[Be for Me 01.0] Breathe for Me

by Natalie Anderson

  His shoulders lifted but he didn’t say anything else. Her frustration resurged.

  “I didn’t need that kind of help, Xander,” she said, pride surging again. “Not that ‘secret angel’ kind of thing. It makes me feel like I can’t do anything on my own. People have been helping me so much these last couple of years. For once I wanted to be the one to achieve things, to lead. Without the secret ‘let’s help out the hurt girl’ stuff.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” he grumped, every bit as frustrated. “Logan would never have gotten onboard if he wasn’t interested in the idea. He wouldn’t have done this just because I asked the favor. If it didn’t have its own merit, he’d have walked away without a second glance.”

  “Really?” It seemed to her those guys had a pretty tight bond. That they’d back each other to the wall if necessary.

  He inhaled deeply. “Well, he’d have tried to come up with another alternative. He wouldn’t have put it smack bang in the middle of his biggest partnership.” He looked at her. “And you have led this Chelsea. It’s all your idea, your effort. Hell, you’re the one who grew those plants from seed. And it’s brilliant. It looks bloody brilliant. And the damn pizza is delicious.” He held his hands out wide in an uncomprehending gesture. “You hate people helping you so much?”

  “Only because I’ve had so much of it, it makes me feel useless,” she said sadly. “I know that makes me sound ungrateful and I’m not really. But I just wanted that one thing to be mostly me.” She shook her head. “But how do you think I got to stay in this apartment block?” She turned away from him. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t do any of this on my own. Those guys built the foundation platform, Steve and Luisa did so much. So did you.”

  “Don’t go thinking that having people help you lessens you in any way. Everybody has help. Nobody does things in total isolation. It doesn’t make this any less yours, or any less your success.”

  She turned back. “Don’t you do everything in isolation? Aren’t you a total Superman—all capable all on your own?”

  “No.” He stomped across the room. “I have an amazing PA. She organizes everything. I have a great team working for me. And I have my buddies.”

  He was exaggerating things for her. He was tough and capable—so much more than she. She didn’t know why it bothered her so much. But it felt like all she’d wanted was slipping through her fingertips. Her independence, her achievements… everything she’d wanted wasn’t quite what she’d wanted. Not quite the way she’d wanted. Nothing was quite right and as crazy as it was, she didn’t know how to make it.

  But as she looked into his damn gorgeous eyes and saw that natural upturn to his lips, warmth trickled in, easing all those aches. Goose bumps lifted on her skin.

  Chemistry, Chelsea. This is just chemistry.

  Xander rolled his shoulders, trying to shake out the tension burning his muscles. Why should it bother him that she’d rejected his help? He shouldn’t want to help her, right? He shouldn’t be making this any more complicated. He didn’t want complicated or emotional. It was exactly what he’d sworn away from. He should have stayed away. He’d ended it already. Except he still wanted her. He couldn’t seem to stay away.

  Sex. Just sex.

  That’s what she wanted. And what he needed to take it back to. No more dates, no more meeting her outside her bedroom. Nothing but a quick screw and then home alone to sleep.

  Irritated, he could think of no tease tonight. No scenario for them to laugh through, to turn her on.

  But from the look in her eyes, he didn’t need one. He pressed her up against the wall, the need to dominate biting hard. Heat bloomed in her cheeks.

  “Don’t make a sound,” he instructed. “Not a sound.” He didn’t want to hear her ecstatic little sighs. This was just sex. Nothing else. No emotion. Her eyes widened and he saw her clamp down on her lip.

  It was so damn easy to excite her. Given he was already painfully hard, this was probably good. He leaned against her. Flattening her against the wood. Letting her feel just how hot he was.

  He heard her groan and paused. “No noise whatsoever.”

  He wanted to see her needing him. Hell, when had he needed the ego trip? But her hips writhed against his hand. She was wet and hot and her teeth tore at her lower lip as she tried to keep her sighs inside.

