Breathe for Me

chapter Fourteen





She decided Xander’s absence was good. Training, right? It’d help keep things in perspective. Stop her getting too involved. Except she kept thinking about him. She struggled to get to sleep, her body wanted him while her mind whirred in circles. She wanted to talk to him—to joke and laugh.

When she did finally fall asleep the nightmares came. She suffered through the same one as always but a variant sometimes alternated. In the darkness she was searching, searching, desperately trying to find him—a faceless, tall, broad shadow.

She had to find him. To save him. To love him.

But she’d lost him. She was alone.

Three long, restless nights went by and she didn’t get nearly enough sleep in any of them. This was way worse than those few days after the first time they’d slept together when she was worried about seeing him again.

This was lonely. She faked her way through her phonecalls with her mom. She distracted herself by talking to Luisa about the pizza project. And she buried herself—almost literally—in her work. On Saturday afternoon as she prepped the plants for the pop-up walls, there was a knock on her door.

She checked the peephole. It was both a dream come true and her worst nightmare. Why did he have to turn up looking so damn sexy when she was head to toe covered in dirt?

Just as he was about to knock again, she opened the door.

“How was your trip?” she asked, stepping into the doorway and trying to hide her smeared hands behind her back.

“Successful,” he grinned. “I enjoyed it.”

Had he? She swallowed.

“What’s going on in your head?” He angled his head, his gaze narrowing on her. One eye brow flickered. “Are you wondering what else I got up to?”

She hadn’t wanted to think about that at all. But in those small hours, when the night was darkest and she was in a cold sweat, then yeah—she’d been thinking all kinds of nasty.

“We probably should have established the rest of the boundaries, right?” She swallowed again. “For when you’re away.” She was determined to be mature. “How about ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’?”

Shock, followed by anger flashed on his face. “No. No one else. Not for me. Not for you.”

Relief flooded her system so violently her legs weakened. “Okay.” She leaned against the doorjamb, still blocking him from entering.

“Not okay.” He eyeballed her some more. “While I’m with you there is no other guy.” He drew in a sharp breath. “Was there?”

“No.” Of course not. The thought was sickening.

“No one. Understand?”

She nodded. He really didn’t need to emphasize it. She wasn’t the one most likely, whereas the total stud that he was? He’d have been fending them off in the hotel lobby.

His expression lightened fractionally. “You want to know how I spent my evenings?”

She nodded.

His voice dropped. “I spent every one alone in my room dreaming up new scenarios for you.”

She touched her tongue to her lips.

“Holding your breath again?” His chuckle warmed her cheek. “Baby, you’ve got to learn to breathe. In fact, you’ve got to learn to…”

She waited for him to finish the sentence. But he didn’t.

“I tapped out so many text messages to you,” he said instead. “Didn’t send one.”

“Why not?”

He didn’t answer. He seemed to be waiting for something.

Chelsea watched him. Waiting. Aching for him to touch her. Surely he knew it—couldn’t he sense how her limbs were trembling? Couldn’t he smell her arousal in the small space between them?

“You want a coffee or something?” she asked nervously as the silence grew unbearable. “Have you eaten?”

He growled, finally pulling her close. Willingly she went into his arms as he melded her to his body.

“I’m staying the whole night,” he decreed, already putting a hand down her skirt even as he walked her backward into her apartment and kicked her door shut. “I’m a fugitive on the run with no home to go to and a driving need for physical intimacy. You’re giving me the comfort of your home and body. For the whole night.”

She didn’t argue. Didn’t deny.

“I should warn you I’m going to need a lot,” he said.

“I should warn you I’m very dirty.” She held up her hands.

He chuckled. “I don’t mind.”

As it turned out, Xander liked dirty.



An hour later Chelsea returned to the living room after a quick shower. Xander sat on the floor wearing only boxers as he carefully separated and transplanted her small herbs into the containers they’d be in for the display.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, looking guiltily at the dirt already wedged under his fingertips.

He looked over the top of the pot he was holding. “I know I don’t have to, I want to.” He went back to the task.

