Chapter 14 #2
That had to be it. It was the truth, after all. Still, my palms felt damp as I strode into his office. When I passed the couch, my heart began to gallop in my chest. That was where it had happened. The scene of the crime.
I’d circumvent whatever it was he had to say.
I’d stop him before he took the blame for something that was my fault.
Because that’s what he was going to do, I knew.
But it was my fault. I’d been the one who took a simple bandaging of my body as something more.
I’d been the one who’d responded to him blowing at the wound as something so much more.
I moved to the middle of the room, where I figured I’d be safe to talk with enough distance between us.
“Seamus—”
“Chelsea—”
We spoke at the same time, and I swallowed.
I should have said you first, but I lost my words.
God, he was handsome. So completely perfect, with his serious eyes, his thick dark hair, the cut of his jaw…
how had I never noticed him in all those years, and now, in the space of a few weeks, he’d consumed every waking moment of my thoughts?
Seamus opened his mouth to speak—his gorgeous, perfect mouth. But his eyes were on me. He knew I was staring at his mouth. Did he know what I was thinking? That I… Shit. That I wanted to kiss him.
Heat rocketed through me. Maybe this was okay. Maybe it wouldn’t be like it was with other guys. Maybe…
“Chelsea I think—”
“I wanted it,” I blurted.
It was his eyes on me. They’d stripped my ability to say anything but the raw truth.
Seamus stiffened. It was the wrong thing to say, but it was the truth, and I couldn’t lie to Seamus. I knew that now.
Seamus clenched his hands, clenching and unclenching, over and over again.
Then he turned around, toward the door.
My heart sank. When he placed his hand on the door, he seemed to hesitate. But instead of bringing his hand down to the handle, he pressed his palm flat on the door.
I held my breath as softly, with excruciating slowness, Seamus closed it. He bowed his head, his hand braced on the door.
“Chelsea. Nothing happened between us.”
He still didn’t turn around.
“Nothing we can’t dial back.” I could hear the tension in his voice. “But I haven’t been able to keep you out of my goddamned head. About all the ways that could have gone between us.”
It was the most words I think I’d heard him speak all at once like that.
“You wanted it too,” I whispered.
Last chance, Seamus. Last chance to walk away from me.
But he didn’t walk away. He turned around, and when his eyes met mine, my breath left me.
He strode toward me then, each step sending my pulse skyrocketing. I was shaking, my heart was beating so fast.
Seamus brought his hand to my jaw, his thumb to my mouth, brushing the rough pad of it across my bottom lip, just like I’d imagined only a moment ago.
Electricity sparked down my neck from his touch, making me almost shudder.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Chelsea.” Then his mouth landed on mine with an urgency that sent everything scorching inside me.
The intensity of his touch made everything burn into a blurred background, leaving only us, rising up.
I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck, clinging to him before I lost my footing.
His tongue slipped past my lips, and when it met mine, that electricity rocketed through my whole body, making me reel.
But it was like he felt that same shock—his whole body coiled tight against mine and he groaned as if in pain against me.
I arched my back, pressing my breasts into his chest as his forearm across my lower back, bringing me closer to him.
When he broke the kiss, his eyes burned into mine.
I’d do anything he asked right now.
Anything.
But he looked away, as if struggling against himself.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my chest heaving. I released the hold I had around his neck, letting my hands slide down his chest. I needed to back away. “I shouldn’t have—”
But Seamus locked his eyes back on mine. He shook his head, gripping my wrists, pulling my arms back up around his neck again. “Stay there.” It wasn’t a request. It was a command.
Heat slipped low, rushing between my legs.
Then Seamus’s thick forearms slipped under my ass, hoisting me up off the floor. He pressed his lips against mine once more, sending pure, deep, liquid desire rolling through me. He turned us around, slamming my back up against the door. It rattled on its hinges.
“Are you okay?” he managed, and when I nodded, he buried his face in my neck, trailing kisses down my throat and against my collar. “Chelsea… fuck, Chelsea.”
Waves of pleasure rolled through me. I honestly didn’t know if I was okay. Physically, yes. I liked it like this. Loved it like this. I lifted my chin to accommodate him, moaning as he grazed his teeth softly against my shoulder.
A deep sound came out of him, rolling and heavy with need. It was my name, lower now, deeper, as if coming from somewhere he had no control over. He drove his hips into me, rocking me against the door. I felt him hard against me.
