A View to a Thrill (Masters and Mercenaries Book 7) (7 page)

“Stay still. How am I supposed to fuck you if you don’t let me in? This is called getting into someone’s knickers where I’m from. You want a quick tumble? A little in and out?” His tone had gone hard and she could feel his erection against her hip. God, he was big. Maybe this was a horrible mistake.

His fingers slid over her mound and she couldn’t help but try to move away. It was too intimate, too much, and it didn’t feel anywhere close to good. But she couldn’t get away because he was so heavy on top of her. He pinned her down and now it felt different. She struggled to breathe. He was so big and heavy. He could do anything he wanted to her.

Why had she put herself here? Panic threatened to take over.

“I’m just another cock, right?” The question came out on a hard grind. “You’ve had a hundred and one more won’t matter.”

She nearly screamed as his fingers parted her labia. Tears blurred her eyes.

Simon cursed and rolled off her.

Chelsea could breathe again.

“You’re not even wet. You want me to rape you? Is that what you want? You want me to prove what a bastard I am?” He was on his back, his chest moving up and down with the force of his breaths.

Chelsea practically jumped off the bed. “You are a bastard, Weston. I don’t need empirical evidence. I just know.”

He sat up, running a hand over his head. “Did you even know you’re supposed to be wet, Chelsea? How did you expect to take a cock when you’re not even aroused?”

She understood the process. She’d had a couple of horrifically embarrassing incidents all involving him. “I guess I don’t want you after all.”

“You’re such a little liar.” His head turned her way and she felt pinned again. “How many lovers, Chelsea. The truth this time.”

She didn’t want him to know the truth. What would he think of her? “Fine. Not many. I’m selective.”

He stood up and stalked her way, his body all lean and predatory lines. It took everything she had to hold her ground when what she wanted to do was retreat. “How many? I would like a number. I’ll give you an example. I’ve slept with sixteen women over the years. I started fucking at the tender age of fifteen, but despite what the British tabloids and my brother will tell you, I generally prefer to be in some form of relationship with the women in my bed. I don’t like one-night stands, though I have had a few. If you want to add in the number of women I’ve played with in some way, either oral or hand jobs, the number does swell a bit and I’ll admit to a few nights at Oxford where I’m not sure what I did. I’m disease free and I haven’t had sex in six months. Well, unless you count my right hand. Really it’s been my longest-term lover. Your turn.”

“Five.” That sounded like a good number. Why was he putting her in a corner?

“Names.”

“What?” Her skin heated, embarrassment flooding her system. Why was he doing this to her? Did he want to check them all out for STDs? Somehow she’d thought he’d just take whatever she offered.

“If there were only five, then you should remember their names. Another example. Christina was my first lover. She was at the girls’ school about a mile from my boarding school. We had sex in the girls’ change room one night at a school dance. She told me I was quite terrible, by the way. I’ve thought about looking her up again to show her I’ve improved. Alicia came after that, and then the two Dianas…need I go on?”

He was taking up all the air. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She didn’t want him to know. She tried to think of some names. Just throw out some names and maybe he would stop. “Alex.”

His eyes narrowed as he stared her down. “Alex McKay? You slept with Alex McKay?”

Damn it. It had been the first name to come to mind. “No. It was a different Alex. Alex Jones. And then there was Harold.”

“You slept with a man named Harold? How bloody old was he?”

“Damn it, it’s none of your business. Why are you being such a shit?”

He crowded her, obviously using his height advantage for maximum intimidation. “It is my business. You told me you wanted sex. You told me you had many lovers. You lied on both counts because your pussy had zero interest in me, and if you’ve had more than one or two hurried encounters I’ll be shocked. So I want the truth. How many and why? Why did you crawl into bed with me when you didn’t want a fuck?”

Every word felt like a little bullet peppered on her skin. She’d wanted some affection, but like all things in her life, it had gone utterly wrong. She’d been stupid to try and she just didn’t care anymore. He could think whatever he liked because he was an asshole. “None, okay. I haven’t had any lovers. Is that what you want to hear?”

He growled and turned away and then somehow his fist was going through the drywall.

