Chapter 34
Sebastian
Mia's body is tucked against mine, her wild curls spreading across the pillow like flames. She's still asleep, her breathing deep and even and the weight of her against me creates a pressure in my chest that has nothing to do with physical discomfort and everything to do with how right this feels.
I breathe in deeply, catching the scent of her hair, a blend of Ruthie's herbal bath salts and something uniquely Mia.
The memory of carrying her from the bath to the bed flashes through my mind.
How she'd drowsed against my chest, how I'd dried her with gentle care before we'd slipped beneath the covers and she immediately curled against me.
We hadn't done anything. She'd been too raw, too fragile, and I'd been content just to hold her, to feel her breath even out against my skin as sleep claimed her.
But now, with morning warming the cabin and her naked skin pressed against mine, my body has other ideas. My cock stirs, hardening against the curve of her ass. I shift slightly, trying to create some distance, but she makes a small noise of protest in her sleep and presses back against me.
Fuck.
Closing my eyes, I desperately try thinking of anything else. Hospital budgets. The time Bradley broke his arm falling off the barn roof. Anything to tamp down the growing arousal threatening my self-control.
It doesn't work. Not when I can feel the warmth of her, not when her scent surrounds me, not when every breath she takes presses her back more firmly against my chest.
Giving into temptation, I lean down and press a gentle kiss to her bare shoulder.
"Morning, baby."
She stirs, a low hum vibrating through her body as she stretches against me like a cat. The movement drags her ass directly against my erection, and I bite back a groan.
"Mmm, good morning," she mumbles, voice still thick with sleep. Instead of pulling away, she deliberately presses back harder, a smile curving her lips when my breath catches. "Very good morning, apparently."
I should make a joke, should ease back, should do anything but what I actually do, which is to grip her hip with one hand, holding her against me for a brief, tortuous moment before I release her.
"Sorry," I mutter, trying to put some space between us. "Just a natural reaction. I didn't mean to—"
Her hand finds mine where it rests on her stomach. "Don't apologize," she says softly, suddenly sounding much more awake. "I like knowing I affect you."
Before I can respond, she deliberately guides my hand downward.
"Mia," I breathe, uncertain if I should pull away or press forward. After yesterday, after her breakdown, I don't want to take advantage of her vulnerability.
She turns her head to look at me over her shoulder, green eyes clear and certain. There's no desperation there, no frantic need to escape pain through physical sensation. Just want, pure and simple.
"I just want to feel you," she says, as if reading my thoughts.
That's all I need to hear. My fingers slide lower, finding her already drenched. With a sigh, her eyes flutter closed and I trace gentle circles around her clit, learning what makes her breath catch, what makes her hips buck against my hand.
"Sebastian," she breathes, and hearing my name on her lips like that is my new fucking addiction.
I press my lips to her neck as my fingers continue their exploration. She's so responsive, so beautifully honest in her reactions. When I slip a finger inside her, she gasps, her internal muscles immediately clenching around the intrusion.
"More," she demands, voice breathy and strained.
I add a second finger, curling them forward to find that spot that makes her back arch, while my thumb continues its circles around her clit. She's so wet, so hot around my fingers, and the soft, helpless sounds she makes drive me insane with want.
"You're so beautiful like this," I murmur against her ear, nipping gently at the lobe. "So perfect."
Her hand comes up to tangle in my hair, pulling me down for a kiss that's messy and uncoordinated from this angle but perfect nonetheless. I can feel her body tensing, her thighs beginning to tremble as I increase the pressure and speed of my touch.
"That's it," I encourage, breaking the kiss to watch her face. "Let me see you, baby."
She turns more fully onto her back, giving me better access as my fingers continue their rhythm. Her eyes lock on mine, pupils blown wide with pleasure, lips parted on panting breaths. And fuck, there's nothing more beautiful than watching my girl come undone like this.
My desperate need to taste her has me lowering my head to take a nipple into my mouth. Sucking hard as my fingers drive deeper, is all it takes. She cries out, back arching off the bed as she comes. I work her through it, easing the pressure gradually as the aftershocks ripple through her.
When she finally relaxes, boneless and breathing hard, I withdraw my hand and press a gentle kiss to her forehead. The smile she gives me is lazy and oh so fucking satisfied.
"Good morning to you too," I say, unable to keep the smugness from my voice.
She laughs, the sound lighter than anything I've heard from her since Cheryl died. It wraps around my heart and squeezes tight.
"Oh, we're not done yet," she says, and before I can process her words, she turns fully in my arms, one hand sliding down my chest with clear intent. "Not even close."
