Chris woke up for the second time that morning, this time it was the small line of sunshine sneaking through a slit in the curtains that broke his sleep. His forehead creased and he moved out of the light, rolling over and facing the woman sleeping on her side next to him. He quickly noticed that Chelsea slept on her side, both times he'd found himself waking up next to her she was curled up, one hand carefully tucked under her cheek, knees bent almost to a fetal position and a small smirk on her face. What do you dream about? Chris wondered as he gently pushed her hair off her face. He stilled, expecting her to wake up but she didn't move. The cadence of her deep breathing didn't change a bit and Chris smiled.
"All worn out," he said lowly. He had to admit, he was a bit worn out himself. A promotional tour was always exhausting. Each day was full of interviews from early in the morning until late in the evening. Costars always wanted to go out and Chris usually obliged. A small smirk played his own lips, "You wore me out a bit as well." It was not the promotional tour that had his body heavy and sleepy. He always slept better, longer, and deeper after sex. It was just natural. The second time, the "baby-making practice" had been more physical and playful, less emotionally aggressive than the first. Chris sighed, "Do you really want to go to the museum? We really could stay right here, all day." He ran his index finger along her scar, down her neck and across her collarbone, Chelsea still didn't respond. "I'm taking that as a yes; let's stay in bed all day." Chris leaned forward and kissed her forehead, finally eliciting a reaction. Chelsea groaned slightly, turned her head int the pillow away from his touch, and continued to sleep. He chuckled and slipped out of the sheets. His pants lay in a pile at the foot of the bed, he snatched them up and walked across to the other room. Out of respect he had left his suitcase in this room, though he had secretly hoped it would remain vacant for the weekend. He grinned as he glanced over his shoulder back in the direction of the sleeping Chelsea. The suitcase sat on the dresser, Chris unzipped it and flopped it open. Quickly and without much though the pulled out jeans, a sweater, and a pair of briefs. His shaving kit was already in the bathroom, he'd freshened up a bit before when he dropped his stuff off before to museum last night. In a matter of seconds he was in the shower letting the hot water sear his skin red. I could use a massage, he thought as he kneaded soap into his own tired muscles. As he cleaned himself his thoughts wandered to the conversation he had prior to love-making. Chelsea really wanted to know him. He chortled as he thought of how she'd said it, "I want to know you, not Chris Pine." It sounded so strange at the moment, but he completely understood. On camera, in interviews, even out and about in LA he was someone so different than who he was behind closed doors. Even in his last few relationships he'd still been "on" most of the time. He had a persona to uphold. Chelsea wanted to know everything. Everything. A dark sense of dread crawled into his heart. He was no philanthropic headliner. He'd already admitted to getting into acting because of his selfish desire to continue to have the privileged life he'd grown accustomed to as a child. It was also a nice smack to the face of the handful of people who pointed out his awkward traits in high school. How much of his past would he have to divulge? He closed his eyes and turned into the water, letting it flow over his face. To be fair, he wanted to know all about her past. And she'd already opened up to him about her husband. The least he could do was share a few stories from his past relationships.
His eyes flew open and head snapped out of the water. Relationships. There had been many girls. Many. A strange rush of shame washed over his body like the hot water. It was a foreign feeling. Most of the time he openly bragged with friends about the beautiful women he'd been with. It felt wrong now.
"Holy shit," he muttered aloud, surprised by his own feelings. Chelsea did something to him, something he couldn't exactly put his finger on. She made him want to be a better person because of how good she was. A small huff escaped his lips, I wonder what kind of mistakes she's made. What a strange question, but the next time they were talking about "everything" as she had requested, that's what he wanted to know. Though the more he thought about it, he found himself imagining only the most ridiculous of things. She probably has overdue library books. Or maybe she cheated on a spelling test once. She probably ate a grape off of a bunch at the grocery store and didn't pay for it. Next thing he knew he was laughing.
"What's so funny?"
Chris wiped some of the steam off of the glass door to the shower. Standing wrapped in the fluffy white robe provided by the hotel was Chelsea. She was unbearably adorable in the oversized robe, square glasses and sparkly smile. A mischievous thought came to him and he grinned at her through the glass.
"What?" she repeated, reflecting his smile. Then her eyes darted up and down, taking in his nudity as subtly as she could. It only made him grin more. "What?" she asked again. "Why are you so happy?"
