Rock Star Romance: Dan (Contemporary New Adult Rockstar Bad Boy Romance) (Hard Rock Star Series Book 4) (73 page)

****

“We’re here.” Chelsea
grunted softly as Johan’s voice called her out of a doze. She had drifted off
to sleep shortly after Johan had given her the half-dose of Vicodin during
their rest break at a restaurant on their way to what Johan was calling her new
life.

“How is it possible,”
Chelsea had asked then, realizing that they had been doing an improbable amount
of driving over the past week—including her twenty-four hour harried flight.
“How is it possible that we’ve driven this much without being halfway across
the country?” Johan had chuckled.

“Well, for most of the
time we’ve been together, we’ve been traveling in interesting shapes around the
state, avoiding your home town,” he had explained. “Of course, I knew when you
went out on your own you’d probably pick a direction and keep going, so I went
after you that way. Fortunately I picked the right direction.”

Her new life would be
in the next state; Johan had explained that they were several hours away, but
that everything would be ready for them when they arrived. Chelsea opened her
eyes, yawning as she came out of her doze. Johan had parked in the driveway of
a respectable-looking house, on an anonymous street. “Wow, this is an upgrade,”
Chelsea said, staring at the front of the home for a long moment. It was
two-story, with butter-yellow walls and clean white trim, the door painted a
deep red. The yard was well maintained, with trimmed grass and a low, landscaped
garden.

“Let me go in first,”
Johan suggested. “I’ll make sure there’s no one hiding out inside, and come
help you up and into the place.” Chelsea saw the three steps leading from the
walkway to the front door and nodded. Much as she would have liked to bristle
at Johan’s authoritative tone, she was slightly woozy from the pain pills and
knew that she wouldn’t be an asset if someone had found their way inside.

Johan locked the car
behind him and strode to the front door, and Chelsea watched him as he located
the key to the door—somehow—and let himself in. She sat back, glancing around
the neighborhood. It was a place for someone like her former boss, the project
manager; not the kind of place she would have seen herself living in alone, not
with her salary.
Of course, right now you have no salary and you won’t be
living in it alone,
Chelsea though wryly. She felt her eyes stinging
slightly as it once more dawned on her how completely and utterly her life had
changed in a matter of mere days.

By the time Johan came
back, nodding slightly as he approached the car to indicate that the house was
clear, Chelsea had managed to regain her composure, dashing away the few tears
she had allowed herself to shed. Johan unlocked the car and walked around to
the passenger side to help her out, pulling her up from the seat with almost
the same strength he had possessed from the first time she’d met him.

The house she had been
given—or at least, loaned—to live in was as beautiful on the inside as its
exterior had promised; fully furnished, with a slightly plastic smell of
brand-new rugs and upholstery, it looked—on the surface—as if the people who
owned it had been living there for a year. Art prints dotted the walls, the
beds—both the master bed on the ground floor and, Johan informed her, the two
guest bedrooms upstairs—were made, there were towels, and the kitchen was fully
stocked. “It really is just…like slipping into another life,” Chelsea said with
a mixture of awe and consternation, as Johan settled her on the couch.

“Witness
protection—privately funded, in this case,” he grinned slightly. “Much nicer
than what you’d get from the government, I can promise you.” Chelsea shrugged.
The luxury of their surroundings—solidly upper middle class—compared to the
apartment she had left behind, and combined with the prestigious hotels and
fancy cars they had had at their disposal, had begun to worry her once more.
Without the full dosage of Vicodin in her system to make worrying about
anything seem completely useless, more and more of their circumstances seemed
unsettling.

“I think it’s time you
tell me what the hell is going on,” Chelsea said as Johan returned from the
kitchen, armed with three re-freezable cold packs. He raised an eyebrow,
perching himself on the coffee table to remove her braces and apply the
freezing packets. Chelsea shivered, wincing against the pain that came along
with the intense cold.