Chelsea sat opposite and resumed transplanting a few million more of her own. To her surprise, Xander kept pace, his hands working gently and quickly.

“You’re pretty efficient,” she said.

“I used to grow vegetables for my mother,” he said, carefully pressing a small plant into position.

“Those red peppers, huh?”

“You got it,” he winked.

So they’d grown their own? Had he had a totally at-home cook-grow-create kind of mom? Nice.

“My mother gives me horrendous gardening advice,” she said to keep the line of conversation open. “Endlessly.”

He laughed. “I know how it feels.” He glanced over at the long troughs she had ready for the transplanting.

“I bet your mom doesn’t call you as often as mine calls me.” Chelsea said wryly.

“Probably not. But maybe I get more intense sessions when she does,” he chuckled.

“Do you have siblings?” Chelsea asked, unable to stifle her curiosity.

He shook his head.

“Does your mother have a new partner?”

He shook his head again. “How did you smuggle all this stuff in? I don’t think they want market gardens established in the apartments.”

Chelsea smiled. Yeah, he didn’t want to talk family. “Brad helped. So did Terry.”

“Ah, of course,” he drawled. “You have your bunch of heroes.”

“They’re not my heroes,” she denied with a frown.

He looked at her again. “They’d carry you off in a heartbeat.”

She felt her cheeks heat. “That’s not what I want.”

“No. No being rescued for you, huh?” His lips twisted wryly.

She shook her head.

“There’s nothing wrong with accepting a little help though, is there,” he sent her a sly look.

“I guess,” she answered softly, knowing he was making a point. And given her ‘help’ was all but naked, there was lots very, very right.

That night, she slept the best she had in months, held in his strong arms. She figured she was worn out from the backbreaking work and the intense sex. She had no nightmares—no dreams at all. Wasn’t remotely conscious of anything until she felt the gentle touches. The kisses. The suction on her nipples, the wicked tongue sliding south to her *. A warm way to be woken—to make her open and easy. She smiled and opened her eyes. The moment she did, he slid to the hilt inside.

“Good morning,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to her throat.

She arched up, trying to let him plunge further to satisfy the searing hunger so deep inside. He chuckled as she clutched his butt to stop him slipping too far out. He established a rolling, maddening rhythm. She moaned. She could so get used to this.

“Always ready for me. Always willing.”

She wasn’t sure if it was a comment, or an order, but satisfaction at his pleasure smoldered in her cells. His intensity heated her own.

He pulled back and circled his hips teasingly before thrusting harder. “Come.”

That was an order. And one she couldn’t ignore.

He watched her. She knew he watched her. And it was only when she tipped over the edge that she felt him gather his strength and channel it into her in long driving movements.

An hour later he roused her again with a shake to her shoulder. “I’m going for a dip on the roof.”

“You swim everyday?” she asked sleepily.

“Absolutely.” He shot her a look. “I like the feel of the sun on my back.” He paused, like he was waiting for her to reciprocate and say something more.

So she did. But she was wide awake now and it wasn’t about swimming. “And you run every day too?” Even Sundays?

The smallest sigh escaped him. “Yes.” He kissed her. “I’ll be back in an hour. Be ready for me.”

“Shall I even bother to get dressed?”

“Yes.” He laughed. “We’re going out.”

He’d gone before she’d had a chance to ask more.

She quickly showered and dressed, stupidly excited about the idea. This was going past their established boundaries again, but he’d been away and they’d missed a few nights, so this was just catch-up, right? He was probably taking her to a different venue—some outdoor sex perhaps, or a wild hotel in which to indulge some other outrageous fantasy?

She clenched her thighs together to stop her excitement mounting so soon and rolled her eyes at her physical reaction to mere thoughts. But it wasn’t just the sex she was anticipating so fiercely. It was just the fact she’d be spending more time with him.

“Where are we going?” she asked when he knocked on her door again.

“It’s a surprise.” He didn’t walk into her apartment but waited for her to walk out before checking her door. Then he took her hand and led her to the elevator and hit the button for the exit level.

