Chelsea slowly woke up to a soreness in her abdomen and legs and a thick fogginess in her mind. She took in her surroundings, the downy comforter at her waist, the fresh linen scent, and darkness only broken by the numbers on an alarm clock, and gradually made her way out of the jet-lag haze. Stretching her arms high above her head she was surprised by the twinge of pain in her abs and upper thighs. A soft sound like a squeak slipped out of her mouth as she completed her stretch.
"Good morning," Chris mumbled, his voice raspy.
That's why I'm sore. "Morning," Chelsea whispered, pulling the duvet up over her mouth as she turned to face Chris. In the faint light she could tell his hair was tousled, his eyes thin, tired slits. Chris smirked at her. "What?"
"You're hiding." It was true, she'd pulled the covers up so that all he could see in the electronic blue glow were her eyes. Chelsea smiled. "I've got news for you, I've seen you naked." Chris tugged at the blankets causing Chelsea to giggle and wiggle completely under the covers. "Awww," he smiled as he voiced his disappointment as she moved.
It was completely dark under blankets, she groped in the darkness briefly before finding Chris' body. Her hands explored his torso in the dark before she pulled herself up against him. He moaned in a approval. Chelsea wrapped herself around him in a hug and squeezed tightly, the move allowed her to stretch her sore back. Another morning stretch sound escaped her lips.
"You make curious sounds when you wake up," Chris said.
"I need to exercise more."
"What?"
Mildly embarrassed, Chelsea mumbled, "I'm sore."
Chris didn't respond, which caused Chelsea's embarrassed feelings to multiply. All of a sudden the comforter fluffed upward, an obnoxiously bright light beamed into her blanket fortress as Chris tossed the cover over his head too. "I can't hear you down here," she couldn't see him for the bright light his phone emitted, but she could hear the smile in his voice.
"That's too bright," she said as she shielded her eyes. Chris disappeared above the covers and moved away from her, reaching presumably to put the phone away. She heard a click and a warm, gleam of a lamp filtered through the cotton wrapped around her.
"Better?" Chris asked as he slid back under the covers. He leaned on his side, holding himself on his elbow. The sheets fell smoothly over his shoulders and head, creating a cozy little tent. Lightly Chris brushed her face with his hand. Instinctively her eyes closed. "Why are you sore?" Even with her eyes closed, she could see his smirk. "Ms. Garcia I do believe you're blushing."
Chelsea flopped over on to her stomach, hiding her face and mumbling "shut up" into the pillows. Yet she couldn't help smiling. As the grogginess had completely faded she clearly remembered the evening before. More than the painful conversation or the way their bodies fit together perfectly, she remembered his words. "You are my type. It just took me a while to figure out what my type was." All at once she felt his warm lips on her spine and she squirmed. "Don't move," he spoke into her skin. Chelsea could feel the sheets moving away. A minute passed and she could still the cold breeze of exposure, so she rolled over. In the soft glow of the lamp the room looked yellow. Glancing at the window she could tell it was still dark outside, meaning it was either very late or very early. Jetlag, I hate you,'she thought. Chris had disappeared, "Where'd you go?"
Muffled sounds came from the entryway. Chelsea covered herself up and leaned in the direction of the noises, trying to see into the dark. Chris' silhouette emerged. He'd put pants on. "Lay back down," he instructed.
"I know it's late, but I don't think I can sleep anymore," stated Chelsea as she stared at Chris. The pants hung loosely off his hips. His waist was slender, which accentuated the broadness of his shoulders. A mountain man, she thought and smiled, he looks like a mountain man. The disheveled hair, the beard, and lack of shirt definitely gave the air of a man who could live off the land and didn't care what anyone thought about it. Chris must have noticed her looking him over, he leaned against the door frame, crossing his ankles as he did so, They just stared at each other. Chelsea hugged the blankets tighter. "What time is it?"
"Almost four."
"So, not time to get up."
He laughed, "Not quite."
"I'm sorry." Though there was a definite light in his eyes, the rest of his body looked tired and Chelsea felt bad for waking him.