“You’re in waiting,”
Johan said with a shrug. “Nice digs, no need to work until probably after the
trial—too much risk involved with routine coming and going—and entertainment.”
He pointed at himself. Chelsea looked around at the living room, at the
staircase leading to the second floor of the house.

“This is insane,” she
said, turning her attention back to Johan as the cold started to gnaw into her
from the ice packs, increasing her irritation and unease. “How the hell does
someone just—this is crazy. This house is too good.” Johan stared at her in
confusion. “This is like—hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of hide-out!
And—and the cars, and the hotels, and the room service… and my hospital bill…”
Chelsea shook her head, her heart beating faster as the incalculable costs
started to stack up in large, blank shapes in her mind.

“You are probably the
only person I’ve ever met who would even question this,” Johan said, his voice
roughening slightly with something like irritation.

“If this is privately
funded, how the hell am I going to pay this back? Am I some kind of—am I in
debt to the mob now or something? Who the hell are you? Who’s funding this?”
Chelsea stood up quickly, and immediately regretted the impulse, pain flaring
through her body as her injured knee and ankle took the pressure of her sudden
stand, and her rib protested the movement of her torso.

Johan pushed her
carefully but inelegantly back down onto the couch, gathering up the ice packs
and half-slapping them back into place. He pulled a spool of ACE bandage out of
his pocket and silently strapped the packs down while Chelsea fumed futilely.
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, finally meeting her gaze. “Since I
can tell you’re going to throw another tantrum if you don’t get your way—” he
began, raising a hand to forestall the protest that started to leave Chelsea’s
lips. “And after driving half the day I don’t really feel like having to haul
you to the hospital for orthopedic surgery when you make your injuries
worse—I’ll tell you what’s going on.”

“Good,” Chelsea said,
shivering as she decided to ignore the ‘tantrum’ part of the comment. “Talk.”

Johan took another
deep breath. “You’re not in debt to the mob. My client is interested in buying
up your company; but of course, your CEO won’t sell. He thinks it’s a
worthwhile investment to keep you alive to testify against the scummy asshole,
and he wants you to be as comfortable as possible. He figures that when your
CEO goes to jail, the cost of the company will plummet, and he’ll make up the
difference in a matter of months.” Chelsea stared at Johan for a long moment,
digesting the information.

“Your client doesn’t
sound all that much better than my CEO,” she said finally. Johan shrugged.

“He’s putting you up
pretty well,” Johan pointed out. “He isn’t a great guy, but he’s decent enough
to want you to testify because it’s the right thing to do, not because you’re
being forced into it.” Johan smiled wryly. “And before you ask, no—I didn’t
have orders to seduce you. You’re just too good-looking to pass up.”

“Unless I’m drugged.”

Johan snorted. “Yes,
unless you’re drugged.” Chelsea pulled her bottom lip between her teeth,
worrying at it for a long moment as she considered.

“What about the other
guy?” she asked. “The business partner and all that?” Johan shrugged again,
standing and moving onto the couch next to her carefully.

“He’s getting put up,
too,” Johan said. “It’s a don’t-ask-don’t-tell kind of situation.” Chelsea
sighed.

“So what happens after
the trial?” Johan reached out and closed his hand around hers.

“You’re free to do as
you want. I could probably persuade him to let you keep the house; give me the
car as a bonus. If you need rehab for your injuries, obviously that’s something
he’ll cover.”

“But—I had a whole
life.” Johan brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her palm delicately.

“So you'll rebuild it,
once we’re over the hump.”

“We?”

Johan grinned. “Oh
you’re not losing me until after the trial,” he said, his bright eyes warming.
“And even then you’ll have to tell me to leave.” Chelsea smiled weakly.

“Well I guess at least
I won’t have to do it all alone,” she said, leaning against him as the stresses
of the week—and especially the acute stress of the last several minutes—weighed
on her. “I want another Vicodin. A whole one. Standing up was really dumb.”

