Sebastian was probably downstairs in his study. He spent a lot of the daytime hours in there, sketching and listening to music. Even now she could hear classical music strains through the walls, at odds with the Spin Doctors CD she had in her player at the moment. Sometimes they went out to the park together and people watched, and she relaxed while Sebastian sketched.

She was starting to crave being in his presence, and that worried her. What if she grew totally dependent on him like she did Pisa? What if she couldn’t function without him?

What if, when their arrangement ended, he went on and dated someone new and left her to fend for herself? She’d still be half a person. A completely sexless robot of a girl.

And she kind of hated the thought.

She put down the thick brick of lavender soap she was cutting and brushed her hands off. Returning to the bedroom, she dug through the dresser she’d claimed as hers since she wasn’t staying in the guest bedroom anymore. She pulled out the bag of “fun” that Gretchen had insisted she buy. There was a lacy pair of panties with a heart cut-out on the butt that were kind of cute. And the handcuffs. She kept coming back to those.

Maybe she needed to give things a try after all. Take a leap of faith.

Trust Sebastian.

She began to undress.

Chapter Seventeen

Chelsea headed downstairs dressed in nothing but the skimpy pair of heart panties. Her breasts were loose and jiggled with each step, and her hair was down and around her shoulders. She had a few bruises on her legs from derby, but they were faded, and she knew her legs looked damn good because of her constant skating.

The handcuffs were gripped in her hand, so tightly that her palms were sweating. In her other hand she carried lube and a condom. She could do this. She could. It was no big deal.

Her plan?

Cuff Sebastian to the bed. Take control. Climb on top of him and have sex.

Problem solved, everyone cured.

Except . . . she was awfully nervous at the moment. Like sick-to-her-stomach nervous. And that wasn’t good for inducing sexy play with someone. She wished she had her damn skates on. She always felt badass in those. Instead, she was barefoot and feeling awkward.

Better to get this over with, she supposed. She could treat it like a Band-Aid. Get it done quickly. That wasn’t very sexy, either, but it was sensible. So she sucked in a deep breath and steeled herself, then knocked on his door.

“Come on in,” he called over the strains of violins.

While that was a nice thought, her hands were full at the moment. She considered the round doorknob, and then the items in her hands. And she waited.

“I said come in,” he called again, and she heard him get up from his desk. “Chelsea, what—”

The door opened.

She forgot to strike a sexy pose. Instead she stood there, nearly naked, certainly topless, clutching a bottle of lube, a condom, and some handcuffs.

“What—” he repeated hoarsely, and then ran a hand down his face, leaving a graphite streak on his cheek.

“Surprise,” she said in a shaky voice, holding up the items. “I thought maybe we could have a little fun?”

His green eyes were wide, and he gazed at her up and down. Her nipples prickled and her skin grew covered in goose bumps. She didn’t know if it was fear, anxiety, or arousal.

Probably not arousal, considering her stomach was still churning like she was going to barf.

“Chelsea . . . are you sure?”

“Why not?”

“Because all we’ve done so far is kiss. I thought you wanted to take things slow?” He gestured at her. “This is . . . breathtaking, but it’s not slow.”

“It’s fine,” she said, and hoped her body would catch up to her brain. She gestured at the stairs. “Wanna go up to the bedroom?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“Then let’s go.” Without waiting to see if he was going to follow, she raced back up the stairs. Her nerves were definitely getting the better of her, because she was acting like an idiot. It wasn’t even like sex was anything new to her. She’d had it plenty of times.

But when he wrapped his arms around her from behind and began to kiss her neck? She had to fight back the urge to run away. It wasn’t Sebastian that was the problem. It was all her.

She slid out of his grip and held the handcuffs up. “We’re going to use these, all right? I’m still feeling a little strange, so I want control. Total control. If you’re game.”

He eyed the handcuffs, then her, and nodded. “I trust you.” He moved toward the bed and then gestured. “How do you want me?”

She couldn’t say “On the other side of the house,” could she? Maybe she should have started with masturbating. Eased herself back into being sexual. Too late for that. Chelsea chewed on her lip, feeling weird and stupidly naked. “On the bed with your hands over your head, please.”

“Undressed or dressed?”

She considered for a moment. “Dressed?”

“Works for me.” He bounded onto the bed and laid flat, then stretched his arms over his head. One of his hands was dirty with graphite from his pencils, and the smear remained on his cheek. She smoothed it off his skin before reaching over to cuff his hands to the wooden slats on the bed.

“Do you want a safe word?” she asked lightly. Why was this so complicated? Why wasn’t she excited to have sex with him? Why was her mind focused on the fact that she was going to somehow ruin this?

Why, oh, why hadn’t she decided to just stick with kissing for now? Kissing wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t doing anything for her, but it wasn’t bad.

“My safe word can be ‘The Notebook,’ because if I’m thinking about that while you have me cuffed to the bed, I have issues.” His hands flexed in the cuffs.

She giggled despite the frantic thoughts in her mind. God, he was so incredible, always making her laugh and trying to make her comfortable despite herself. “All right. Mind if I start?”

“Please do.” He shifted on the bed, and she watched as he kicked his loafers off. Her gaze moved down his body, and she saw that his pants had tented in the front, a sure sign that he was aroused by her game. That was encouraging. She was doing something right, at least.

Chelsea climbed onto the bed and sat on her knees next to him, considering. “Where should I start first?”

“Wherever and however you want.” His voice was hoarse, and the way he was gazing up at her with those green eyes . . . it made her feel better. More in control. More powerful. Maybe Gretchen was right about this. Maybe what she needed was control.

She leaned over him and began to unbutton his shirt, proud that her fingers weren’t trembling. Much.

“I know this is a cliché, but god, you’re beautiful,” Sebastian said in a reverent voice. “You have incredible breasts and even better legs. And your ass is sublime.”

“You’re just saying that so I’ll get into bed with you,” she teased, quickly moving down his shirt and undoing buttons. She pushed the fabric open and he was wearing an undershirt beneath it, so she tugged it up from his belt and exposed his midriff.

She knew he enjoyed working out and rock climbing. He’d gone on a few rock-climbing meet-ups with Hunter Buchanan since they’d started living together . . . gotten married . . . whatever. He kept in shape, and as an athletic person herself, she appreciated that. His stomach was lean, the outline of muscles underneath his dusky skin. Gosh, he was pretty to look at. Warm, too. She trailed her fingers down his abdomen.

Sebastian groaned, his eyes closing and his head tilting back. “Your touch feels amazing, Chelsea. Whatever you want to do, I’m game. Touch me however you want.”