  “Uh huh.” He rubbed her lip with the tip of his finger. He didn’t want her hurting herself.

  It only took seconds to get her ready, to get himself sheathed—seconds too long.

  At last he slid home. Happiness burst through his chest. Hell he’d missed this. Missed being so close to her. But looking into her eyes was a mistake. He saw the slight pain hidden in there along with her desire. Suddenly it wasn’t enough. He needed more than this.

  “Damn it Chelsea.” She wrung so much from him. “Say something.”

  “Xander.” Her hand lifted.

  He grabbed it, held it to his jaw. Then he bent and kissed her. Taking the breath from her because this time he needed it. She kissed him back—soft and sweet and hungry and wild. His heart melted, warmth flooding his body as he closed his eyes and let it wash over him. So different. So good. And still not enough.

  An hour later Chelsea smiled as Xander slid down more comfortably in her bed. Clearly he had no intention of leaving for the rest of the night.

  Good.

  “Are you still mad with me for asking Logan to help?” he asked slyly.

  Oh was that what the incredible sex had been about—making her forget? She shook her head. “Tom always said…” She trailed off, suddenly chilled.

  “What?” Xander prompted softly. “It’s okay to say.”

  Yeah, it probably was. Chelsea took a breath. “He always teased me for taking things so seriously and always trying to do everything on my own. He said it was stupid.”

  “He was right.” Xander laughed. “He sounds nice.”

  “He was.” And it was also stupid the way her heart stuttered at Xander’s easiness in hearing about her former fiancé. She tried to steel herself. It was a good reminder that Xander wasn’t after a relationship—that the lapse in their initial boundaries didn’t actually mean anything more. Because if he was starting to fall for her, wouldn’t he go all jealous and not want to know a thing?

  She sure as hell never wanted to know about his past lovers. Jealousy surged at the mere thought. She hated them all. Worse, she was terrified she wasn’t a match for them in bed. The guy had experience. It oozed out of him. He hadn’t gotten to be such a hot lover with only the one other lay.

  “Tell me more about him,” Xander said.

  Yeah, see there you go. So not bothered. “We met at college,” she answered. “We were in the same class. First year.”

  “He was an urban planner too?”

  She nodded. “He was funny. Kind. Talented. It was…” Different to this. “So easy. We were just happy.”

  It had been sweet. He’d been caring. They’d had plans to go into business together and forge a partnership across all areas of their lives. She’d loved the idea. It had beckoned, secure and safe. She’d wanted that so much.

  “He was your first serious boyfriend?”

  She nodded. “My only.”

  Xander’s eyes widened. “And now this?”

  She nodded again. “This.” She’d dived headfirst into a hot and heavy ‘arrangement’ with the most testosterone-laden man she’d ever encountered. The most outrageously sensual. The most playful. Probably not the smartest thing to have done but she was committed now.

  “Did you play the fantasy game with him?” His question was sharpened with a rough edge.

  She flushed and looked away. “I’m… not.” Discussing this. She couldn’t.

  “You didn’t.” He inhaled deep.

  “Xander, please.” She squirmed with embarrassment, sliding right under the sheet.

  He was silent for a while, then sighed. “Sorry. That was rude of me.”

  “
No.” She shook her head, pushing back the sheet so she could look at him again. She hated the way he’d retreated—his expression now blank. “It’s okay.”

  It was a fair enough question, she was just too inhibited to answer properly. It should be okay to tell Xander anything. He’d told her often enough.

  As she lay looking at his strong features, she felt the slipping of a barrier within herself. She could tell him. He didn’t judge, wouldn’t. He was utterly accepting. Finding someone like that was rare. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Anything.”

  Was it that simple? Could she tell him anything and he just listen and not judge? Her burden had become too heavy. Xander was so strong, she had the incredible urge to offload to him.

  “The accident was my fault. I caused it.”

  He immediately rolled to his side to face her, his eyes serious, concerned, sympathetic. “What happened?”

