Hell, no. He just couldn’t believe her response. Tom had spent so long being nice to her, the naughty part of him was buried deep.
Kiss her, you fool.
So he kissed her.
Sweetly, deliberately, and determined to draw out the maximum amount of pleasure for her. Lips brushing lips while his fingertips caressed her face. Then he gently risked deepening the kiss, because how could he not?
When she sighed and stepped in close, winding her arms around his neck, he suddenly didn’t feel like being quite so sweet anymore.
His hands slid along her sides to her hips and he tugged her against him, pressing the evidence of his need against her.
She stiffened, but didn’t move away.
‘This is what you do to me, Chels. You drive me mad.’ He whispered it because he was too scared to say it louder than that.
Her eyes, now impossibly wide, studied him with interest. ‘Show me.’
His breath hitched and he pressed his forehead to hers, taking a moment to collect his thoughts.
It was too much like a dream. But if this wasn’t real, then maybe he could do exactly what he’d dreamed of for so long.
He drew her in for another kiss, his hands wandering and doing not-so-nice things like kneading her backside and brushing her breast with the back of his hand through her T-shirt.
She moaned softly, and Tom took it as an invitation to explore further. His hands dived underneath her top, stroking the bare skin of her back. Then he swiftly undid her bra and pushed her top over her head. She was panting by the time he extracted the bra from her arms.
‘You’re beautiful, Chels. Inside and out.’
Then he lowered his mouth to her breast, and she arched back, shuddering as his tongue did some of the wonderfully naughty things he’d dreamed of. Chelsea gripped his shoulders, holding on tight.
When his lips had worked their way down to the area around her belly button, his mind had formed a plan. A naughty plan.
He lowered himself to the edge of the bed and hooked his thumbs through the belt hooks on her jeans, tugging her towards him. When she stopped directly in front of him, he gave her a crooked smile. His face was at the same level as her stomach.
‘Chelsea?’
‘Yes?’ She looked down at him, sounding breathless.
‘Do you want things to go further?’
She nodded, apparently finding it difficult to speak.
‘I’m not going to make love to you,’ he told her, and she blinked. ‘You heard me. I’m still a nice guy when it comes down to it, and we’ve only been pretend dating for a week. But we can do other things, because I’m not as nice as you think I am. How does that sound?’
She bit her lip, which was rosy and swollen from their kisses. ‘It sounds perfect.’
Tom felt himself grow harder and the not-so-nice part of him ached to be inside her, but he fought it.
‘Good. Now let’s get you naked.’
Tom ran a thumb across the waistband of her jeans, then slowly undid the zip, dragging out the moment. It was like he was unwrapping a gift he’d been waiting for all year, and he wanted to savour the expectation.
Chelsea was less patient. She shoved her jeans down her legs and kicked them off, closely followed by her panties so she was standing completely naked in front of him.
Holy shit.
It was going to take every ounce of self-control he had not to throw her onto the bed and bury himself deep inside her. To distract himself, he put his hands on her hips and guided her closer. Then his mouth found her sweet spot and he got to work.
Chelsea was pretty sure she was going to die before they made it home.
Either that or she wouldn’t be able to walk again.
Tom’s kisses had been sweet and surprisingly sensual. Although she was discovering that his tongue was anything but sweet. It was downright dirty and keen to please, which was an amazing combination.
Now that he was concentrating his efforts between her legs, it was all she could do to stay upright. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, but he didn’t seem bothered or even to notice.
He was too busy with his tongue.
Chelsea’s head lolled backwards so she was staring absently at the ceiling. Was it wrong that she was this relaxed standing butt-naked in front of him while he made love to her with his mouth?
This was Tom. Housemate Tom.
‘Oh, Tom,’ she moaned, as his tongue did something particularly magical to her.
Whoever this Tom was, she wanted him. If he hadn’t explicitly told her that they weren’t going to make love, she would have collapsed onto the bed already and spread her legs for him. The fact she couldn’t have him right now drove her even more wild. It had her grinding against his mouth and bucking against him.
But it wasn’t enough.
‘Tom,’ she moaned again, but this time her voice held a note of displeasure.
Tom eased back and looked at her.
‘It’s not enough,’ she told him. ‘I want you.’
There was that grin again. That naughty grin, and it only served to intensify her need for him.
‘Can’t have me,’ he said simply. ‘I told you. I’m not that kind of guy. This is all about you today.’
Chelsea let out something between a sigh and a sob, wanting to stamp her foot in frustration like one of her preschoolers. ‘What if I told you I want you to fuck me, Tom? Right now. Right here. What would you say to that?’
Tom’s green eyes darkened to that mossy green she was starting to like so much. ‘I’d say that’s a pretty tempting idea, but you’ll have to put that idea out of your mind for now.’
‘Why?’ she whined.
His eyes grew darker still. ‘So I can do this.’
He tugged her back towards him and this time when his mouth found her, he slipped a finger between her legs, too.
She inhaled a sharp breath, not because it had hurt, but because it had felt so good. Damn it. If he wasn’t going to make love to her, this was the next best thing.