The room got utterly silent and the moment seemed to linger. Chelsea stared, unsure of what to do. There had been more emotion in that single action of placing his fist through the wall than she’d ever seen from him. The trouble was she was pretty sure that emotion was pure rage. “Simon?”

He pulled his fist out, cursing as he opened the door to the bathroom and strode through, leaving her behind.

What the hell had just happened? Simon was always in control, always a gentleman. She’d never seen him less than perfectly courteous before she’d pushed him tonight.

Not always. Sometimes he was a Dom, and he’d brought her as close to pleasure as she’d ever been in her life.

“Go to sleep, Chelsea. I’ll spend the rest of the night in the guest room.” His voice floated out from the bathroom, a flat monotone, nothing like his usual lyrical tones.

Why had he turned on her like that? Shouldn’t men want to have sex? He claimed he hadn’t had sex in six months. Shouldn’t he have been all over her?

Maybe everyone was wrong. They’d told her Simon wanted her. Jesse joked about it all the time, but she’d offered herself to him and he’d turned her down in a deeply brutal fashion. What had he meant by asking her for a kiss?

Maybe he wasn’t as nice as she’d thought. Maybe he was just like all the rest. He was just better at hiding it.

He walked out of the bathroom, heading straight for the bedroom door, and she couldn’t stop. The voice in her head was telling her to let the man go. She could go to sleep and come up with a new plan in the morning. She could leave before he was awake. Hell, she could just accept the inevitable, head to her sister’s place and let Ian take over. Anything was better than picking a fight with Weston, who had just proven he was wishy-washy in the best case, a liar in the worst.

So why did she follow him out? Why did she march right behind him as he strode into the kitchen and opened the freezer?

He didn’t bother to look back at her. “I told you to go to bed, Chelsea. It’s late and I don’t want another fight.”

He might not want one, but she was primed to start one. “What’s up, Weston? Does the mighty Brit not like sad little virgins?”

He stopped for a moment, his head hanging down. “The bloody Brit doesn’t want to hurt a woman who has no idea what she’s asking for.”

So that was what he thought of her. “Really? You think I don’t understand the mechanics of sex. Wow. You do think I’m an idiot.”

He pulled out a handful of ice and quickly deposited it on a kitchen towel. “I never said anything like that. Though you’re naïve if you think that wouldn’t have hurt. Don’t try that on the next bloke. He’ll take you up on the offer and you won’t like it. You can’t tell a man you want him to take you hard and fast and expect to not get hurt.”

The next bloke. Not him. He was done with her. Somehow that hurt her deep. So damn deep. She hadn’t been aware that she could ever ache like that again. She’d been sure she’d buried that part of herself so deep she wouldn’t see it again, but Simon brought it out of her. He was her kryptonite, her weakness. Something nasty welled inside her. She wasn’t going to let him see her hurt. She’d done that when she was a child and it had only made her tormentors happy. She wasn’t going there again. “Maybe the next bloke will be able to get it up around me.”

She turned, but didn’t get more than a step away from him before he was whirling her around, her wrist caught in his hand.

Arctic blue eyes stared down at her and his jaw was as hard as granite. “I would suggest you tread very carefully for the next few moments. I’m a bit on the edge, love, and you’re acting like a righteous bitch. You’re rewriting history so I come out as badly as possible. Let’s not forget. You came on to me.”

“I won’t again. Trust me. I learned my lesson. You can be quite mean when you want to be.”

He dropped her hand and sighed, turning away. “I wish you would figure out which box to fit me in. It gets exhausting. One minute I’m pure evil and the next I’m some sort of neutered brother figure. This isn’t going to work, is it? I’m being a bloody fool again.”

Her anger deflated like she’d released a valve, and all the bad shit slowly leaked out in the face of his slumped shoulders. When she looked at it without the filter of her embarrassment, she really had been hard on him. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t want her. It wasn’t exactly hers either. She’d always known he didn’t really want her. He had a hero complex and there was nothing wrong with that. “I’m sorry. I thought I could see what it felt like. I really didn’t mean to piss you off.”

“You don’t understand me at all.” He slumped into the kitchen table chair.