"Happy, what makes you think I'm happy?" He leaned against the glass, palms spread out. Chelsea placed her hands on the glass on his. Again, the smiled spread. His cheeks were starting to hurt.
"That cheesy grin on your face, for one." Chelsea thumped the door. "And the fact that you were laughing the shower." She pulled her hands back, and Chris saw his opportunity. Instantaneously he pushed the door open, "Hey!" Chelsea called out in surprise, "What are you?" He didn't give her time to finish, he pulled her into the shower, robe and all. Between giggles she managed to say, "Hey, I'm dressed."
"Hardly," Chris said as he pushed the robe off her shoulders. It fell into a soggy heap at her feet, she stared down at it. "Oops." He pulled her glasses, which had completely fogged over, off her face and placed them carefully on a small ledge.
"You are insatiable aren't you?" Slowly her eyes raised, meeting his. Her skin was already flushing to a warm pink from the steam of the shower. One of her well arched eyebrows raised questioningly at him.
"Why I don't know what you mean," Chris said overly dramatically. "I figured you need a shower as much as I do." He reached past her, his arm brushing her breast as he did so, to grab the shower gel. The small touch caused her to gasp softly.
"So you're saying I stink?" She shoved him jokingly.
"Playful Chelsea is my favorite," Chris squeezed some of the soap into his palms, his arms were around Chelsea and he did all this behind her back. They were dangerously close, but not touching. Chris kept his eyes on her, watching to see if she was going to sneak a glance at his obvious reason for pulling her into the shower.
"Too bad all you've got his stinky Chelsea right now."
"I'll fix that." He rubbed the suds on her arms.
Chelsea closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "I'm going to smell like you."
"I smelled like you once."
Her eyes remained closed as she grinned fondly. "I remember that."
"You should leave some of your stuff at my place," he said as rubbed the soap along her neck, down her sides and across her stomach, purposefully avoiding all her most sensitive areas.
"Your place?" Chelsea hadn't opened her eyes, once again she simply raised her animated eyebrow. Chris ran his hands down her thighs and he moved in closer so he could wash behind her knees. Her hips moved toward him like a magnet.
"Yeah, so you don't have to smell like me." Now he was brushing up against her, the sensation was almost unendurable, but he fought his strong urges to pin her against the tile and have his way with her and continued to tease her with his soapy hands.
"Like, in LA?" She whispered breathlessly. Chris moved back and a sigh of disappointment left her lips.
"Yeah, in LA. Give me your foot." Her eyes opened suspiciously. "Foot." He repeated. Chelsea used her arm to hold herself up with the tile and lifted her foot. He moved in close again, his hip pushing hard against the middle regions of her body. Her breathing quickened and she stifled a moan. He smirked as he washed her foot. He rubbed his hip against her as he turned. "Other foot." She obliged, quickly shifting.
"I guess you could leave some of your stuff at my place too then." He turned and looked deep into her eyes as he slowly let go over her foot. "If that's ok," her voice was small.
Chris turned and faced her, taking measured breaths to control himself. "I'm ok with that." He watched her shoulders rise and fall as she breathed laboriously. Oh, I've got you right where I want you. "Come here," she stepped forward and he stepped to the side.
"Hey," she said, saddened.
"You need to wash your hair, don't you?"
The deep growl she replied with surprised Chris, "Yes." She leaned her head back into the waterfall. "Shampoo?" Chris grabbed the complimentary shampoo and began to help her lather up. Quickly, Chelsea took over washing and conditioning her hair in what seemed to be record time. She turned and faced him.
"All clean?" Chris asked. Chelsea said nothing, she just stared at him her eyes wide. "I think I washed all of you," he said playfully.
Her lips pressed together and she seemed to be gathering courage to say something. "You missed some very important, um, areas."
"Oh did I?"
"You're killing me," she whispered. "I really want to go to the Van Gogh Museum."
"We'll go, once you're clean." Chris added more shower gel to his palms and began to massage her breasts. She moaned in approval. "Though, honestly, I could careless about Van Gogh right now." He slid his hands down her stomach and slowed to a stop just above where she obviously wanted him to go. "Clean? Van Gogh?" Chelsea just looked at him for a long moment, her eyes lit with lust. Her eyes then darted south, look at his evident desire to stay in the shower a little bit longer. She tilted her chin up and stepped backward, "Sure. Let's go." Mimicking his teasing gestures she lightly touched him, making it his turn to moan, and she started to leave the shower.
