Chapter 46
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Elle
It’s been two weeks since I moved in with Seb, and everything still feels surreal. I can’t believe how easily we’ve fallen into this new rhythm – waking up under the same roof (I’m still sleeping in the guest room), making breakfast together, spending our days in the comfort of each other’s company. But even with how easy it feels, there’s always that small flutter of excitement whenever we head out together. Our dates, our adventures, they’ve been the highlight of the past few weeks.
We started simple enough, just walking my old neighbour’s dogs at the park, a casual outing that turned into hours of wandering and laughing and sampling a plethora of street food. I’d forgotten how much fun it could be, not needing a plan, just following the dogs and letting the world unfold around us.
Today, though, we’re at a bowling alley, Seb’s arm slung over my shoulder as we wait our turn. The smell of popcorn and stale beer fills the air, the buzz of conversations around us blends with the sound of balls crashing into pins. I’m dressed casually, in jeans and a sweater, and Seb can’t stop looking at my arse, much to my amusement.
“Okay, okay, just watch me,” Seb says, stepping up to the lane, clearly confident.
I raise an eyebrow, leaning against the wall. “You’re going down, Sterling-Knight.”
He grins over his shoulder. “Oh, I don’t think so, love.”
My heart flutters at the term of endearment slipping so easily from his lips.
His first ball slides down the lane, a perfect strike. My eyes widen in mock disbelief.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I laugh, shaking my head. “How did you do that?”
“Practice,” he says smugly, tossing me a wink before taking a seat next to me. “It makes perfect, don’t you know?”
I wish I did.
“Yeah, well, I’ll still beat you,” I mutter, stepping up to the lane. My turn comes, and I roll the ball with everything I have, only for it to curve awkwardly and bump into the gutters.
Seb bursts into laughter, and I stick my tongue out at him. “Okay, that was one time. One time. I’m warming up. You’re still going down.”
Metaphorically. I wish you were going down literally.
“You’re cute when you’re competitive,” he says, eyes twinkling. “But you might want to work on your technique.”
Please!
I shake my head but smile at him, taking another deep breath as I line up my next shot. I need to focus. It’s time to get my ball and my mind out of the gutter.
This time, I manage to get a few pins down, though nowhere near as impressive as Seb’s perfect strike.
We continue like that for a few rounds, teasing each other and laughing, until we finally decide it’s time to call it a night.
My body is thrumming with anticipation. We’ve been flirting and slowly teasing each other all night, and I’m sure it’s finally, finally going to lead somewhere.
As we walk out of the bowling alley, Seb nudges me. “So, what’s next on our list of adventures?”
I smile, feeling that familiar warmth spread through my chest. “How about something…creative?”
Seb nods. “Sounds perfect.”
Later in the week, we take a cookery class together. It’s a beginner’s pasta-making class, and as soon as we walk in, I’m greeted by the smell of fresh herbs and garlic. Seb and I are paired together, and I love how he’s so willing to let me take the lead, teaching him how to knead the dough and roll it into thin sheets.
“Your pasta skills need a little work,” I tease, but his eyes are warm with affection as I show him how to handle the dough properly.
I’m grateful for how patient he is in our relationship, for how he guides me without making me feel like a total novice, and it’s nice to be able to return that for once.
At one point, he accidentally spills flour all over the counter, and we just laugh, grabbing a dish towel to wipe it up.
“You’re adorable when you’re messy,” he says, brushing some flour off my cheek.
“Thanks, I think.” I laugh, wiping my hands on my apron. “But we better not burn the kitchen down with this pasta.”
After a lot of laughter, a little chaos, and some seriously questionable attempts on his part at making ravioli, we finally sit down to enjoy our meal together as the final part of the class. His pasta isn’t perfect, but it’s our perfect mess, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Next up is roller skating, a date idea Seb suggested because he’s been raving about it since we started talking about trying new things together. At first, I’m skeptical. I’ve never been roller skating before, ever, and I really don’t like the idea of trying to stay balanced on four wheels. I much prefer the ice.
“Trust me, Elle, it’ll be fun,” Seb says, squeezing my hand as we step onto the roller rink.
