Whirlpool (6 page)

Braden shook his head. “Are you trained as a relationship counselor too?”

A sudden burst of laughter escaped Jamie as he cleaned up his bowl and tidied the counter. He spoke over his shoulder. “Years of hanging out at remote digs often means there’s nothing to do in your spare time but psychoanalyze each other. It can be damn entertaining at times.”

Chelsea peeked around the edge of the stage, searching the dimly lit seating area for Jamie. The music pounded through her whole body, the pulsing beat making the need driving her more and more difficult to control. Braden had one last chance, then she was going to forget him. She’d called in every favor possible to arrange the night, and if it didn’t work, she’d just have to accept he really didn’t want her.

The girl dancing on the stage wore a skimpy tasseled cowboy outfit and Chelsea analyzed her dance moves as she waited her turn. Decent routine, maybe a little too much shimmy in the hips, but the catcalls and hollering from the floor demonstrated the guys watching didn’t mind. Jamie’s blond hair finally caught her eye. Perfect. He’d managed to nab one of the tables close enough to the stage she’d be able to pay him a little extra attention.

Chelsea tucked back into the shadows and closed her eyes for a moment, centering herself and slowing the rapid beat of her pulse. In just minutes she’d be the one out there in the spotlight, letting her body tell the story as she performed.

Fine, it wasn’t dancing on Broadway, but it made her happy, brought in a few bucks and the guys loved it.

Ms. Cowboy finished up and gathered her money from the stage. She slipped past Chelsea breathlessly. “Break a leg, girl. They’re hot tonight.”

The tone of the music changed and Chelsea rocked her body in time with the opening beats. She took a deep breath and let the rhythm settle over her. Head lowered she paced slowly out onto the stage and the collective groan from the masculine throats was oh-so-wonderful to hear.

She didn’t do a bump and grind like some of the girls. She could—she knew how to pole dance with the best of them—but she’d choreographed this routine as a tease into the world of the merfolk. The shimmering blue body paint she wore flashed under the special lights, creating the illusion of the same glow she would see while making love. It turned her on, imagining her and Braden, lights flicking around them. She approached the edge of the stage and smiled into the crowd, her gaze fixing on Jamie, and suddenly her smile was real. There was something special about the man, more than the fact they were becoming friends.

His expression right now was priceless. She’d told him she was a dancer, brought him into the club then left him alone while she went to get ready. Surely the previous girls’ performances would have clued him in, but the shock on his face made her want to giggle. The heat that built as he looked her over from head to toe gave a pleasant buzz to her whole body. She waggled her fingers at him suggestively and watched with delight as the men on either side of him elbowed and joshed him for receiving special attention.

The beat picked up in her music and she had to concentrate. Returning to the middle of the stage, she set in motion the sensual routine she hoped would pull them all into a whirlpool of passion with her.

She danced, every part of her body engaged in the storytelling. Bent low to the ground she pretended to swim across the floor, perching up onto a rock and preening her hair back off her shoulder. The long ringlets of her extensions hung to her hips, teasing the bare skin above her buttocks with every swing. Teasing like the brush of a hand, like Jamie’s fingers had stroked her skin the other day, and she unconsciously sought his eyes.

When the dance took her back to the edge of the stage, she slipped down, lowering herself to the floor. The bouncers stiffened, but let her continue as she moved toward Jamie, her hips moving from side to side with an increasing tempo.

His jaw hung open and she slid a hand down his cheek before twirling before him. Her hands landed on his thighs as she leaned over, undulating her torso from side to side. The pull between them made her drop the choreographed plans and dive in over her head. She pressed his legs together and straddled him. He stared at her face, his eyes blazing as she rocked her hips lower, the thin strip of fabric covering her pussy rubbing his dress pants, knocking against the rock-hard erection straining the front of his trousers.

“Chelsea…” He choked out the words. She shimmied again, this time sitting on his thighs and raising a leg in the air. The back of her calf rested on his collarbone, her body heat melding with his, and he swore softly.

The emotion she saw in his eyes hit her hard. The blue paint she wore now hid her own reaction, the real shimmer of arousal rising from her body as she reacted to the need pouring off him. She extracted herself from the tangle she’d pulled them into and grabbed him by the collar.

