she’d have to do was spread her legs and he’d be able to see what color panties she was wearing. Finding out the answer to that question suddenly seemed vital. He gripped the canoe paddle so tightly, it was a wonder it didn’t break in half. “Spread your legs for me, baby.”
She tapped her lips, making a show of considering. “Like this?” Her knees inched apart, and he forgot how to breathe. So much for him remaining in control, but this woman was a force to be reckoned with now, and he wanted to see more.
He also wanted her so badly he was tempted to drag her to the bottom of the canoe and fuck her right there in front of God, nature, and all their friends, should any of them venture back around the bend to watch.
Her knees finally hit the inner edges of the canoe, baring everything to him. He swallowed hard.“Orange looks good on you.”
“Do you really think so?” The only warning he got was her hand snaking up her leg, and then she slipped her fingers beneath the triangle of orange silk. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the hint of movements. She was playing with herself right in front of him and he couldn’t goddamn see.
“Take them off.”
She arched her back, her hardened nipples clearly visible through her shirt. “No.”The word came out like a moan, all breathy and low.
If he didn’t touch her right now, he might actually die.
He set the paddle aside and went to his knees in front of her. She was beautiful and wild and free in this moment, a far cry from the woman who’d started this canoe trip. He ran his hands up her thighs, stopping just short of her panties. As much as he wanted to touch her, he loved seeing her touch herself. For him.
Nathan cursed and pulled her panties to the side to watch her fingers circling her clit. “Does that feel good, baby?”
“Yes.”
He squeezed her thighs, thumbs sliding higher. “Are you close? I fucking bet you are. Keep touching yourself. I want you to come—right here, right now.”
She went tense, as if just now realizing she was no longer the one in control. He wanted to shove her hand to the side and drive her out of her mind, but his ultimate goal wouldn’t let him. “Can I touch you?”
“You’re asking for permission?”
If she didn’t say yes, he’d jump into the damn river, but he refused to push this. He nodded once.
She took a shaky breath and closed her eyes. “Touch me.”
Chelsea wouldn’t give control of her body over to just anyone, but he was less worried about his plan moving in the right direction than he was dealing with the overwhelming need to make her come. Nathan brushed her hand aside and pushed two fingers into her. “Rub your clit.”
Her breath came out in a sob as she obeyed, shifting forward, trying to push him deeper. When her movements became jerky, he twisted his hand and pressed his fingers against that spot inside her. Chelsea gave a sharp cry, her entire body going tight around him.
He would never get tired of making his woman come like that.
“Is everything okay?”
He looked over to find the guide paddling in their direction, a concerned look on his face. Shit. He went to yank her skirt back into place, but she was already moving, trying to do the same and spin back around to face the front, making the canoe wobble dangerously. He tried to correct their balance, but it was too late.
The canoe flipped, sending them both tumbling into the water. Being submerged in the cold river shocked his breath from his lungs and threatened to freeze his muscles in place. Nathan surfaced, his head still ringing, and turned in a full circle to make sure she was okay. Before he had a chance to panic, Chelsea came up, gasping. She splashed him in the face. “What is wrong with you?”
“With me? This is as much your fault as it is mine.” “I wasn’t the one rocking the boat.”
A canoe cut between them, the guide glaring at them both. “Hang onto the sides until I can get you closer to shore.”
As they were dragged toward the bank, he had a few seconds to actually think about what just happened. About how easily he’d been able to coax her out of her sadness and into a woman confident enough to tease him mercilessly. She might be pissed at him now that they were sopping wet and half frozen, but he wouldn’t do a damn thing differently.
The guide pulled to a stop. “Can you swim the rest of the way? I’m going to try to flip the canoe back and tow it to shore.”
Nathan nodded. It was less than twenty feet away.
He heard Chelsea confirm that she could as well.
The guide pointed. “Get moving.”
Feeling like a kid who’d been put in time-out, Nathan followed instructions. He was all too aware of Gabe’s and Ian’s eyes on him as he passed their boats. Apparently everyone had come back for them.
Elle leaned forward, making her own canoe rock unsteadily.“Are you okay? I heard a splash and looked back and you were in the water.”
“Just got a little too excited and rocked the boat,” he said. “We’re fine.”
Behind him, Ian snorted. “Oh yeah. Fine. Most definitely.”
And of course Roxanne had to have her say. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.”
“That didn’t sound like nothing.”
Nathan kept going, ignoring their lighthearted bickering. He reached the dock in a few short strokes and pulled himself out of the water. Then he turned around to watch Chelsea make her way over. She looked like a cat who’d been thrown into the bathtub, her hair stringy around her face and her makeup running like crazy.
She still looked beautiful despite all of that. He reached out a hand. “Come on.”
“I’m okay.” She thrashed her way onto the dock like a fish out of water and hauled herself to her feet, breathing hard. The fact she wouldn�
��t accept even that much help from him after what they’d just done stung, but this wasn’t the time or place to call her on it.
It was only then that Nathan noticed how transparent her clothes were. Apparently she’d gone with a white bra because he could very distinctly make out her nipples beneath her tank top. Thank God her skirt was made of a slightly thicker material, or she’d be worse than naked. As it was, she was showing way too much of her body. He yanked off his shirt. “Put this on.”
She sidestepped him. “Nathan, it’s really okay.”
All too aware of the men docking their canoes, he thrust it at her again. “Now.”
“I’m already wet and disgusting, and I’m sure I look like a drowned rat.” She touched her hair gingerly. “I don’t want to put on your wet shirt, too.”
The guide apparently had given up the half- sunken canoe for a lost cause because he’d just reached the dock. His eyes went wide at the sight of Chelsea, her curves bared to anyone who wanted to look. Nathan was pretty sure he heard the other man mutter, “Damn.”
It was Gabe who came to the rescue. After helping Elle out of their canoe, he took off his dry shirt, leaving only a ribbed tank top in its place, which bared his tattoo sleeve.“Here, Chelsea.You’re not quite decent.”
She glanced down at her chest and yelped.“Oh my God.” She wrapped her arms around her chest, which didn’t do a whole lot. But she let Gabe drape his shirt over her, which effectively covered her. She clutched the shirt together in the front and turned pleading eyes on Nathan. “Can we go back to the hotel? Please?”
He nodded. There was no point in trying to go to the brewery with the rest of the party now that they were soaked. “Yeah.”
The guide stepped in, all smiles in Chelsea’s direction.“Let me just call the hotel. I’m sure they’ll be more than willing to send a car or something out here.”
She gave him a tentative smile. “Thank you.” “It’s my pleasure.”