Chris grabbed her hips and pulled her back into him. Startled she let out a little yelp and a laugh. "It doesn't open until nine," he snarled into her ear, one hand taking a hold of her neck the other sliding down her belly and finally making contact.
Chelsea gasped in appreciation and pushed her hips into his hand, "So you're saying there's time for breakfast?"
Chris laughed loudly, "I love playful Chelsea," he said as he quickly turned her around and finished what he'd started.
***
Chris tipped the man generously who brought the room service up. The silver dome sat on the kitchen table. Next to it were two steaming cups of coffee and a large glass of orange juice. He looked over in the direction of Chelsea's room. He no longer heard the hair-dryer. She emerged looking refreshed, her skin flushed presumably from the heat of the hair-dryer though he'd like to take a little credit for it. She wore snug jeans and an oversized sweater. Her hair was voluminous.
"You look beautiful," he said sincerely.
She smiled, "I'm starving."
"Let's see what a traditional Dutch breakfast is." He lifted the dome as Chelsea sat down and began to add a little milk to her coffee. A plate with a various types of bread and butters greeted them.
"Is that toast?" Chelsea asked.
"I guess so."
"And peanut butter?" She was chuckling.
"Looks like it. And deli meats and cheeses."
"I like that about European breakfasts." Chelsea grabbed a slice of what looked like turkey, rolled it up and began to eat it. "I'm not a fan of eggs."
"They're good for you, high in protein."
"Says the guy who works out."
"You said you wanted to work out more. Are you still sore?" He winked at her.
"I currently am regaining feeling in my legs, thank you very much." She smiled into her coffee.
"You are welcome very much." A silence fell between them. Chris found himself longing to know what she was thinking. Just as he was about to ask he was interrupted by a knock. The man who delivered their food had returned.
"Many apologies sir, I forgot the hagelslag," he handed Chris a small bowl with a small lid and a tiny spoon sticking out of the side. "Enjoy."
Chris turned and looked at Chelsea who was looking up expectantly at him. "What's that?"
"Hagelslag."
"And that is?"
Chris lifted the lid. "Chocolate sprinkles."
"No way."
"Yep," he showed her the small bowl.
"Weird. What are we supposed to do with that?"
"I guess put it on the toast."
Chelsea grinned, "Peanut butter toast and chocolate sprinkles for breakfast. I'm not sure today can get any better." She took the bowl from his hand and sprinkled the hagelslag over her toast.
"You're going to eat that? The sugar. The calories." He whispered, only half joking.
"Oh please, you'll work it off later," she said as she took a bite. The innuendo surprised him.
"Oh I will?"
Immediately the blushed, "That's not what I meant, I swear. You exercise, you run, you have a trainer. That's what I meant," she rambled. Chris smiled and sat across from her, taking the strange chocolate sprinkles and putting some on his breakfast, when in Rome. "Can I be completely honest with you?" Chelsea said suddenly.
Chris looked at her, she was making herself another piece of peanut butter chocolate sprinkle toast. "Of course, Chels."
"I'm not exactly, experienced." She pushed a few stray sprinkles around on the small saucer. "I actually waited until I got married to," she paused as if she was embarrassed to say the word sex, "sleep with anyone. So I've really only been with one person,"
"One?"
"I mean, two," she smiled shyly at him. "I guess, I just wanted to explain my comment. I really didn't mean it like that. I mean, I'm all for it, but... Last night I just." Chris grinned, she was so delightfully uncomfortable she couldn't finish her sentences. It reminded him of their first date. "There were a lot of confused feelings built up and it all just boiled over. And you looked, look, so good. It's hard for a girl to control herself." Finally she made eye contact. The deep honest and desire for acceptance he saw in her eyes overwhelmed him. This was exactly what he'd been thinking about earlier. Not only was she the most kind and caring person he'd ever met, she was also pure. Chris leaned across the table, pulled her face to his and kissed her.
"I love you."
She pulled back, "I love you." Then with a grin and a chuckle she added, "You have hagelslag in your beard."
He shook his head and brushed his chin, he was so helplessly and completely in love with this woman.