“You have to eat
first,” Johan said firmly. “And then I’ll give you a pill and get you tucked
into bed.”

“You sound like my
mom,” Chelsea complained. Johan brushed his lips against her ear.

“After you wake up, I
will prove to you that I am nothing at all like your mom,” he promised, his
voice low and slightly rough with desire.

****

“Chelsea…wake up,
sleepy-head.” Chelsea turned over in bed, for a moment uncertain when she had
gotten into the warm, soft sheets. She rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her
palms, shifting and stretching—and then, as a flicker of pain crackled through her,
remembered everything: eating an early dinner with Johan, taking a Vicodin,
watching a little TV and dozing off. She had barely awakened when Johan had
carried her into the master bedroom.

“Mm, what time is it?”
Chelsea opened her eyes, blinking quickly as light flooded into them.

“Morning,” Johan said,
slithering under the blankets and sheets next to her.

“I seriously
slept—what? Ten hours?”

“Twelve,” Johan told
her with a little grin. He wrapped his arms around her carefully, avoiding her
bruised rib.

“I thought you were
going to show me about—something, something, you’re not my mom.” Johan chuckled
lowly, his hands beginning to wander over her body slowly.

“That is, in fact, why
I’m here,” Johan said, cupping her breast in his palm. He turned her face
towards his and kissed her on the lips, his tongue darting into her mouth,
exploring and probing. “How’s the knee? And the ankle?” he asked, breaking away
for just a moment. Chelsea shivered as Johan’s caresses teased, lingering at
her breasts one moment and then drifting down to her hips, slipping between her
legs to stroke her lightly.

“Better,” Chelsea said
when her lips were once more free. Johan’s lips trailed from her mouth to her
jaw, dragging along her throat. “How—how are we going to…” Chelsea gasped as
Johan’s fingers slipped and slid along her already-slick labia, rubbing
slightly. She shivered, twisting her hips as Johan’s touch deepened, his
fingers finding her clit unerringly.

“I’ve been giving that
a lot of thought,” Johan said, his voice rough with desire. “Gave me something
to…while away the time you were asleep.” Johan kissed her lightly on the lips,
and slowly, carefully maneuvered himself on top of her, holding himself up as
he withdrew his fingers from her soaking wet vulva. “First, I’m going to make
you come,” Johan murmured, pulling Chelsea’s legs apart gently. “And then…
well, you’ll see.” Johan grinned at her, and then began to trail kisses down
from her lips, along the column of her throat, past her collarbones. Chelsea
shivered as Johan lingered at her breasts, claiming each of her nipples in
turn, licking and sucking each one. Johan’s fingers stroked just between her
labia as he worshipped her breasts with lips and tongue, sending tingling jolts
of pleasure through her body.

Just when Chelsea
thought she couldn’t stand any more teasing, Johan continued downward, kissing
and nibbling along her ribs, past her abdomen. He nuzzled her hip, nipping
sharply at the sensitive skin there, and Chelsea gasped, reaching down to
tangle her fingers in his hair. Johan slithered down between her legs,
spreading her thighs just slightly wider, careful to support her injured knee.
Chelsea moaned out as Johan buried his face against her soaking wet pussy,
sucking and licking hungrily. He pulled her labia into his mouth as he
flickered his tongue up and down along her folds, tasting her thoroughly.

Chelsea’s hips bucked
and twisted as Johan brought his tongue up to her clit, barely swiping against
the bead of nerves before moving down to the well of her pussy once more. She
tugged at Johan’s hair without thinking, grabbed at his shoulder, too wrapped
up in the pleasure of his mouth against her to remember where he was injured or
even try to avoid it. Johan nuzzled against her, focusing his efforts on her
pleasure center, and even though she tried to hold back, to savor the
sensations coursing through her, Chelsea found her self-control slipping every
moment, until she felt the growing knot of tension between her hips unravel,
sending wave after wave of pleasure through her. Johan continued his worship
even as Chelsea pitched and writhed, forgetting all about her own injuries,
lost in the sensations coursing through her nervous system.