“Chels, no more,” he whispered.

She hesitated for a second then spun away, leaping onto the stage. Oh God, what had she done? Passion flared hard through her, need making her pulse jump and her core ache for a lover. The remainder of her song went far too quickly, the spotlights in her eyes blinding her to any of the faces in the crowd.

The music faded and she escaped, the whistles and clapping shaking the rafters.

“Aren’t you going around to pick up your money?” one of the other dancers asked.

Chelsea shook her head. “I’ll let Kasey grab it for me this time. I need to head out.”

The girl winked. “I see you’ve got a new boyfriend. He’s cute.”

Shit
. Chelsea stripped off her costume as fast as she could. All her plans were royally screwed. She had timed it so she’d have at least thirty minutes before all hell broke loose. Now she wished for longer—time to go find Jamie and apologize. To ask him to understand she hadn’t meant to torment him—hell, torment herself. The incredible reaction between them had come on so hard and strong… She wrapped her arms around herself for a second. She fought the hard ache in her core that made her want to race into the crowd and grab Jamie. A glance in the mirror reminded her the body paint was still there, but she had no time to take it off and still make it home before Braden. She snatched up a wrap and fled out the door, racing across the parking lot and jumping into her car as quickly as she could.

Only then did she breathe out a sigh of relief, relaxing back onto the seat and letting go of the nervous tension that had claimed her. She’d planned the evening as a final-ditch attempt to get Braden’s attention, but she hadn’t expected to experience such a strong response to Jamie.

The door beside her jerked open. Chelsea’s heart leapt into her throat and she swung a fist at the intruder.

Braden caught it with his mitt of a hand. “None of that.”

“Holy shit, what do you think—?”

“Don’t move,” he ordered. He closed her door and came around to the passenger side, yanked the door open and folded himself into the seat. “You’ve got the drive home to figure out how you’re going explain yourself.”

“What are you doing in my car? You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

He reached across to turn on the ignition. The motor roared to life and she twisted to examine his face. He shook his head then leaned back in his seat, avoiding her eyes. “Drive. We’ll talk when we get home.”

Bastard
. Chelsea jerked the car into gear and burned rubber, peeling out of the parking lot. What the hell was he going to do, slap a fine on her? She glanced at him. He wasn’t wearing his uniform.

Ah, shit…there was part of the problem. He was supposed to be on duty tonight. She’d left word for him to drop in at the Grotto, but figured he’d have gone in uniform. It should have taken until the end of his shift to be able to track her down if he’d been pissed off. Only if he wasn’t on duty…

Hell
. None of this was working out. Jamie was probably annoyed beyond belief with her, and Braden was going to reject her again. She slowed and drove more carefully. Not like she needed to get into any more trouble tonight than she already was. She pulled into the driveway of the house and parked, slipping out and heading inside without another word spoken.

Fine. She’d leave as wide a space between her and Braden as possible. They might be stuck housesitting together but this was the last time she was going to try to get him to see her as a woman.

She kicked off her shoes and turned to hide in her room.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Braden locked the door behind them then blocked her path. His expressionless face taunted her more than if he’d been angry or sad. Obviously he didn’t give a damn and it was time to move on.

“I’m taking a shower and going to bed. Good night.”

He grabbed her by the arm and held her in place. “No, you’re not.”

Chelsea froze for a second then simultaneously stomped at his instep and twisted her wrist from his grasp. He simply released her, dodged the kick and grabbed her other elbow as well, effectively pinning her in place before him.

“Let me go,” she demanded.

“We’re going to talk. Don’t run away, don’t start throwing things.”

Chelsea tossed her head back and glared. “I don’t throw things, and I don’t run. You’re the one that runs away.”

He nodded slowly and as his fingers released her she jerked back a step.

“What were you doing tonight, Chelsea?” The dark tone in his voice made a tiny flame of hope start to rise. “You were looking for trouble before, but tonight?”

He stroked a hand down her arm and she found it hard to swallow.

“You know that I dance. I’ve asked you a million times to come and watch, and you never have. So what’s different about tonight? The fact I had someone in the audience who appreciated me?”

