Maybe she was a little more submissive than she was willing to admit—but only when it came to him.
Simon’s hands moved over her back, sliding down to cover her butt. Sweet heat suffused her. Even as he cupped her ass, she wanted more. So much more. She wanted to be exactly in the place he’d described to her. She wanted him to take her to his home and make her his queen, or duchess, or whatever as long as she was his just for a little while.
“Tell me you want me.” Simon was staring up at her, his blue eyes hotter than she could ever remember them.
“I want you.” It was easy. She could give him that. She wanted him to take her, to be the only man who ever entered her.
Damn it. She didn’t mean that. She would move on after him.
And still it was true. “I do want you.”
He stood up and hauled her into his arms like she weighed nothing. “Then let’s not waste more time.”
She agreed. She’d wasted far too much time.
Chapter Six
He was an idiot. What the bloody hell was he doing? He carried her from the disgusting bathroom into the relatively clean by comparison bedroom. He couldn’t fuck her here. She deserved more. It was why he’d started talking about his stupid dreams. He’d started having them the night after he’d met her. He was back at Norsely but this time he felt like he belonged. This time he wasn’t just the spare. He wasn’t always in his brother’s shadow, the younger son who screwed up everything. He was a son of Norsely and he belonged.
It didn’t matter. He gently placed Chelsea on the bed. He had everything he needed. He had money and a place in the world. He didn’t need a stupid manor house. He didn’t need his brother to know him.
He did need her.
He was starving for her.
“I’m going to take your pants off now.” He was the slightest bit wary. She was twenty-seven. He didn’t buy her “I didn’t have time to have sex” act. Something had happened. He wasn’t a fool. He knew her history. He’d read the file on her and her sister. There had been a reason Ian had put a knife in her uncle’s back. And her father… The one good thing Eli Nelson had done on this earth had been to kill the fucker. He’d tortured his daughter. Something had set her off men, and he had to be careful because he didn’t want to be just another man who did her wrong.
She was on her back, propped up on her elbows, somber eyes looking down at him. “I don’t want you to see me.”
Her scars. She was touchy about them. “I’ve seen you, Chelsea. They didn’t bother me before. Do you want to see mine? I’ve got scars, too. No one gets to my age in this business without a few scars.”
She nodded and rolled to her side. She was such a hard case. In order to get her to open even the slightest bit, he damn near had to bleed for her, and yet he shrugged out of his shirt. His chest bore the scars of his youth. She’d likely seen them before, but he hadn’t pointed them out, hadn’t told her the stories.
He pointed to a long, snake-like scar that ran from his left side collarbone to almost touch his sternum. “Not exactly pretty.”
She got to her knees, her eyes widening. God, when she looked at him with that little bit of wonder in her eyes, his cock got rock hard. No woman had ever looked at him the way Chelsea did. She wasn’t lusting after his money or the fame that came with being royal. She just wanted what he could give her. “Can I touch it?”
It was going to be a frustrating night. “Yes.”
She let her fingertips trace the scar. “Where did you get it?”
“I was fifteen and working for the summer at my uncle’s ranch. A calf got stuck in a fence and then I took his place.”
“What? What the hell were you doing with a cow?”
It was good to know he could still surprise her. “A calf, love. I wouldn’t have been able to get a full-size cow out. Unfortunately, I got stuck and panicked a bit. The barb tore its way across my chest. My uncle’s foreman sewed me up. It was also the first time I tried rotgut whiskey. I woke up with a raging hangover, this scar, and my aunt screaming at my uncle.”
“Uhm, your uncle is a billionaire. He couldn’t take you to the doctor?”
Her hands on his skin felt so fucking good. “Apparently that’s not the cowboy way.” He couldn’t help but grin. “I didn’t mind. I just wanted to fit in. I liked riding herd. I understood it. My mother was an equestrian champion in her youth, but I always preferred western tack. Working a horse like that should mean something beyond showing off for a ribbon. There’s purpose in riding herd.”
So much of his life had been for show, but those summers in Texas held meaning.
“What about this one?” Her fingers moved to a place just above the waist of his slacks. She had to be able to see just how hard his cock was, but she stared at a nasty puncture scar above his hip bone.
“RAF training. I was in a helicopter accident. Luckily I wasn’t the one flying.” It had been bad. High winds had sent the chopper into a tailspin and they had hit the ground, bouncing several times before stopping. Everyone had survived, but he’d broken his arm in two places, broken two ribs and lost a small portion of his liver. Apparently that grew back. Lucky for him.
“You can fly just about anything, can’t you?” She brushed against the scar, staring at it like it was a piece of art she was studying. She seemed to have made a study of him.
“Yes. I flew Tornados mostly.” Panavia Tornados, a sleek, styled fighter jet. Sometimes he missed flying. It was something he’d been bloody good at. “But I also can fly choppers and small aircraft. I quite like flying. I’ve been trying to talk Tag into getting a company jet.”
“He’s a cheap bastard.” She smiled a little. “That’s two whole scars, Weston. Not exactly impressive to a girl like me.”
“The rest are lower. Do you want to see them?” He took a long, steadying breath.
Chelsea stood. She was obviously awkward without a shirt, and her skin had flushed as though she’d finally remembered where she was. For a second, he was sure he’d lost her and that she’d go back and find her shirt and they would be at another impasse. Then she slowly began pushing the pants off her hips. She shimmied out of the PJ pants and stood in front of him wearing nothing but a pair of panties that a granny likely would throw aside as far too distasteful.