Johan began to pull
back as the spasms of pleasure began to abate, lapping up her fluids more
slowly and then retreating, leaving Chelsea shivering in the aftershocks for
just a moment before he slithered on top of her once more. “Are you ready for
more?” Johan asked her, kissing her lightly on the lips. Chelsea struggled to
catch her breath, draping her arms limply around his broad shoulders.

“Not really but keep
going anyway,” she said, smiling breathlessly. Johan chuckled and Chelsea felt
him shifting her body around, moving above her even as he held himself up to
keep from putting pressure on the parts of her body that still ached. She could
feel the heat and hardness of his cock pressing against her, and even though
Chelsea was still hovering in the haze of orgasm, she felt a ripple of renewed
lust.

Johan carefully brought
Chelsea’s injured leg up, resting her calf against his shoulder, and Chelsea
bit her bottom lip, briefly uncertain; but as he thrust into her slowly,
filling her up inch by inch, any worry about hurting herself evaporated. Johan
rocked his hips, pushing deeper and deeper inside of her as Chelsea began to
move with him. Hot and cold flashes of sensation crackled through her, and she
reached out, carefully stretching to touch Johan everywhere. He held her leg on
top of his shoulder, his free hand trailing over her body, stroking and
caressing her, teasing her nipples one moment and then drifting down between
their bodies to rub her clit the next. Chelsea arched and writhed, moaning out
as the friction between them built up.

She could feel Johan’s
cock twitching inside of her, feel the tension in his body as they continued to
move together; Chelsea forgot even the memory of pain as more and more pleasure
coursed through her, bringing her swiftly to the edge of orgasm, grabbing and
clutching at Johan’s body as if for life itself. They both reached orgasm at
almost the same moment—Chelsea felt her self-control give way, and then felt
the first hot, sticky-slick splash of Johan’s come rushing into her as they
moaned together, crying out in pleasure.

Johan carefully fell
to the bed next to her, letting her leg slide off of his shoulder as he draped
his arms around her. Chelsea trembled, turning onto her side to cuddle close to
Johan as they both panted and gasped for breath. “Okay,” she said, smiling
slightly as she looked up into his face. “You’re definitely not my mom.” Johan
laughed out loud, his arms tightening around her.

“I would hope not!”
Johan kissed her eagerly. “How do you feel now?” Chelsea considered the
question.

“Like I want half a
Vicodin, breakfast, and then some more of this.” Johan chuckled.

“I mean about your
life,” he told her, tousling her hair playfully.

“Well it could be all
the pleasure chemicals in my system, but I’m pretty optimistic, on the whole,”
Chelsea said. “You’re not just going to leave me when this is all over, are
you?” Johan shook his head.

“I told you yesterday:
you’re stuck with me until you tell me to leave.” Chelsea smiled.

“What are we going to
do until the trial? I mean, I can’t work…” Johan brought her face up to his and
kissed her hungrily.

“Well, personally my
plan is to keep you fed, keep you from getting hurt again, and regularly fuck
your brains out, as long as you want to fuck me.” He nibbled along the column
of her throat. “I seem to recall you having an issue with me ‘bullying you’
into fucking on my schedule.” Chelsea laughed, and clutched at her bruised rib
as the movement sent a ripple of pain strong enough to cut through the haze of
pleasure and painkillers.

“Okay, okay,” she
said, breathing carefully. “No more complaints about that.” Johan pulled her
closer, nuzzling against her neck.

“Then I think we’ll be
just fine.” Johan kissed her again. “No more tantrums until you’re healed up,
got it?” Chelsea nodded.

“Got it. Now when are
you going to feed me?” Johan guided her hand down along his body, and she
laughed, half-groaning as she realized he was starting to become hard again.
“One more time. Then we eat and get some drugs in me.”

“We have nothing but
time,” Johan murmured, and they began to move together once more.