It’s not long before I’m holding onto Seb for dear life, my feet slipping out from under me at least three times in the first ten minutes.
“You’re fine, love. Just relax,” Seb reassures me, laughing as he pulls me back onto my feet.
“I’m not fine,” I admit, my face flushed with embarrassment. “I’m going to fall and break something.”
Seb smirks, skating backwards a few steps to put some distance between us. “You don’t have to be graceful. Just let go.”
I take a deep breath and try to relax, focusing on staying upright. Slowly, with Seb’s steadying hand in mine, I begin to gain confidence, and soon enough, we’re skating side by side, laughing as I finally get the hang of it.
“This is amazing,” I admit, the wind rushing past us.
Seb’s smile softens. “I’m glad you’re having fun. You’re breathtaking when you’re happy.”
As the weeks go by, these dates become more than just fun activities – they’re our way of learning, of growing, of discovering the little things about each other. Every moment spent together builds our connection, deepening the bond between us. I know it’s only the beginning of what we’ll share, but right now, I’m savoring every second of it.
We’re taking our time, and that feels like the most important thing of all. But there’s no denying that there’s something more building between us. A longing.
As the days pass, the quiet moments between us grow more charged. I catch myself lingering in the silence, savoring the way Seb looks at me, like he’s seeing me for the first time all over again each time our eyes meet. His smiles are slow, deliberate, and every word he speaks feels weighted, important.
It’s all so damn beautiful, so different from anything I’ve ever had before. We talk for hours, exchange stories about our childhoods, our fears, our dreams. I get to know him, piece by piece, like we’re building something I’m not sure I ever want to tear down. But there’s this pull between us, something electric that I can’t quite ignore.
The longing builds quietly, steadily, like the tide creeping closer to the shore.
But I can’t shake the feeling that something’s missing. A touch. A kiss. Something physical.
It’s frustrating. We’re close – so close – and yet the space between us feels like an ocean, no matter how many times we reach out.
I notice how his hand brushes mine when we walk side by side, how his fingers graze the back of my neck when he talks to me, how his voice lowers in that way that sends shivers down my spine. But it’s never enough. Not enough to bridge the gap. Not enough to make me feel like I’m not waiting for something that may never come.
And so, I begin to feel restless.
Every time our fingers touch, my heart races, and I want to pull him closer, to feel his body pressed against mine. But I hold back. I know he’s taking his time, and I’m willing to wait – but for how long? How long before the frustration boils over? Before this simmering tension finally erupts?
The thought of it keeps me up at night, tossing and turning under the weight of my own longing. And yet, when I’m with him, when I see the look in his eyes as he listens intently to every word I say, I can’t help but remind myself that this – whatever this is between us – is real. It’s growing.
I just wish it could move a little faster.
Finally, there’s pottery. The studio is small, intimate, and smells like clay and fresh paint. I’ve always wanted to try it, so Seb took the chance to sign us up for a class, taking my creative suggestion a little too literally.
We spend hours at the wheel, our hands getting dirty as we try to make bowls and vases. Seb’s a natural, of course, his hands steady and skilled as he shapes his creation. Meanwhile, I’m struggling to keep my clay from collapsing in on itself.
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” he says, laughing softly. “It’s just for fun.”
“But it’s your turn to teach me!” I pout, glancing over at his perfect pot.
Seb grins, leaning over to help me guide my hands. “Okay, okay. I’ll make you a pro yet.”
And he does. With his help, I manage to create something that doesn’t look half-bad. By the time we finish, we’re both covered in clay, laughing like kids.
The laughter from the pottery class is still fresh in my mind as Seb and I head back home, our hands clasped together. My clothes are streaked with dried clay, and my cheeks ache from smiling, but the energy between us feels electric – buzzing with something unspoken.
We step inside, the door clicking shut behind us. Seb drops his keys into the wooden bowl on the console table, and I glance at him as he kicks off his shoes. The soft light from the kitchen casts shadows on his sharp jawline, and the heat pooling in my chest swells.