Chris scoffed. "Lay back down."
"But, I can't."
He stood at the edge of the bed. Again, his hand touched her face and she closed her eyes. He took hold of her chin, softly kissed her lips and repeated himself, "Lay back down." Opening her eyes, Chelsea did as she was told, sliding back down onto her back. Not once did her eyes leave his. Softly he smiled at her, "Roll over."
"What am I, a puppy?" Chelsea joked, propped up on just slightly on her elbows.
"Lay on your stomach." Chelsea arched an eyebrow in a question, but followed his instructions. There was another moment where she wondered if he'd left the room again, but the she felt him crawling back onto the bed.
Then he was sitting on her.
"What are you doing?"
"Would you just hush." Chris said while laughing softly. He adjusted how he sat, sliding backward a bit so he was no longer sitting on her lower back but squarely on her buttocks. Chelsea writhed somewhat underneath him. "Am I too heavy?"
"What are you doing?" Then she began to wonder, What is that smell, plumeria? Chelsea turned her head, craning, attempting to see what he was doing and why she smelled the lotion she'd stashed in her purse.
"Stop." Chris forcefully put his hands on her shoulders. "You said you're sore, I'm going to help."
"You caused it," she muttered much to Chris' pleasure.
He laughed as he began to firmly rub her shoulders. "How's that?"
Incredible,' Chelsea thought, but all she could manage to get out was a weak moan. His strong hands forcefully massaged her shoulders, arms and back. Chelsea felt like putty. "I love this lotion," Chris began.
I can't talk to you while you do this, Chelsea thought, hoping he'd some how understand.
"The smell of these tropical flowers makes me think of you. I walked by a candleshop in LA once, smelled this and stopped and bought the thing. I immediately regretted the purchase once I got home. What room am I going to burn a Hawaiian candle in? I just keep it in my room, because it smells like you. Is that cheesy? That's cheesy."
Chelsea laughed lightly into the pillow, but still didn't want to speak. The feeling of his hands kneading her love-sore muscles was unbelievable. "It's cheesy," she managed to mumble.
"Almost as cheesy as four AM massages."
"Mmm hmm."
"You're not very chatty," Chris stated sarcastically.
"You told me to hush," her words were slow and slippery, melted like her skin under his touch.
"I did, didn't I?" His thumbs pressed hard into her lower back and a moan escaped her lips. "I found a sweet spot." He pressed harder. "I once had a hot stone massage. Hurt like hell in the moment, but afterwards my muscles felt perfectly renewed. Maybe I could call downstairs and see what they offer. I'd have to wait, it's too early." Chelsea attempted to respond, but she was so relaxed the words were too slurred and soft. "What?" Chris asked through a chuckle.
She turned her head and responded, "No, this is perfect."
"Hopefully you can sleep a little more. Then we can eat breakfast. I'll order something, we can eat right here. Or I could make something, there's that kitchen. There were a lot of little groceries along the street." Chris continued to talk about possibilities for the morning, but Chelsea was daydreaming about him in that little kitchen cooking her breakfast.
Chris Pine is offering to cook you breakfast, she thought excitedly. Then she halted her thought process. No, Chris, your Chris, is offering to make you breakfast.Why it hit her at that moment, she wasn't sure, but at that moment as he vigorously massaged her sore muscles she fully realized he was just a person. He's a person just like me. Full of problems and full of potential. Chelsea wriggled enough to cause Chris to slow his hands and she turned her head. "I don't want to sleep anymore."
"I know you think you can't, babe. Just relax." Chelsea grinned, babe.
"That's not it. I could. I don't want to." She rocked her hips back and forth until Chris let out a small laugh and had to move, she rolled over.
"God you're beautiful. And oh so naked." He was still on top of her, he leaned over and kissed the tops of her breasts. "Is what you're alluding to by saying you don't want to sleep?"
Chelsea put her hands into his hair, thoroughly enjoying where he was going, "No. I mean, I like your thought, but no." He looked up at her quizzically through his thick eyelashes.