  She breathed in. “I’ve never told anyone.”

  He didn’t touch her. Didn’t try to console her. He didn’t move. Just kept looking at her with that strong, steady gaze. “You can tell me.”

  “I know.” She did know that now.

  He still didn’t move. Didn’t smile. But she sensed the slightest softening.

  “We’d been out,” she started, her voice hideously wobbly. “It was a really big night but—”

  “You fought?”

  “No,” she whispered. It had been so much worse than that. “We’d gotten engaged that night. I was a little drunk.”

  “Was he?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “He was really solid like that. He’d never drink and drive.”

  “It was just the two of you?”

  “Yes.” She gripped the sheet over her icy body. “We’d gone out for dinner. I’d finished the champagne myself. We were celebrating. We danced.”

  “You were happy.”

  “So happy. And silly.”

  He waited a long moment. “What did you do?”

  “It was quite a drive back to my parent’s house. They live a bit out of town.”

  She rolled to her stomach and stared at the pillow between them. She couldn’t meet his eyes anymore. “I wanted to have some fun. I wanted to do something for him.” She bent her head. “I turned the music up loud. It was one of those sexy dance anthems. I did a strip. Distracted him. I didn’t even realize we were on the bridge. He was laughing,” she said. “He was looking at me and laughing. And I was laughing back at him.” She’d never tried such a thing before. “I was trying to act sexy but I was self-conscious at the same time.”

  “You didn’t usually vamp for him?”

  She shook her head. “I was young and shy and not that experienced…”

  “But you wanted to.”

  She nodded her head. “And he loved me. I wanted to play up for him. Wanted to give him something he’d never forget. You know, ‘how to blow his mind’—like something you read in those damn magazines.” She closed her eyes—bringing the darkness back—but she forced herself to keep speaking, recounting the horror. “Next thing I know the horn is blaring and the car is sinking and it was so dark. There wasn’t any traffic behind us. No one saw. I was frantic. I unclipped my belt. I was a strong swimmer, Xander. Always been a strong swimmer…”

  “But your leg?” he prompted.

  “Got crunched in the smash. Broke in three places.”

  “But that didn’t stop you swimming down to save him.”

  She turned her head to look at him. “I’ve never told anyone. I figured my clothing could easily be explained from the swim out. But…”

  He waited, his eyes compassionate.

  “He was still fully dressed. Jeans.” She frowned. Denim dragged a person down in water. “I’d been going to undo his fly. Was going to get him to pull over and I’d…” She stopped. “I should have owned up. I’m so guilty.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “It was,” she sobbed.

  “No.” Xander leaned towards her, his words tumbling. “He could have been distracted by anything—a bug on the windshield, a tyre could’ve blown, a truck coming the other way with lights on full beam… so many things.”

  “But it was me.” She sat up. “For crying out loud, I was all but naked and about to go down on him. It was me.”

  “It was still an accident,” he said firmly. “And you tried to rescue him. No one could have tried harder.”

  She paused, tears streaming down her face. “I dived and dived. I tried so many times. And I finally got him freed—got him to the surface. But he was already dead. He was killed on impact.” There’d been no water in his lungs. He’d died before he’d had the chance to drown. She’d tried so hard to save him and it had been too late.

  “You hadn’t known that.”

  “I thought he was knocked unconscious. I couldn’t leave him to drown.”

  “No,” he said. “Hell Chelsea, I am so sorry.”

  Not as sorry as her. “I’ve never told anyone. Not my parents. Not his.” Her whisper was so small she could hardly hear herself. “They supported me so much and I feel so guilty.”

  He looked at her somberly. “You want their forgiveness?”

  She nodded. She did. She wanted it all to be okay. She wanted to turn back the clock. Nearly two years on and she still couldn’t move past it.

  He leaned closer. “You need to forgive yourself first.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “You loved him. You never wanted to hurt him,” he said quietly. “Maybe you have to trust in fate. Maybe it was just his time. If not distracted then, then hit by a bus the next day.”

