She hit reply.
Sounds good. Let me know what time you’ll be home.
She stared at the message a moment longer. Then figured to hell with it and typed two more brave and courageous letters, which accurately summed up their change in circumstances:
xx
Chapter Twenty-One
Tom arrived home to the smell of steak cooking and the welcome sight of Chelsea in the kitchen. He’d been on a high most of the afternoon, even despite a particularly depressing call-out late in the day. Tom considered himself a practical guy, so it made no sense that the inclusion of two tiny x’s in a message could put a spring in his step, but they had.
He closed the front door and watched Chelsea unnoticed from the entrance. She wore a cute black knee-length skirt that flared out from the waist and a fitted light blue top that hugged her curves and cleavage. She’d possibly worn the skirt to work, then changed her top when she got home because her employer had a purple shirt with the childcare’s name emblazoned on it.
Chelsea moved around the kitchen confidently. She generally didn’t consider herself a great cook, but like everything else, when she thought no one else was watching, she always got on with the job at hand capably.
‘Oh, hi. You’re home.’ Chelsea looked up from the griddle pan she was using to cook the meat. ‘I hope steak is OK. I figured I had the least chance of messing it up.’
Tom walked to the edge of the kitchen and hovered near the counter. It had been like this all week—the feeling of being perpetually being drawn to her, but not wanting to come across too strong or put a foot wrong.
‘It smells great,’ he said. ‘Do I have time to shower quickly and change out of my work clothes?’
‘Yep. Probably about ten minutes.’
Tom nodded. ‘Sure. I won’t be long.’
He set off for his bedroom, already berating himself for his typical Mr. Nice Guy behaviour. He should have just walked into the kitchen, caught her by the waist, and planted a kiss on the nape of her neck. Instead, he was hurrying to his room because that seemed like the safest thing to do.
So much for naughty.
Tom pushed the negative thoughts aside while he stripped out of his work uniform and hopped in the shower. He let the hot water sluice through the stress he was feeling. The tension related to work was usually unavoidable, but there was also tension about the woman in the kitchen.
By the time he was dressed, he felt slightly more at ease and more like himself. He returned to the kitchen and found a beer bottle waiting for him on the bench.
‘You’re a saviour,’ he told her, and wasted no time opening it.
She watched him from her position near the cooktop while he took a much-needed swig of beer.
‘How was your day, honey?’ She winked at him, but the question was serious.
Tom placed the beer down. ‘Not good. Not bad.’
‘Which means nothing traumatic,’ she said intuitively.
‘You’re right, but what makes you say that?’
Chelsea returned her focus to the meat. ‘I don’t know. You don’t like talking about work, but when you do, it’s usually the less serious cases or the rewarding cases that you mention. If something’s been particularly bad, I won’t hear about it.’
Tom picked up his beer again, reflecting on Chelsea’s insightful observations.
‘Am I right?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ he admitted.
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Chelsea continued, ‘I get why. Sharing the darker moments of your job outside of work probably isn’t considered politically correct. Nadia says a few things now and then, like when a patient has died, but she doesn’t go on about it either. I assume it comes with the territory.’
‘It must,’ Tom agreed. ‘I guess I’ve learned to compartmentalise.’
Chelsea started serving up the meals, placing the freshly cooked meat onto a bed of lettuce she’d prepared earlier.
‘My guess is that you learned to do that when your mum was sick.’ Tom must have frowned without realising it, because Chelsea rushed to add, ‘But then, what do I know?’
Tom stood and came around to collect his plate and take it over to the table. ‘You know more than you let on, as it turns out.’
She poked her tongue out at him. ‘I hide it well.’
Tom smiled, but it didn’t touch his eyes because he was remembering the past. ‘We all dealt with it differently. My mum’s illness, I mean. I helped care for her and put on a happy, brave face for her. Luke kept the family together and organised us all. Seth was at that age where it was easier to play the idiot and rebel. And Noah became even more introverted. So yeah, I guess out of all of us, I was the one who kept smiling through it all.’