Huge against me.
When he looked up, his expression looked almost pained.
I realized my eyes had gone wide. It was just the angle that made him feel that big against me, that was all. But he looked concerned.
“I’m okay,” I whispered.
I squeezed my legs around him to show him. “I’m not scared of you,” I said. I wasn’t. Need flooded into my center. I was already wet.
“You scare the fuck out of me, Chelsea.” He ground into me. “But I want to walk right into the fire.”
Heat surged once more, and I knew if we didn’t have clothes between us that he’d be driving himself into me, right here. It would be hard and fast and dirty, and the thought nearly sent me over the edge.
But it also pulled me back. What was I doing?
The tiniest hook of panic tugged at me. But with each kiss from Seamus, each press of his need against me, it grew.
Suddenly I felt as if I was split right down the middle.
Half of me was wild, gone with need. The other half—that was spinning.
Clinging to a future I’d never reach if I did this right now.
“Seamus,” I said. “Stop. We can’t…”
Seamus stopped, stilling his hips. He bent his head to my shoulder. His taut muscles were hard as steel under my hands. Straining. His back rose up and down, and I could tell he was trying to control his breathing. Then he grasped my hips and lowered me to my feet.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was so thick and rough it barely sounded like him.
Once I was on the floor, he pressed his hands against the wall behind me as if he didn’t trust them anywhere else.
I shook my head. “Don’t say that.”
His face was lowered so I couldn’t see it, but I brought my hands to his jaw.
His stubble was prickly under my palms as I brought his face up.
He pressed the top of his forehead to mine, above my bandage, and as he did, his hands came back to my hips; thumbs slipping just under my shirt, resting on my skin.
He closed his eyes and kneaded his palms against the curve of my hips, as if memorizing them.
“Fuck,” he said, lowering his hands again and opening his eyes. I saw the remorse there, the pain. “I’m—”
But I leaned forward and kissed him again. I wanted to spare him the words. This time, our kiss was long and deep and tender, and when his hands snaked into my hair, his touch was so gentle. His presence—the kiss—was like some indescribably good and benevolent force wrapping itself around me.
But then his nose brushed against my cheek, against the bandage, and suddenly I grew self-conscious. The scar on my face burned.
Outside, Joyce laughed.
I looked down, then slipped out from under him, sliding with my back against the wall next to the door.
I wanted to go back to him, to lose myself to him. But I couldn’t think there.
“I wasn’t supposed to do this,” I said, unsure if I was talking to him or myself. “I don’t want to get tangled up in a guy, especially not…”
He grimaced.
I wanted so badly to go to him, to lift his hanging head, to kiss him and tell him how good he was. But I was so confused; and besides, Jude was right outside.
“You’re right,” Seamus said. “It shouldn’t have happened.”
“How about we just… pretend it didn’t, okay? This was my fault. I shouldn’t have said what I said.” That I wanted you.
“I can’t pretend that, Chelsea.” His eyes met mine, and I saw his gaze go over my bandage. I cringed at it.
I wasn’t prepared for the hurt that ran through me seeing him do that.
He regretted what had just happened because he thought I was fragile. Out of my mind. Vulnerable. That I’d slipped right back into my old patterns. “You weren’t just anyone,” I said. “In case you’re wondering.”
“Does it make a difference?”
I honestly didn’t know.
But I saw the quick flash of hurt in his eyes now. Maybe it didn’t make any difference. Maybe, no matter who it was, I acted recklessly to make up for the fact that I hid everything meaningful and important in a locked vault inside.
“Chelsea, I made a promise to Eli that I’d look out for you. But… I think we should just stay away from each other, okay?”
The words hit me like a blow. He was right. Of course he was. But it wasn’t what I wanted.
“Sure, Seamus,” I whispered. “I should go.”
“Wait,” he said, as I started to turn. He walked over to his desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a paper bag, the kind with no handle. He handed it to me. “Here.” It was big, the size of a coffee-table book, but lighter.
I shouldn’t take anything from him. It felt wrong. For a moment I just stared at it, my hands at my sides, trying to think of what to say to refuse it.
But he lifted my hand and curled my fingers over the bag. “Please. I’ll just throw it out if you don’t take it.”
So I did; I clutched it against my chest. “Goodbye, Seamus.” Then I slipped out the door, leaving Seamus Reilly behind me.