Her eyes are bright, fevered almost, as she pushes me flat against the mattress. There's a purposeful grace to her movements when she straddles me. And when the morning light catches in her wild curls, creating a halo of fire around her face, my breath catches in my throat.
I've never seen anything more beautiful in my life.
"My turn," she whispers, and the husky quality of her voice sends electricity racing down my spine.
Her hand wraps around my cock, drawing out a sharp hiss through clenched teeth. Even more when she strokes me once, twice, before her thumb slides over the sensitive head to spread the wetness there.
"Mia."
If she keeps touching me like this, I won't last. Not after watching her come apart under my fingers, not after feeling her body trembling against mine.
She understands without me having to explain. A small, knowing smile curves her lips as she lifts higher on her knees, positioning herself above me. My hands find her hips, steadying her as she hovers there, the tip of my cock just barely brushing against her pussy.
Then with deliberate slowness, she sinks down onto me, taking me inside her in one fluid motion that steals the breath from my lungs.
The sensation of her body engulfing mine scatters my thoughts like leaves in a storm.
My fingers dig into the soft flesh of her hips, anchoring myself to her as pleasure threatens to sweep me away entirely.
"Fuck," I groan, the word torn from somewhere deep in my chest. "You feel so good, baby."
She doesn't move right away, just sits there with me buried deep inside her. Her hands splay across my chest, nails digging slightly into my skin as she shifts her weight, sending sparks of sensation shooting up my spine.
When she finally moves, it's with torturously slow circles of her hips that make me grit my teeth against the urge to thrust up into her, to take control of the pace. But this is her moment, her way of connecting, and I force myself to relax beneath her, to let her set the rhythm.
My hands slide up from her hips to her waist, feeling the slight indentation there, the perfect curve that fits my palms like she was made for me. She leans forward slightly, changing the angle, and I thrust up to meet her, drawing a startled gasp from her throat.
"Yes," she hisses, her rhythm faltering for a moment before picking up speed. "Just like that."
I comply, matching her movements, our bodies finding a perfect synchronicity that feels like we've been doing this dance for years. The sounds she makes drive me wild—little gasps and moans that tell me exactly what she likes, what she needs.
Her movements become more erratic, more desperate, and she braces her hands more firmly on my chest. I can feel her thighs trembling against my sides, can see the tension building in the way her teeth catch her lower lip.
Without warning she takes my right hand from her waist and guides it up to her throat, placing my palm against the delicate column with unmistakable intent. Her eyes meet mine, clear and certain, silently asking for what she needs.
I don't hesitate, don't second-guess. My fingers curl around the sides of her neck, applying just enough pressure to restrict the blood flow slightly without cutting off her breathing.
The effect is immediate—her pupils dilate further, her mouth falling open on a soft gasp as her inner muscles clench around me.
"Good girl," I murmur, watching her reactions carefully, adjusting the pressure in response to the smallest signals from her body. "That's it."
Her pace increases, desperation bleeding into her movements as she chases her pleasure.
I can feel her pulse hammering beneath my fingers, and can see the flush spreading across her chest, rising to her cheeks.
Her eyes are wide, locked on mine, showing me everything—trust, pleasure, need, all of it.
With my free hand, I reach between us, finding her clit with my thumb and circling it in time with her movements.
"Come for me," I command, increasing the pressure on her throat for a few seconds before easing off. "Let me feel you."
Her body goes rigid above me, back arching, head thrown back as pleasure crests through her.
The sight of her coming undone, combined with the exquisite tightening of her body around my cock, triggers my own release.
I thrust up hard into her, once, twice, and then I come with an intensity that whites out my vision for a moment.
Pleasure so sharp it borders on pain washes through me in relentless waves.
Mia collapses onto my chest, her body still trembling with aftershocks. Releasing her throat, my hands slide to her back to hold her close as we both struggle to catch our breath.
"Holy shit," she mumbles against my neck.
She shifts slightly, but doesn't disconnect our bodies, seemingly content to stay joined like this. The intimacy of it makes my chest ache with emotions I'm not ready to examine too closely.
"Can we just stay like this for the rest of the day?" she asks.
"Whatever you need," I tell her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
What I don't say, what I barely allow myself to think, is that I'd happily stay like this for the rest of my life—connected to her, holding her, feeling her breath against my skin and her heart beating in time with mine.
The thought should terrify me, should send me running for the emotional barriers I've spent years constructing.
Instead, I pull her closer, breathe her in, and let myself feel everything.