“They all appreciate you, baby. Every one of those men there tonight would have loved to be the one going home with you.”

“Except you,” she said softly.

The confusion in his eyes was clear. “Tonight wasn’t the first time I’ve watched you. I’ve wrestled with myself every damn time you dance and I’m usually there in the back, wanting to murder the men admiring you. Wanting to race up on that stage and pull you off and wrap you up so no one can see your beautiful body.”

He’d watched before? “
Why have you never said anything?”

He rubbed his hands up the sides of her arms again, smoothing his palms over her shoulders. “I had no right.”

She waited. Hoping he’d say something more. Do something more. He just kept touching her arms, stroking her hair. It was all so surreal and confusing.

“Stop it.” She shrugged away from him, stepping closer to the fireplace and the long French doors to the patio. The lights of the harbor were visible off in the distance where the pier curved away from the land. Faint pinpricks of light that echoed the faint hope glowing in her heart. She turned to face him.

“So you watched. You wanted to cover me up. Fine, thanks for sharing. Does it make any difference at all? Because from what you’ve said to me tonight, I don’t see anything changing, and if that’s the case, then I’m having that shower and hitting the sack. Alone. Again. Like I have for the past year.”

“Chelsea, I’ve wanted to make love with you—”

“Bullshit.” Tears were threatening, and soon there would be no stopping them. She was so bloody frustrated it was a good thing they weren’t in the kitchen or she’d be tempted to throw a knife or two. “Don’t give me any more of your crap.”

She dashed the tears from her eyes, annoyed that she’d let him bring her to this place. She was a strong woman, independent. She didn’t need his approval or his love. She turned her back on him and wrapped her arms around herself to hold in the anger.

“Baby—”

“Go away. I don’t want to discuss this anymore.”

“We’re not done,” he growled out. “You have a crazy way of holding a conversation.”

Arrogant bastard
. She spun on her heel to confront him. “This isn’t a conversation. It’s an accusation. You want to bring it back to a discussion? Fine. Tell me what you’re planning on doing about this.”

One move ripped off her jacket. His gaze dropped to her chest, to the bikini cups shaped like giant shells barely covering her breasts. She slipped a hand behind her and pulled the string, ripping the fabric from her body and tossing it at him. One more move stripped away her thong and she stood naked before him.

Braden’s eyes grew dark but his unfathomable expression never changed. “Fuck, Chelsea, what do you want me to do? Turn my back on everything I believe is right and just have sex with you?”

“Who the hell made you my moral adviser? Is it your job to go around seeing that all the merfolk are screwing only approved partners? I’ve heard about every one of your exploits, and you have the balls to say having sex with me would be wrong? Don’t be such a fucking hypocrite. Face it, Braden, either you want me or you don’t.”

She held out her arms and pivoted on the spot, letting her arms rise above her head until she was back facing him, breasts thrust forward, legs parted. He stared at her, still expressionless and she gave up. Her heart was breaking inside as she lowered her arms.

“Sorry you didn’t like what you see enough to make a play for it. Good night, Braden.”

It was only three steps. Only three steps would get her past him and she could run to her room, hide away and let the tears fall.

He didn’t let her take more than one. His arms wrapped around her, clutching her against his solid body as his mouth stole her very breath away.

Enough. He’d waited and resisted and fought it for long enough, and now there was no turning back. She slipped into his arms and against him like she was meant to be there, every succulent inch of her bare skin open to his touch, to his possession. He clasped her close and lifted until her mouth reached his lips, her warm smooth torso sliding up his chest. Their tongues fought, teeth knocking together. She responded eagerly, her fingers curled around his head as she held their lips together and allowed him to ravish her mouth.

The heat between them was incredible, his skin burning from within like she’d lit a fire, and he growled with displeasure at the fabric separating them. Still connected, still clutching each other, he ripped his shirt apart. The instant contact between her unbound breasts and his chest made him hiss. Scalding hot, the bountiful mounds pressed into him, and he tore his mouth away from hers to hike her torso higher and latch his mouth to one turgid peak. He nipped and sucked hard, her nipple hitting the roof of his mouth and Chelsea cried out with a breathless gasp. He eased back slightly, afraid that he’d been too rough in his mindless haze.