33. Sebastian
Chapter 3 3
Sebastian
“Yes, I-I need to check on it. Yes.” Her eyes dart around the room. “That’s what I meant.”
She scrambles off me, and I mourn the loss of her tight heat.
My cum trickles down her thigh when she stands, and a primal part of me wants to gather it with my fingers and push it back inside her, claiming her all over again.
But her expression stops me cold—something’s not right.
She snatches up her clothes in a haphazard bundle.
I reach for her, my fingers grazing her hip. “Lil.”
But she’s already out of reach, hurriedly pulling on her shirt. “No. It will get cold.”
“At least let me take care of you first.”
“No, that’s not—I don’t need you to…” She can’t even finish a damn sentence.
“You’re shaking, Lil. Let me—”
“I said I’m fine!” Her voice cracks on the last word, and something inside me twists painfully .
She turns on her heel and practically flees the room, slamming the door shut behind her. The sound echoes in the sudden stillness, a harsh punctuation to whatever the hell happened.
I glare at the closed door, my hands clenching and unclenching at my sides. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Chase after her? Give her the space she so clearly wants?
Did I misread the signs?
I can still feel her, smell her on my skin. The ghost of her touch, the taste of her kiss. It’s branded into my senses, impossible to ignore. The way she was riding me, the sounds she was making… that wasn’t a mistake. That was two people who’ve been fighting this thing between them for too damn long, finally giving in.
But more than that, it’s the look in her eyes that haunts me. That flicker of fear, of uncertainty. It cuts deeper than I want to admit.
Fuck.
Roommates. That was the deal. That’s what she wanted. Why I stayed away as much as I could, while still keeping her close. Why I didn’t try anything, even though I wanted to so many times.
I shouldn’t have done that. It’s still too early. This is pure torture. Coming home every evening seeing her completely at ease in our apartment. Relaxed, free, smiling. Happy. With me.
The selfish part of me wants to keep her here forever. To wake up every morning to her sleepy voice, to come home every night to her warm embrace.
To build a life with her, in every sense of the word.
And I thought the only thing missing is my ring on her finger.
I couldn’t resist anymore.
All I wanted was to take care of her. Instead, I only managed to drive her away. Again .
Just like always.
I grab the whiskey glass, the amber liquid swirling like a vortex, pulling me in, like her eyes. Those damn beautiful eyes that strip me bare and leave me exposed.
I down the shot in one gulp, relishing the burn as it slides down my throat. It’s a welcome distraction from the tightness that’s been there since she walked out that door.
I pour another, the bottle clinking against the glass. The sound echoes in the empty room, mocking me. This is what I’ve been reduced to. Drinking alone in the dark, trying to numb the pain of losing her. Again.
I should be used to it by now. It’s not like this is the first time she’s run from me. From us.
But it never gets easier. Never hurts less.
That’s what I get for doing it to her.
I focus on the glass, at the way the light catches the edges, fracturing and refracting. It’s like looking into a kaleidoscope of memories, each one more painful than the last.
The first time I saw her, shy smiles and a punch that had me staggering. The first time I kissed her, soft and sweet. The first time I held her, our bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces.
And the last time. The way she—
Something’s different.
My eyes snap to the neatly stacked papers on the table.
Usually, they’re scattered everywhere.
I pick up the documents and skim through them. Amidst the familiar scrawl of my own handwriting, a new set of notes catches my attention. Neat, precise lines dance across the pages, a stark contrast to my hurried scribbles .
This is…
My eyebrows lift, and I take in the detailed analysis, the insightful comments.
Damn. She’s good. Really good.
No wonder her uncle was so keen on her working for his company. These aren’t surface-level observations. She’s dug deep, found connections I hadn’t even considered.
I shuffle through more pages, each one revealing a new facet. The level of detail is staggering, the depth of understanding unparalleled. It’s like seeing my own work through a magnifying glass, every strength and weakness laid bare.
I relax on the sofa, a low whistle escaping my lips. I knew she was smart, but this? This is next level.
She’s brilliant. Absolutely fucking brilliant. The way she’s broken down the complexities of the deal, anticipated potential pitfalls… it’s mind-blowing.
My gaze drifts to the closed door, and my chest tightens.
I toss the papers back on the desk, running a hand through my hair. What the hell am I doing? I should be out there, trying to fix this. Trying to make her understand.
But understand what? That I’m an asshole who can’t control himself around her? That I’m so damn desperate for her that I’ll take whatever scraps she’ll give me, even if it means ruining the fragile trust we’ve built?
I push myself off the sofa, gathering the scattered papers into a semblance of order.
I’m a fucking idiot.
I stride out of the office to find her and fix this, but the apartment is quiet, too quiet. No sign of Lil in the living room or kitchen. The dining table is set, the food she prepared earlier still sitting untouched .
My heart sinks.
Mechanically, I start cleaning up, putting away the food, and loading the dishwasher. Each minute that ticks by without her returning twists the knot inside me tighter.
I need to clear my head. I head to the bathroom, cranking the shower as hot as it will go. The water beats down on my skin, but it can’t wash away the tension knotting my shoulders. How can I fix this? Several scenarios play in my mind, each ending worse than the one before.
I towel off quickly, pulling on a pair of sweats. My feet carry me to her room before I even realize where I’m going, and I pause outside, hand raised to knock.
What the hell am I going to say? Sorry for fucking you senseless on the couch? Sorry for making you come so hard you forgot your own name?
Sorry for being so damn in love with you that I can’t think straight?
I lower my hand, resting my forehead against the cool wood. This is a mess. I’m a mess.
First, the sewing course, now this.
A scream pierces the silence, and I jerk back. Lil. I glance at my watch. 2 AM. Like clockwork.
I ease her door open, slipping inside. She’s thrashing on the bed, whimpers escaping her lips. It kills me to see her like this, trapped in the nightmare that haunts her every night.
Gently, I take her hand in mine, my fingers tracing soothing circles on her palm. I brush the hair back from her face, my touch feather-light. It’s a ritual I’ve perfected during college.
Since she moved in, she almost caught me one time, but I was quick enough, sitting down in the living room, saying I couldn’t sleep.
Slowly, so slowly, her breathing evens out, the tension leaving her body. She sighs, a soft sound that tugs at my heart .
Her eyelids flutter, and I hold my breath, waiting. Waiting for her to tell me to get the fuck out. But she doesn’t. She sighs again, a contented little sound. And then, so quietly I almost miss it, she murmurs, “Sebastian.”
I place a kiss on her forehead and leave the room, already calling Connor.
He picks up. “What’s up?”
“Did you find anything?”
A considering silence follows before he says, “I may have a lead.”
“Go on.” My pulse kicks up a notch.
“It’s not certain yet,” he says. “But I need you to check some things at your office. I need documents.”
“What kind of documents?”
“I’ll message you the details.”
“Okay. You’ll get anything you need.”
I look back to her door.
I’ll show her. I’ll prove to her that what we have is more than just physical. That I see her, all of her, and I want her by my side in every way that matters.