It’s been weeks of playful, sweet dates. Weeks of holding hands, stolen kisses, and building trust. But the walls between us are thinning, and my patience is running out. I want more. I want him.
Seb turns to me, his smile easy and teasing. “You okay?”
I nod, taking a step closer. “Yeah. Just…thinking.”
“About what?” he asks, his tone light but curious.
“You,” I admit, my voice breathy. “Us.”
Seb’s brow furrows slightly as he steps closer, his focus entirely on me now. “What about us?”
I exhale, letting the heat that’s been simmering inside me rise to the surface. “I want you, Seb. I’m tired of waiting.”
His eyes widen slightly, and I see the way his throat bobs as he swallows. “Elle…” His voice is low, almost pained.
I reach for him, placing my hands on his chest. “I’m not scared,” I whisper, my voice trembling with urgency. “Not of you, not of this. I’m ready, Bas. So fucking ready.”
Seb’s hands come up to gently hold mine, his touch steady and grounding. “Elle, I—” He pauses, his jaw tightening. “You don’t have to rush this. I want you to be absolutely sure.”
“I am sure,” I insist, my fingers curling into his shirt. “Seb, I’ve never felt like this before. I’m done holding back.”
His grip tightens slightly, and for a moment, I see something flicker in his eyes – a deep, primal hunger he’s keeping carefully in check. “It’s not about holding back,” he says, his voice rough. “I need you to understand something.”
“What?” I ask, my breath catching.
Seb leans in, his forehead resting against mine. His voice drops, dark and velvety. “Once I have you, Elle, I won’t let you go. Not for anything. Not ever.”
His words send a shiver through me, heat pooling low in my stomach. My pulse quickens, and I can feel the strength of his restraint as if it’s a physical barrier between us.
“I don’t want you to let me go,” I whisper. “I meant every single word of our vows, Seb. This marriage is real. You’re it for me. Forever.”
Seb closes his eyes, exhaling slowly as if steadying himself. “The contract,” he murmurs, his voice tight. “The things between us…I don’t want you to feel pressured.”
“I don’t care about the contract,” I say, my tone fierce. “This isn’t about that. This is us. I want to be husband and wife in every way.”
He opens his eyes, and they’re blazing with an intensity that takes my breath away. “You need to be sure, Elle. Because once I get a taste of you, I’ll never stop wanting you. I’ll never stop claiming you. I’ll possess you. Own you. Mould your pleasure into whatever I want it to be.”
His words hit me like a spark to dry kindling, igniting something raw and desperate inside me. I pull him down to me, capturing his lips in a kiss that’s anything but tentative. It’s hungry, demanding, and Seb responds with equal fervor, his hands sliding to my waist to pull me closer.
For a moment, the world narrows to just us – the heat, the pull, the overwhelming need. But then Seb breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against mine as we both catch our breath.
“I want you more than anything,” he says, his voice hoarse. “But I need you to understand what you’re asking for. Once this starts, I won’t be able to stop. I’ll want everything.”
“I want everything, too,” I say, my voice firm. “I’m not afraid, Seb. I trust you.”
He searches my eyes for a long moment, and then he exhales, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “We can still take it slow,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my temple. “But just know…slow doesn’t mean I want you any less.”
“No.” I shake my head, emphatic. “Not slow, Seb. I don’t want to wait any longer.”
“I just think your first time should be special. Give me time to plan something and make it memorable.”
It takes everything in me not to stomp my foot and jump on the stubborn mule.
“No!” I take a deep breath and force myself to calm down, but keep my tone firm so that he knows I’m not backing down over this. “I don’t want anything special. No hearts, no flowers, no romance. I want you to fucking ruin me, Seb. And I want it to happen at the club. This weekend.”
Seb’s lips curl into a slow, wicked grin, his gaze darkening. “Careful, Elle,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet and smoke. “If you ask me to ruin you, don’t expect to come out the other side unscathed. This weekend, I’ll show you exactly what that means.”
His words are both a promise and a warning, and they send a thrill through me. I know we’re teetering on the edge of something life-changing, but with Seb, I’m ready to take the leap.