Probably not. She wasn’t good with people. It was why she should never have even tried. She’d spent most of her life hiding from people. Still, she couldn’t walk away. She picked up the discarded cloth and sat down across from him. His hand looked all right, just a few scrapes. “I don’t understand much of anything, Weston. Can I see your hand?”

He sighed and let her take his hand in hers.

She put the ice over it. “I know you’re not evil.” She’d seen pure evil and he didn’t even come close. “And I certainly don’t think of you as my brother.”

A long moment passed. He allowed her to hold the ice to his hand. His eyes finally found hers and she saw a deep weariness there. “Why the heavy pass, love? I wasn’t pushing you.”

Because he didn’t really want her. She’d misunderstood him. “It’s not your fault so don’t blame yourself. I guess I just got sick of being the virgin.”

His mouth turned down in a fierce frown. “Ah, so you’re curious.”

Only when it came to him. She was pretty sure she’d go back into her shell now. It was better than the alternative, which was finding anyone other than Simon. She didn’t want anyone but him and that might be her downfall. She latched on to anything but her humiliation. “Why did you go all berserker on the wall?”

He chuckled but it was a frustrated sound. “I think we can blame that on my unruly cock.”

So he wanted her, but he didn’t want to want her? Or he hated that he wanted her? She was confused about everything. It had all been one massive mistake. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you a virgin?”

Oh, she so didn’t want to go into that with him. “I was busy with my amazing career of being the world’s information broker. Not a lot of time to hook up.”

He sighed. “Why can’t you ever be honest with me?”

“I am.” Partially. “The only person I trusted was Charlotte. Charlotte spent five years pining over Sat..Ian. There weren’t a ton of double dates. We kept to ourselves. I was on the run for most of my adult life. Charlotte and I were always on the move. We never stayed in any one place for more than a couple of months.”

His face softened as he continued to look at her. Something about the way he never looked away made her feel like the center of the damn planet. “Has settling down been hard?”

Something released inside her as his voice went back to normal. He was letting it go for now, thank god. She felt the weight of his hand in hers. She wished she didn’t like it so much. “It’s easier than I thought it would be. It’s the little things that make it nice. I thought I would miss seeing new places and the thrill of the exotic, but the truth is I spent most of my time in front of my computer so I didn’t take advantage of it. Dallas is good. It’s hot, but I kind of enjoy it. I was born in North Carolina. I like to think the heat is my birthright. I was always so cold in Russia.” She bit back the need to shiver at the way she’d been torn from her mother. She forced herself to turn to pleasanter thoughts. “I like my place. It’s nice. I like this taco stand across from my building. I have no idea what kind of sauce they use but the beef tacos are like heaven. Weird people. Seriously weird. Like I heard them talking about trolls one day, but even that’s kind of cool. I like knowing I can always walk over there and grab one. That sounds stupid, but I like knowing I don’t have to find a new taco place.”

She pulled the ice away and looked at his hand. It was only a little red. Even his damn hand was big and masculine, and she shivered at the thought of the way he’d touched her when he’d kissed her.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s fine now.” He flexed it, only wincing a bit. “Just a little bruised, but I assure you I can still handle a gun. I’ll be perfectly fine by the morning.”

From her right, her cell trilled. She turned toward the sound.

“Who the hell would call you at this time of night?” Simon stood up.

She was kind of a night owl. Pretty much anyone who knew her and needed something would call her at all hours. “I have people I know all over the globe, though usually they get me on the computer. A couple of people have my cell.”

He got to the phone first, picking it up and looking down at the screen. “Who is The Mixer? What does that even mean?”

She laughed a little. It was only reasonable that Al was the one who got back to her. He’d always been chatty. He almost never had great info, but he was incredibly smart. “His real name is Albert Krum. He’s a sweetheart. He’s also a hell of a hacker. He’s known for code mash-ups. He’s made some super-fun viruses. He’s also one of the people I asked to look around for me so I should probably talk to him.”

Simon handed her the phone. “Put him on speaker.”

She slid her thumb over the screen and then engaged the speaker. “Hey, Al. Thanks for getting back to me so quickly, though you should know it’s the middle of the night here. I moved to Dallas. Where the hell are you? Did you finally buy an Asian bride off Silk Road and move to Thailand? I told you that would get you in trouble.”