They sat down at the table and Tom surveyed the meal Chelsea had cooked for him.
‘This looks amazing, Chels. And I’m not just saying that. I could get used to this.’
Realising he’d said too much, he sliced off a piece of meat, skewered it with his fork, and popped it in his mouth.
Chelsea watched him, her blue eyes amused. ‘That’s if you’re still alive at the end of the meal. My cooking might be more lethal than yours.’
Tom coughed with a mouthful of food, but fortunately managed not to choke. Once he swallowed, he spoke. ‘Is this some sort of test, or a form of retribution? Should I be worried that you’ve booby trapped my food?’
‘I’m not that kind of girl. Life’s too short to hold grudges. Unlike Nadia. Did you have any idea about her and Luke, by the way? She still refuses to talk about it.’
Tom shook his head. ‘My big bro tends to keep things to himself. I didn’t even know they knew each other until the other night.’
‘Well, well. It seems like one of the Pierce brothers has managed to get under her skin, and that’s a rare achievement for any man.’ Her blue eyes flashed mischievously at him from across the table. ‘It must be something about the Pierce boys.’
Tom swallowed another mouthful and noted that the food didn’t go down quite so easily this time on account of her playful expression.
He managed to drag his gaze back to his food, and they ate in silence for a while before Chelsea cleared her throat quietly.
‘Have you been avoiding me, Tom?’
He looked up. The mischievous look had disappeared and had been replaced with curiosity and possibility a tiny bit of hurt.
He swore under his breath. Then he said, ‘No. Yes. Maybe a bit. You know, I don’t know, exactly. I just didn’t want to put a foot wrong, that was all.’
‘I thought we said we weren’t going to ruin things between us.’
‘That’s what I’ve been trying to avoid, but clearly I’m not doing a very good job. I’m sorry.’
‘That’s OK. I know it’s because you don’t want to hurt me. But can I ask another question?’
He nodded.
‘Do you want to sleep with me?’
Tom set down his knife and fork. His heart continued to beat steadily in his chest, but for some reason he felt light-headed.
That’s probably because all the blood has left your head, you idiot.
‘Tom?’
‘You know I do,’ he managed.
‘Then why haven’t you?’
Good question. Damn good question.
‘I didn’t want—’
‘To ruin things between us, I get it.’
Tom sighed. ‘It’s not just that. Once we do, we can’t take it back.’
‘Tom Pierce, are you worried I’ll be lacking in the bedroom?’ she accused. The twinkle in her eye was back, and he loved her for it.
‘No, maybe I’ll be the one who’s lacking.’
She frowned. ‘Good God. This from a man who dressed up in a costume to make a girlfriend happy. I doubt it.’ Then she gave him a shy look. ‘So will you? Sleep with me?’
‘Tonight?’
Of course that’s what she’d meant, but Tom was proving slow on the uptake this evening and he wasn’t su
re it was merely because he was tired.
She cleared her throat softly. ‘I was kind of hoping.’
Say yes, you fool.
Instead, something else came out. ‘Not yet. Not . . . just not yet. But that doesn’t mean we can’t do other things.’
What was wrong with him? Why was he avoiding sleeping with Chelsea when he knew without a doubt that he wanted to?
Chelsea studied him openly, her expression thoughtful. ‘I thought you said nice guys don’t play hard to get.’ Before he could answer, she shook her head. ‘Forget I said that. You’re right. We both need to be ready, and I’m rushing things. God knows that hasn’t worked for me in the past, and I don’t want to make the same mistake again. In the meantime, we can entertain ourselves in other ways. Tonight I think it should be your turn.’
‘My turn? For what?’
Chelsea grinned—a wicked grin that sent a jolt of heat straight to his groin.
‘For me to have my way with you. Stand up and get naked.’
Tom blinked at her, hardly believing what he was hearing. Surely he’d come home after work, gone to bed for a nap and this was a dream.
‘You heard me, Mr. Nice Guy. Dessert can wait.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chelsea waited with bated breath for Tom to do what she’d requested.