"There is so much I don't know about you. You. I didn't know you could massage the crap out of my back. I want to know more."
A large grin grew on his face, "What do you want to know?" Chris flopped onto the bed next to her.
"Everything."
"That's going to take a while."
"Good thing it's early." Chelsea couldn't keep her hands to herself, she touched his hair, he cheeks, his shoulders, "I mean, I want to know you, not Chris Pine." Chris looked confused. "I mean. I know you said last night, earlier, that a lot of what you were feeling, we were feeling, was real. But there was a lot for show. I don't want to know the actor, I want to know you. More stuff like your secret hidden talent of back massages. More about why you have an English degree. Random talents people don't know about." He curled his tongue at her, she laughed. "I can do that too," she mirrored him.
"I am not surprised."
"What does that mean?"
"You're one hell of a kisser."
Chelsea smiled proudly, "Thank you. You're pretty good yourself."
"Let's see," he began, "you already know about my first kiss. High school?"
"Why not?"
Chris placed a hand on her waist, then he ran the hand up and down the small curves of he rbody, "I went to a private school, because my dad was an actor and that's what was done. It was expensive. Mom and Dad worked hard to get us into that school so I worked my ass off. I had no fun, whatsoever." Chelsea laughed. "I'm serious, I had a 4.0. I took advanced placement classes and worked to get into Stanford."
"So you went to Stanford?"
"Nope." It was Chelsea's turn to look confused. "I didn't get in. And I was devastated. When you're a teenager so much hinges on life expectations and what others think. I imagined my parents were extremely disappointed and it made me question everything. Now, up until that point I still didn't have a clue about what I wanted to do with my life, Stanford was it."
"4.0 and you didn't get in? Why?"
Chris shrugged. "Looking back, it really didn't matter. And like you've said, it happened for a purpose. I chose another school, picked a neutral major that I could use in various fields, then ended up doing theatre. I had been on so many sets as a kid, there was a part of me, a deep hidden part, that wanted all that. Not the acting, the lifestyle."
"Really?"
"Yeah, my dad worked so hard to get us all the perks. Keeping up with the Jones you know? I wanted to make it so he wouldn't have to work that hard or my kids wouldn't have to work hard."
"You want kids? That's surprising."
Chris smirked, "Why?"
"You don't strike me as the settling down and having kids type."
"Oh really?"
"Really." Chelsea felt immediate regret in her honesty.
"I guess that's understandable. After following the rules for so long, making the grades not partying with the sororities," he pinched her when he said that and she rolled her eyes. I need to explain to him how little partying I acually did in college, but at the moment she didn't want to talk, she just wanted to listen. "I have been making up for lost time. Clearly, it was a great decision," he joked. "Seriously. But I do, I want to have kids. Don't you?"
Chelsea couldn't help it, her eyebrows shot up in surprise at the question. "I don't know."
"Yes you do."
"No, I don't know if I want kids. Most of the time though, I lean toward no." Chris looked shocked. "I know what you're thinking, I'm a teacher I should adore kids. I do, but I get to send them home at the end of the day." That made Chris laugh, that comment always made people laugh. "But I honestly don't know."
"Did your husband want kids?" Chelsea looked at Chris, his look was unapologetic. He just wanted to know.
"Yes."
"And you didn't."
"Yes."
"How'd that work out?"
Chelsea smiled. "We had to have a heart-to-heart about it."
"And you don't have kids, so you won?" Chris asked.
"Nope. I saw how he was with his nephews or little cousins or even with my students. He was so good with kids. It was so painfully obvious he wanted kids so badly. I couldn't deprive him of that. So we planned to have kids later."
Sensing her sadness Chris pulled her forward and kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry."
"That's what love is about isn't it? It's not really compromise, it's knowing what the other person wants, what they need and being willing to do anything to give it to them." Even as she said the words she realized how wise the sounded, pleased with herself she looked up at Chris. "Not to freak you out or anything, you'd make really pretty babies."
Chris laughed and slid his arm around her waist, pulling her toward him, "And it's fun to practice."