  “I shouldn’t have done it.”

  “It was a mistake. Wrong timing. He could have told you to stop.”

  She shook her head.

  Xander put a hand over her fist, holding her firmly. “You have to let this go or you’re never going to be able to move on. You have to accept that what happened, happened.” He looked at her. “Is this why you don’t like to initiate sex anymore?”

  Shocked, she gaped at him.

  “You need me to take control,” he continued firmly. “You need to please me.”

  She yelped in distress then clamped her mouth shut.

  “You’re a generous person, and I see what you’re doing.” Xander kept talking. “If you make it good for me, make it all about what I want, then that makes it okay for you to enjoy it too. Because you’re putting my wants first. Is that how this is working for you?”

  “Xander.” She was appalled and horrified that his words hurt her so deeply. “I’ve just told you something so… so personal and all you can do is bring it back to sex? To this thing—”

  “This thing with me is about sex for you.”

  Oh but it wasn’t only about sex. Not now. It was about trust and honesty and understanding and wanting and needing so much more. She shot out of bed, grabbing some clothes to pull on.

  “Chelsea.” He too left the bed. “Don’t get mad with me for speaking the truth.”

  His truth. She looked away from him. “I’m not mad.”

  “Don’t lie either. The truth is you’re afraid to act up, to play, to open up. You want to, but you’re inhibited—like you think you can’t or shouldn’t.”

  “I just opened up,” she snapped back angrily. “And you’re hardly the poster-boy for deep and meaningful sharing.”

  “Fair point, but I share what I can.” He thrust his tee over his head. “You can share more.”

  “I just told you my most horrible thing ever. What more do you want?” She stared at him, furious that this was only about sex with him. “You want to know what I really want?” She spat. “You want to know my deepest, darkest fantasy?” Irate, she wanted to test him. “Me with another man. Two men.” Take that, you bastard.

  His eyes narrowed like he knew she was goading him. But he inhaled deep. “I can almost cope with the idea of another man watching you,” he answered
infuriatingly evenly—like they were discussing the weather. “But any man touches you, I’d have to hurt him. I wouldn’t like that. Nor would he. Nor would you.”

  “You’d go Hulk on me?” she laughed bitterly. As if Xander-effing-Lawson would get jealous? He so didn’t care enough. “I don’t think you’re capable of really hurting someone.” Not physically. “You’re a lifeguard,” she taunted.

  “Actually, I get angry about all kinds of things. But it can’t become rage. It can’t become uncontrollable.”

  Control. There it was again. She gazed at him, barely noticing his breathing was as uneven as hers or that her blood was rushing in her ears. “Control is important to you.”

  “As it is to you.” He sent her a hard look.

  “Okay yes, I liked you taking control.” He’d released her from her self-restraint, let her enjoy sensual freedom without guilt. But she wanted more now. She’d opened up so much, but he had only shared a very little. It wasn’t fair.

  “Because you don’t think you deserve to have a good time anymore,” he said.

  “Stop trying to analyze me.”

  “Well someone needs to. You’re caught in your inability to communicate. Your family—his family—would be appalled if they knew you were sabotaging your life because of misplaced guilt. It’s time to talk. Time to give it up. You don’t talk honestly to anyone. You can’t even ask your mom to call you an hour later.”

  “Well I’m not going to talk to you. I thought superheroes didn’t speak. They only act.” She picked up his jeans and hurled them at him.

  “That’s right, try to shut down the conversation.” He caught and pulled them on in record time. “I take it I’m not welcome to stay.”

  “You said it was your preference not to stay the night,” she snapped coolly.

  For a moment something like admiration crossed his face, before that bland expression settled again. Permanently. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me what happened.”

  Yeah and look where that had gotten her—hurt. She’d told him her ‘anything’ like he’d said he wanted—and then he’d twisted it. It was awful, awful, awful because she had the horrible feeling he was right. And this had to end before her heart broke over something that could never be.