She grabbed his wrist and slowly pushed him deeper, sighing in satisfaction.
‘More, please,’ she whispered.
She thought she saw Tom smile, but his tongue was busy again, and now so was his hand. As his tongue circled her, his hand set a steady pace that had Chelsea rocking her hips restlessly. Her legs began to feel weak, and she braced herself against him using his shoulders to hold her up.
Soon she barely registered that she was standing. She was just a mass of quivering nerve endings, tingling and firing over and over again at his mercy.
When she whimpered, Tom increased his pace and Chelsea arched backwards. It was so intense it was almost unbearable.
‘Give me . . . time to . . . breathe. It’s too much, Tom. Much too much.’
‘No.’
His firm answer sent a thrill through her, but it was still too much.
‘But I can’t—’
‘You can, Chelsea. I’m not stopping.’
She released a keening sound, like an animal might, and squirmed on top of him. She felt helpless, but it was the best sort of helpless.
The pressure built until her entire body was alight. Fingers. Toes. Legs. Arms. And burning the brightest was the aching need deep in her belly. When she squirmed yet again and tried to pull away, Tom held her fast and slipped a second finger inside her, maintaining his pace.
It didn’t take long for the heat to completely engulf her, and she rocked, bucked, shuddered, and then collapsed forwards onto him. Tom caught her and cradled her fall, pulling her naked body against his fully clothed one so that she was lying on top of him on the bed.
She was unable to move, so she laid there tingling and shellshocked at how she’d just come apart so wonderfully and completely in front of him.
‘Alright?’ Tom whispered.
‘Mmpf,’ she replied into his shoulder.
His chest rose up and down with his laughter. ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’
She shifted her head to rest her cheek against him so that she could speak properly. ‘What about you?’
‘What about me?’
‘Um, don’t you want to . . . relieve yourself?’
He stroked her hair. ‘Maybe later.’
She frowned. ‘I don’t believe you.’ She discovered that she still had the use of her left hand and used it to locate Tom’s groin area. ‘You’re as hard as a rock.’
‘Careful, Chels,’ he said between gritted teeth. ‘You’re playing with fire.’
She shifted back to look at him, and there was that thrill again. ‘But don’t you want—’
He caught her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. ‘I got what I wanted. Now why don’t you fix yourself up? There’s still time to grab breakfast before we check out.’
She gaped at him. Shit. She’d totally forgotten that they had to be out of here in . . . She glanced at the bedside clock, then scrambled to get up.
‘Crap! We don’t have long.’
‘Blame me. It’s all my fault.’ His grin was completely self-satisfied.
She shot him an incredulous look. Blame Tom? After that mind-blowing experience? He must be kidding.
Then a naughty but nice thought occurred to her. ‘I can punish you later.’
With that, she gave him a wink, and raced to the bathroom to tidy up.
Chapter Twenty
By the time Tom steered the car onto the freeway heading back to Newcastle, he couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach any longer.
What had he done?
You’ve done Chelsea, that’s what you’ve done, you idiot.
‘Tom? Is everything OK? You seem quiet.’
‘Just tired.’ It wasn’t a lie. It was actually quite accurate.
‘Tom?’ she said again. ‘If you’re worried about what happened before, don’t be.’
Tom gripped the steering wheel tighter. Although he was sure the statement was meant to reassure him, it didn’t have the desired effect. Did she mean “Don’t worry, it was no big deal, and it was entirely forgettable” or “Don’t worry, that was amazing, and I’ll never look at you the same again”?
Speaking of which, Tom wasn’t sure how he felt. Confused? Stressed? Concerned that he’d crossed an invisible line and there would be no coming back from it?
Chelsea reached over and rested her hand on his thigh like it was the most natural thing in the world. Obviously his groin didn’t think so, because it became pretty excited about the idea.
He attempted to shift in the driver’s seat without making it too obvious he was experiencing any discomfort. ‘I’m not worried. We do need a plan moving forward, though.’
Chelsea smiled. ‘A plan? What for?’
Tom was glad he had the road to concentrate on, because he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see Chelsea’s expression. Amused? Confused?
‘I mean we need to figure out what this is,’ he told her.
There. He’d said it. He knew it was a complete mood killer, but what choice did they have? They lived together. She was his best mate’s little sister.
‘We do?’ Chelsea replied. ‘I thought we’d just spend more time together and see where it takes us.’
‘Spend more time together how? As friends? Or something else?’
‘Um, clearly what we did this morning wasn’t something friends do . . .’
They fell silent. She was right. Friends didn’t do what he’d done to Chelsea. What he still wanted to do to Chelsea. He shifted in his seat again.
Shit. He needed to focus.
‘So I guess friends with benefits is off the table?’ Chelsea joked.
His sideways look told her all she needed to know about that suggestion.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Just trying to lighten the mood. Look, I understand why you’re concerned. No matter what you say, you’re still a decent guy, and I respect you for that. But I don’t see why we have to define it right now. It’s just going to put pressure on both of us and kill whatever this is between us before it’s even had a chance.’
Whatever this is between us.
