By the time they made it to Pisa’s apartment downtown, Chelsea was more than ready to get out of the car and get changed. Her entire body felt alive, her pulse throbbing with excitement. It had been far too long since she’d felt Sebastian’s body against hers, and she wanted that again. She took his hand and all but tugged him out of the car, eager and aroused.
“Should I tell the driver to wait?” Sebastian asked her as she pulled out her keys.
“Hell, no. Tell him you’ll call when we want to go back to the hotel. Pisa’s bout won’t be over for a few more hours.”
Sebastian grinned and leaned down to the driver’s side door and spoke to the driver. He tapped the door when he was done and stood again, and the window rolled up. The driver pulled away and then Sebastian was all hers again.
She put her hand out for him to take, and he did, and then she all but raced up the stairs, keys in hand.
Pisa was on the second floor of a town house setup, and inside the apartment was most of the furniture they’d had at the old place, since it was Pisa’s anyhow. There was the enormous low-backed sofa. There was the coffee table, the dining room table with the scratches on it from Chelsea’s soap-making experiments gone wrong. There were the art-deco posters of roller derby that she’d given Pisa for Christmas last year that gave a fun, kitschy vibe to the apartment.
And of course, if Sebastian moved into the apartment and peeked over the edge of the sofa, he’d see Chelsea’s nest of blankets, pillows, DVDs, and empty pretzel bags.
Definitely not on the same level as Sebastian’s cool, chic town house in NYC.
She immediately felt bad and started to straighten up, picking up things and adjusting pillows. “Pisa’s place isn’t normally a mess like this. I’m slobbing her up, I’m afraid.”
“I don’t care how it looks,” he said, taking a throw pillow from her hands and setting it back down on the couch. “I’m not here to judge her decor or to even see her. I’m here to see you. To bring you home with me, if you’ll come.”
“I want to come,” she said eagerly, and then blushed when she realized what it sounded like. “That way, too.”
“Then get your derby gear on, baby.” He grinned and his hands went to her shirt. “Or do you need help changing?”
“I know how to put it on,” she said, laughing. She batted his hands away. “Or is this you asking for a striptease?”
“I wouldn’t say no.” His hands moved to her hips again. “As long as I get to touch.”
She slid away. “Once the uniform is on, you can.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “Show me where you want me. You’re in charge.”
Chelsea bit her lip and then looked around the tiny living room. There wasn’t a lot of room in front of the couch, what with the coffee table and all. And they were probably going to move to the bed anyhow, once she got her groove on. Although, she had been sleeping on the couch . . . Well, she’d figure that out later. She put her hands on Sebastian’s arms and backed him up a few feet, so he was between the door and the sofa. “You stay right there. You can look but don’t touch.”
He grinned and gestured at her. “Show me what you’ve got, then.”
She lifted a finger, indicating that he should wait there, then grabbed her bag from the hall closet she’d been stashing it in to keep it out of the way. Pisa’s apartment was a one-bedroom and there wasn’t room for Chelsea to stay, really. Not that it had stopped Pisa from opening her home to her friend, and for that, Chelsea would have happily slept on the floor. She unzipped her bag and then left it at her feet.
Then she looked up at Sebastian. His arms were crossed, but there was a smile of amusement and pleasure on his face as he watched her. There was so much affection—love and lust—in his gaze that it made her ache, and she had to fight back happy tears again.
She was the luckiest girl on the planet, she really was. And now she was going to give him a show to demonstrate to him just how lucky she felt. So Chelsea put her hands on the hem of her shirt, and slowly tugged it over her head, revealing her bra. She’d only packed sports bras in her bag, since she hadn’t had room for much else, and this was one she’d worn on the track before. Weirdly enough, it was made of gray sportswear and had a Y back and ultra-supportive cups and . . . she felt sexy as hell in it. So she hummed a few notes of a song and then put her hands on the waist of her jeans, then turned around.
She knew Sebastian liked her ass. She had to admit it was a great one. Chelsea unbuttoned her jeans and slowly rolled the fabric down over her butt, pushing it out for his benefit.
“God, that’s pretty,” Sebastian breathed as she peeled the jeans down her legs. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
“Are you touching yourself?” she asked, voice light and playful.
“Not yet. Want me to?”
She nodded and dropped the jeans to her feet, then kicked them aside. Now she was in nothing but a pair of sporty panties and her sports bra. She hadn’t dressed to be sexy, but it didn’t matter. The look in Sebastian’s eyes told her plenty. So with another saucy wiggle, she hooked her thumbs to her panties and slid them down her legs, too, turning back around to the front.
He dragged a hand over his mouth, admiring her. “Now the bra.”
There was no sexy way to remove a sports bra, so she just opted for “quick” instead. She shimmied out of it and tossed it to the ground, then grabbed her breasts and jiggled them for his benefit. She was feeling sassier with every article of clothing that came off, and now it was time to start putting on her sexy gear. With a great flourish, Chelsea pulled out one knee sock and sat on the edge of the couch. She lifted her leg and began to slowly roll it on.