Her nerves twanged sharply when he stepped out on the pavement and scanned the road. Less than ten seconds later a car service pulled in. Her discomfort must have been written on her face because he leaned close and kissed her. Another of those too-soothing, comforting kisses.

She pulled back and tried to tease, to keep them on the straight and sex-only. “You are so one track.”

“You love me for it.”

She snorted and shook her head as she got into the car—glad the action hid her eyes from his. Not love. Definitely not love. But she was beginning to like an awful lot.

“So where are we going?” she asked again when he slid into the back seat beside her and nodded for the driver to go.

“It’s a surprise.”

He wasn’t going to tell her. So she let him lead the conversation—telling her about the project he’d been working on in Houston. She told him about some of the other work her Institute had been doing.

Finally the car pulled over and she looked out the window. An aquarium? Seriously?

“What are we doing here?” she asked as she got out of the car.

“Just hanging out.”

He looked innocent enough but there was something in his tone. Something about it made her suspicious.

“Is it open?”

“Not to the public. They’re still fixing things after that last storm but they’re reopening any day.”

“So how can you get in?”

“I worked on their security system.”

“I thought you specialized in bars and clubs.”

“Restaurants, hotels, lots of entertainment venues, yes. But it’s fun having diversity in my clients.”

“I guess this is diverse.” She looked at the big sign with the fish logo. “So this is a business meeting?”

He shook his head. “No, I thought you might like have a private peek before they reopen next week.”

“Okay.” She couldn’t help the feeling there was more to this than he was saying.

“They take really good care of the animals,” he said, opening the door for her to walk in. “Do a lot of good research as well as operate an education and entertainment thing.” He waved at a woman working behind the glass reception. The woman waved back but Xander didn’t stop to chat. He led Chelsea straight into one room off the side, clearly familiar with the layout. It was darker. Chelsea saw the enormous fish tanks. That was a lot of water.

“I’ve always liked the seahorses,” he said. “And the jellyfish. With the neon uplight they look like something from outer space. Beautiful and weird and mesmerizing.”

She stayed at the edge of the room and only briefly glanced at the fish. “Yeah they are.” They were graceful, but this room was too dark.

“There’s a really big shark pool.” He walked back out to the corridor, stopping at the end to face her. “We go can underneath the tank, through a tunnel. It’s perfectly safe.”

His effort to reassure didn’t help. He thought she was scared. And she was. It might be a tunnel, but they’d still be going beneath the water.

She swallowed. “I um…”

He took hold of her hand before she could finish her sentence. His grip tightened almost instantly and she saw him take a double glance at her. It was a sweltering summer’s day, yet her hand was ice-cold and damp.

“You okay?” he asked outright.

She said nothing.

“You know,” he said quietly, keeping a tight hold of her hand. “There’s an exhibit outside that you might like more.”

“There is?” She leaped at the chance to avoid the tunnel thing.

“Yeah.” His smile appeared. “Come on.”

They retraced their steps along the corridor and then he opened another door.

The bright light outside made her blink after the semi-darkness of the tanks inside, but she still registered what he was leading her to. The cutest aqua-theater—painted bright blue with a small stand of seats. It wasn’t huge, but it was beautiful.

“They have dolphins?” Her heart melted.

He grinned and released her hand only to put his arm around her waist and cuddle her closer. “Only for a short time. Then they go to another facility. I think the main attraction here is sea lions.”

His affection warmed her, but she directed her unstoppably huge smile at the dolphin. It was smaller than she’d thought dolphins were. And the creature had that lovely perma-grin expression on her face.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah.” Xander agreed. “You want to touch her?” He walked up to the edge of the pool. “She’ll swim right up to say hi if you come closer.”

The pool had wide steps on one side—clearly designed for trainers, or visitors to enter.

“And we can wade into the pool with her if you want,” he said. “To your ankles, knees. You don’t have to go deep if you don’t want.”

Chelsea froze, looking away from the beautiful sea creature to the tall man standing watching her expectantly.

As a kid she would have leapt at the chance. Even now her heart tugged. It was a beautiful, beautiful day and that animal was so gorgeous.