‘You want to give this a chance?’ he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral while it felt like a weight was pressing down on his chest.
‘Don’t you?’
She hadn’t answered and they both knew it. She was waiting for him to tell her what he wanted.
What he wanted?
He wanted more of her. He’d been avoiding the elephant in the apartment for more than a year now. He craved Chelsea Cartwright with a hunger that scared him, and the last thing he wanted to do was frighten her away.
‘I don’t want to ruin things between us,’ Tom told her quite honestly, ‘but I also don’t want to go back to the way things were.’
Chelsea fingered a hole in the leg of her jeans and picked at it. ‘Me either. I also don’t want to ruin things.’
Tom released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. ‘Then we’re agreed. We definitely don’t ruin things between us.’
‘Exactly. But we can try being naughty together again, too.’
He risked a quick glance in her direction. She was blushing. He’d made her blush. It was wrong of him, but he felt proud.
‘I’d like that,’ he said, then dropped his hand from the steering wheel to squeeze hers.
‘Me too,’ she said softly.
The tension in car eased and he kept hold of her hand.
So they had an agreement of sorts. Don’t go back to the way things were and explore whatever this was between them.
Did that make them boyfriend and girlfriend?
Stop it, he told himself. He needed to slow down and just see what eventuated. He forced himself to focus on the road and remained silent while Chelsea selected a playlist for them to listen to.
Ten minutes later, Chelsea was breathing deeply in the seat beside him, her eyes closed.
Well, she wasn’t freaked out. That was the main thing.
For the first time that day, it occurred to Tom that perhaps he was the one who was scared. He was scared of his feelings for her. Scared of falling for her.
Scared of losing her.
He kneaded the steering wheel as he drove. Chelsea was the first woman since Gemma who he’d looked twice at. Who he’d considered what it would be like to be with.
Until now, a relationship with Chelsea had been pure fantasy. A pleasant daydream he could distract himself with when the painful memories threatened to torment him.
But now a relationship with Chelsea could be a reality. He should have been happy, and the part that craved her was.
But the other part? That part of him was terrified.
While they’d agreed to just approach things casually moving forward, by the middle of the following week Chelsea was painfully aware of the growing awkwardness between them.
There was no rule book for this sort of thing. No instructions that defined whether she should be checking in with Tom about his dinner plans, or if she should be updating him about her plans in general. Was she supposed to do that?
Chelsea didn’t have a clue. Most of her previous boyfriends were so casual that the thought had never occurred to her to update them on her plans. Unless they were organising to meet and spend time together, Chelsea’s time was her own.
Except Chelsea and Tom lived together. It was both convenient and difficult. They had easy access to each other if they so desired—and Chelsea did desire him. Only nothing had happened between them since the weekend because Tom had been working late. Not to mention the dilemma of them having their own bedrooms. Should she stay with him or should he be with her? And then what? Did they sleep in the other person’s bed afterwards?
‘Ugh, you’re overthinking,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Just see what happens.’
‘What happened?’ Kendra asked as she escaped into the break room.
‘Nothing happened,’ Chelsea told her quickly, and that was just the problem.<
br />
It felt like a lifetime since the weekend, and she wasn’t sure what to do. Should she make the next move? Maybe he was waiting for her to initiate things.
Kendra rifled through the kitchen cupboard in search of a snack and produced a packet of biscuits triumphantly. ‘You don’t know how much I need one of these right now. Serious sugar low. Barb’s been more difficult than usual today.’
Chelsea had noticed that too. ‘I wonder if I should ask her if everything is alright.’
Kendra gaped at her like she was mad. ‘And suggest to our fearless leader that she’s anything but capable? I think not, but be my guest. It’s your job on the line, not mine.’
Chelsea rolled her eyes. ‘I’ve never known her to fire anybody. To threaten it, yes. But she’s never actually gone through with it.’
‘You’re the one she’s least likely to fire, anyway.’
‘What do you mean?’
Kendra shrugged. ‘She loves you, Chels. But then we all do.’
Chelsea tried not to blush. ‘You’ll give me a big head. And Barb does not love me. She’s learned to tolerate me.’
‘She tolerates you better than most, then.’ Kendra checked her watch. ‘Anyway, I’m going to sneak out the back to the play area where I can eat these cookies and drink my tea in peace and quiet. I figure we’ve still got at least ten more minutes of story time.’
‘Good idea. Enjoy it.’
Chelsea’s phone buzzed as Kendra slipped out the back door with the stealth of a ninja intent on not being caught. They all loved the kids, but they’d do anything for a few minutes of quiet at least once a day.
Chelsea picked up her phone and her heart rate sped up. It was Tom.
Hey. I ended up working the early shift. Want to catch up for dinner? Your turn to cook?
Oh, God, yes. To the catching up part, which hopefully was code for dinner plus dessert of the more adult variety. The dinner part she could take or leave if she was being honest. But, wait. That wasn’t fair. Tom had gone to the effort of making her a really nice dinner the week before, even if she had almost died eating it. She’d have to make something nice for him in return.
Mr. Nice Guy (Pierce Brothers Book 1) Page 13