It was entirely possible that she’d gone a step too far, but she’d meant what she said last week about liking the idea of bossing a guy around in the bedroom.
Chelsea watched as Tom stood slowly. Not taking his eyes off her, he slipped his T-shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor.
‘Everything?’ he asked.
Oh boy. Ask and you shall receive. ‘Everything,’ she replied.
She waited like a kid outside a candy store—wide-eyed and eager.
His eyes still on hers, he unzipped his jeans and dropped them to the floor. Underneath, he wore a comfortable pair of grey boxer shorts that hugged him in all the right places.
He cocked an eyebrow at her, and Chelsea’s heart raced faster.
‘Take them off,’ she heard herself say confidently, while inside she felt like squealing and giggling like a teenager.
Tom hooked a thumb around the waistband and then dragged the shorts down his legs. When he straightened, he wasn’t the only thing standing to attention.
‘I can’t really deny my feelings for you now,’ he joked.
‘No. No, you can’t,’ Chelsea replied, feeling breathless.
He was beautiful. Masculine, but beautiful. She already knew from their afternoon at the beach that he was lean and toned with just the right amount of muscle. It turned out he was just the right amount of everything.
She walked around the table to stand in front of him, his green eyes following her.
‘Kiss me,’ she instructed. Though she liked to make demands, she also wanted to feel wanted.
It must have been the sign he’d been waiting for. Tom reached over and pulled her to him, sealing her mouth with his lips in a kiss that left nothing to the imagination about his desire for her. This time he wasn’t sweet or gentle. He was demanding and strong, taking unapologetic pleasure in kissing her.
Chelsea sighed and at some point realised she’d been kissed senseless, and had completely forgotten what she’d been planning to do. Fortunately, her hands had a mind of their own. She used her palms to map the firm contours of his muscular back, then grabbed his tight arse.
He moaned into her mouth, and tingles danced along her spine. His hands came to her hips, drawing their bodies together so she felt his hard need press against her. She pushed her hands between them and gripped the length of him.
He cut off the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers, inhaling a shuddering breath.
‘Do you like that?’ she asked, both wanting to know and to tease him.
He groaned softly. ‘What do you think?’
‘I’ll take that as a yes. Now let’s see about this.’
She grabbed a chair from behind her and used it to sit in front of him, not letting go of him while she did so. Then she took him in her mouth, using her tongue to taste him and pleasure him with long, slow strokes.
Tom’s hands gripped her shoulders and Chelsea grinned to herself. Tom might not be ready to sleep with her yet, but this would more than do for now. By the time she was done, she planned to do everything in her power to leave him begging for more.
‘Have you ever been involved with a guy who doesn’t want to sleep with you?’ Chelsea asked Nadia the following night while sharing Thai takeaway at Nadia’s house.
Nadia had just finished a shift at the hospital and couldn’t be bothered cooking, and Chelsea was in the same boat because Tom was working until midnight. Not that cooking for herself had ever been a problem before now.
‘Is that a trick question?’ Nadia replied. She used her chopsticks to scoop a second helping of noodles onto her plate. ‘If a guy is involved with me, he wants to sleep with me.’
Chelsea smiled to herself and tried rewording the question. ‘I mean, he wants to sleep with you, but he just hasn’t yet.’
‘Are we talking some sort of delayed gratification thing? And who are we talking about?’
Chelsea waved a hand in the air vaguely. She certainly wasn’t going to tell Nadia about the developments with Tom during the past week or so. Especially when they were still in the “wait and see how things turn out” territory.
‘Oh, someone you don’t know, don’t worry,’ Chelsea said. ‘This person was just a bit concerned, and I didn’t really know what to tell her.’
‘I’d tell her to sleep with someone else who wants to sleep with her.’
Chelsea snorted into her glass of wine. So maybe Nadia wasn’t the best person to be asking, but she was Chelsea’s closest confidant in Newcastle.