Both of them were.

“You don’t have to swim,” he spoke again. “Just a couple of paces in. You could throw her a fish. One of the trainers will help you.”

Her happiness in the moment of seeing the dolphin was dashed. Xander wanted her to get in the water. That’s what this whole trip was about—it was so blindingly obvious. She stepped back from the pool theater, walking around the side of the building so she was out of sight of the lurking attendant in his wetsuit and broad smile.

“Chelsea?” Xander followed her.

He was trying to be nice. Helpful. Even though she hadn’t spoken of it, he knew about her fear. He was trying to help her with it. But that wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want to get in that water. She didn’t want this to develop into any ‘thing’ between them. Defense rose fiercely within her.

All she’d wanted from him was that heat, right? She wanted away from here and alone with him. She wanted his body and the way he moved it. She wanted the satisfaction of the pleasure he gave her, and the pleasure she got in seeing him sated.

She didn’t say anything. Just reached out a hand and got a fist full of his tee. She lifted up onto her tiptoes and kissed him. Pressing her lips to his, her tongue teasing, sliding inside his mouth. A tremor shook her at the contact—not enough. She wanted more. She wanted everything he had to give her. Everything physical—his strength, his heat, his touch. She took him on. Daring him, challenging him. Trying to incite him so it would be impossible for him to refuse her.

Her hands clutched him tighter, closer as she strove to drive them both. Inside she focused on this one thing—so he’d believe it. And so she would too.

That all she wanted was this.



Xander’s hands shook as he tried to grip her hips—tried to halt the undulating, devastating, movements that were hurtling him towards insanity. Her breasts were pressed to his chest, her hips plastered to his, rocking on his erection in a rhythm that was so good it was painful. He ripped his mouth from hers with a violent wrench of his head. He heard the breathless gasp she gave as he released her.

She stumbled back, putting a hand out to the wall beside her for support. Xander needed more than a wall, he needed concrete pillars with iron cuffs embedded—to restrain him from taking everything here and now.

He’d never experienced a kiss like that before. She’d blown out his brains with how hot that’d got in a flash. Her lush, hungry mouth caressed, her tongue sent to torment a mere mortal like him. But it was the expression in her eyes that killed him. He could almost hear the words forming on her lips. Everything he’d wanted—her pushing, playing, taking.

Siren.

His heart thundered, his skin stretched over a body too tense to be bound. He didn’t want to just kiss her again. He wanted to back her up to the nearest tank and shift her knickers to the side and thrust deep in one movement.

No need for foreplay. He was there already. So was she. The way she’d rubbed against him said it all—he could feel the damp heat through his shorts. Heaven help him, he wanted her. Now. Except he did want the foreplay—he wanted all the play. He wanted her to wield that body, let loose all those delicious wanton thoughts so clearly consuming her. But he couldn’t.

Because she was hurting. And he wanted to help her with that more.

She sighed, turning her head away as he took another step back.

Damn. Was he really refusing what she was offering? Yes. Because she was only offering this as a distraction. Because she was pushed into a corner and could see no other way out. Because she didn’t want to go in the water and this was her way of avoiding it.

Her first moment of truly inciting something between them had been out of necessity, not real desire.

Bitterness chaffed like rock salt rubbed into sensitive skin. Disappointed and frustrated, his patience evaporated—because she’d still never told him. For all their intimacy, she still hadn’t uttered a word about what had happened to make her so water phobic. More than anything he wanted her to talk to him.

“Chelsea,” he said her name more harshly than he meant to. “Do you want to go in the water or not?”

The flush receded from her cheeks. The flashing sparkle in her eye dimmed, leaving them deeper. Damn mysteries.

She walked back around the corner to the theater where the dolphin was playing. She looked at the gorgeous animal in that clear, blue water for a long time.

Xander looked at her. Silent. Waiting. A hopeless chill sinking into his bones.

“This was a really nice idea.” Her voice was a thin, tear-clogged thread as she turned and walked towards the exit. “But I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Damn.