‘That’s just the thing. They both want to sleep with each other, and they’ve done other things, if you know what I mean.’
‘Uh oh. The guy isn’t religious and saving himself for marriage, is he?’
‘Not that we’re aware of,’ Chelsea said, when she knew that was definitely not the case.
‘I always recommend trying before you buy.’ Nadia gave up attempting to pick up a piece of carrot with her chopsticks and used her hands instead. ‘Not that I ever buy. I prefer to try and move on, if you get me.’
‘Got you. But you’re special.’
‘That I am.’ She popped the carrot in her mouth. ‘Hmm. So they’ve done other things, but he won’t go the distance with her. Interesting.’
‘That’s what I thought.’
Nadia chewed thoughtfully. ‘It could definitely be a delayed gratification thing, if he’s into that. If that’s the case, I’d tell your friend to enjoy the build-up. Who knows if the main course will be as good as the entrée?’
‘From what she’s told me, I’m not sure that’s it,’ Chelsea said. ‘What else do you think it could be?’
‘It could be performance anxiety. Some guys suffer from it.’
Chelsea had considered that, but secretly doubted it was the case. Tom spoke confidently about sex and his past relationships. He didn’t strike her as the sort of guy who let anxiety get the better of him in the bedroom, judging by what had happened between them so far.
‘Or it could be emotional,’ Nadia added.
‘Emotional?’
‘Yeah. A guy who has been hurt in the past could be holding part of himself back so he doesn’t get hurt again.’
Chelsea stopped chewing and reached for her glass of wine, taking a sip while she processed Nadia’s theory.
Nadia went on, ‘Some men are distant, and it can be through no fault of their own. I’ve found the distant ones fall into two categories: they’re only out for a one-night stand with no strings attached, or they try to love again, but can’t.’
Chelsea pushed her plate away. Nadia’s theory made sense, but it didn’t necessarily describe Tom. Tom wasn’t distant. Tom was warm, fr
iendly and giving. And he definitely wasn’t into one-night stands.
Was it possible Tom wasn’t ready to fall in love? Ever since she’d lived with him, he hadn’t been in a relationship, but that could simply be because he’d moved to a different city and he was busy with work.
Chelsea remembered the woman they’d bumped into at the university campus—Vanessa. Tom certainly hadn’t been keen to talk about his ex-fiancée, but then who would if you’d been caught by surprise like that? He’d hardly been expecting to see Vanessa that day.
Chelsea told herself she was being silly. She and Tom weren’t falling in love, and she didn’t even want him to. That was far more serious than their agreement to just see how things went.
But she still couldn’t help asking the question that was on her mind. Chelsea turned to Nadia. ‘Um, far be it from me to question your wise counsel, but what do you know about men who want to fall in love but are unable to? You don’t fall in love with men.’
‘You’re right, I don’t. But that doesn’t mean men don’t fall in love with me. Or in this case, they want to, but can’t.’ She shrugged and picked up the bottle of red wine to pour another glass. ‘It happens.’
Only to Nadia, Chelsea suspected, but she didn’t say it.
‘Surely if they didn’t want to fall in love, they wouldn’t let themselves get involved in the first place?’ Chelsea pointed out.
‘You’d think so. But that’s not how it works. The heart is willing, but the mind and body take over. Think about it. We humans have a really powerful fight and flight instinct. If you’ve been hurt badly before, you internalise it. Then next time when you find yourself in a similar situation, as much as you might want to get close to someone else again, you fight it.’
Chelsea tilted her head to study Nadia. ‘You’re not talking about yourself, are you?’
‘Hardly.’ Nadia shot her a wicked grin. ‘I don’t think I even have a heart. If I have, I haven’t found it yet.’
Chelsea laughed. ‘You’re scary.’
Nadia didn’t disagree. ‘So, who’s the guy? I might know him.’
Chelsea busied herself serving more noodles. ‘I doubt it. He’s too nice to hang around with someone like you.’
Mr. Nice Guy (Pierce Brothers Book 1) Page 14