Chapter 20 – Lauren
Chapter
Twenty
LAUREN
W hen we eventually emerge back into the packed restaurant, Samantha is by our side in about twenty seconds flat. I tried to tidy myself up, but I likely still look like a woman who has been freshly fucked. The fact that we are very much together, Seb keeping a delightfully tight grip on my hand, probably also helped tip her off.
“Thank god,” she says, hugging us both. “I thought you’d never get your acts together—for two intelligent people you can both be really stupid, you know? Lauren, you’ve been sad all week, and Dad, Gabriel says you’ve been an absolute nightmare too. And now here you are, grinning your heads off after what I presume was some hot… hmmm, let me guess—bathroom sex? Back-office sex? Alleyway-behind-the-fire-escape sex?”
She’s definitely a bit drunk, her pretty face flushed and her eyes sparkling. There’s no way she really wants to know where her father just banged me and would never have asked if she weren’t tipsy. Gabriel joins her, grinning knowingly at the two of us. “Lauren,” he says, looking respectfully away, “your dress has a tear down the side. And Seb, you have red sequins stuck to your beard. Congratulations.”
He leaves us with a wink, dragging Samantha off to dance, and before long, Seb and I decide it’s time to sneak away from the party. Before we make our escape, he introduces me to his Russian friend Sasha, who turns out to be a slickly good-looking blond guy in a Tom Ford suit. He comes across as charm itself, but I can sense the steel underneath, and I’m glad we have him on our side. His female companions for the evening are on the dance floor, which is a relief. I believed Seb when he said he hadn’t slept with Carla, but it’s an uncomfortable situation. I catch a glimpse of her as we walk to the door, watching us as she does some kind of burlesque bump and grind to a Christina Aguilera track. I stare right back at her, hug Seb’s arm tighter around my shoulder, and let my hand drift to his ass.
He laughs as we walk outside. “Marking your territory, sweetheart? Felt like you were going to piss on me for a minute there.” He scans the area, alert to any potential threat.
“If that’s what you’re into…”
We laugh and flirt all the way back to his place, deciding against my apartment because of all the damn cameras. As soon as we arrive, he makes us each a mug of hot chocolate, and we settle down on the couch and talk for hours on end. It is a revelation, the way I enjoy such a simple act. We don’t discuss anything serious or have one of those “relationship” talks—we just chat in the lighthearted way of two people relishing being together.
I yawn as he finishes telling me a story about Samantha sneaking out to a night club when she was only fifteen, and laugh as I say, “Sorry, Seb—you’re not boring me, honest. It’s just been… Well, it’s been a day, hasn’t it?”
“It has. A lot of ups and downs. But I’ve got to say, I’m fucking thrilled with the way it’s ended.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “And has it? Ended?”
“You tell me, sweetheart—you’re the one yawning.” He stands and holds out his hands. After he helps me up, I lean into him, exhausted but as thrilled as he is. He kisses me lightly on the forehead and, without a word, scoops me up into his arms. He cradles me against his chest exactly the way he did that first night we met, back at the cottage. This time, though, everything feels so different. This time, when I look into his eyes, I’m not dreaming—I actually do feel safe.
“Bedtime?” he asks.
Reaching up to stroke his cheek, I nod and smile.
He carries me up the stairs and into his room, and instead of throwing me down so hard I bounce, he lays me carefully on the mattress. The sheets smell of him, and I stretch out, loving the feeling of being in his home. In his bed.
He takes my shoes off and crawls up next to me. “Turn over,” he says gently, and I twist to my side so he can slide down the zipper of my dress and ease it off me. Next come my panties and my bra, and before long, I lie before him completely naked. He pulls back the covers and helps me get under them, his every move and gesture so gentle, so kind, that I feel cherished beyond belief.
He sheds his suit and climbs in next to me. We both turn onto our sides and gaze into each other’s eyes. I can’t quite explain how I feel in this moment. How precious this thing is between us. How perfectly he says everything without saying a word.
I slide my hand along the side of his face, stroking his beard and caressing his cheekbones. He presses his fingers over mine, then holds them up to his mouth to kiss.
“I love you, Lauren. I’m not just falling for you—I’ve already fallen.”
I move closer, needing to feel his big body against mine. “I love you too, Seb. I love you, and I want you. I’m pretty damn scared that I might even need you.”
His eyes blaze, and he pulls me tight, kissing me in a way he’s never kissed me before. It’s gentle, reverent, his lips demanding nothing more than contact. I open my mouth and let my tongue tangle lazily with his, losing myself in the sweetness of it all. We kiss for so long, pouring so much feeling into every touch. From the feel of him pressed against me, it’s obvious that he’s ready—he’s as hard as ever—but this feels different. It feels magical.
He caresses me and strokes me and dusts light kisses on my skin, taking his time and treating me like I’m made of delicate porcelain. I murmur against his skin, delighting in every tender touch. It’s the complete opposite of what happened earlier in the night, but every bit as consuming. When his fingers finally slide between my legs, I’m more than ready. He languidly rubs the pad of his thumb across my swollen bud, his eyes fixed on mine, and I sigh at the feeling. At the connection.
“Seb, I want you inside me. Take me over the edge with you.”
“Always, baby—always.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, and he slips into me, whispering my name as he sinks deeper.
Our rhythm builds, slow and soft and sensual, bodies entwined, breath mingled, eyes locked. When I come, it takes my breath away, sends me tumbling into an unknown land of pleasure that isn’t merely physical. He quickly follows, mumbling words of love as he finds his own release.
He falls down against me, his head on my chest, and I hold him close, tears of happiness stinging the backs of my eyes.
Seb and I have fucked, and we have fought. But that felt like the first time we made love.
I can’t get enough of the wild sex he’s introduced me to, and I’m always going to be up for a chase, a capture, a dark and disturbing trip into the taboo side of my desires. But this was something else. It was, in its own way, even more spectacular.
I stroke his hair, feeling the emotion run through him too. We’ve allowed ourselves to be vulnerable, physically and emotionally, and the orgasm I just had was slower, deeper, than anything I’ve encountered before. A whole-body experience that reached all the way to my heart and soul.
I’m going soft, I realize. One night with Seb, and I’m turning to mush for the man. Maybe this is why I’ve been so scared of sleepovers. I knew, deep down, that Seb was different. I never felt this way about my ex-husband, and I’ve certainly never felt this way about any other man. For all of my surface confidence, I never had enough belief in anyone or anything to fully trust or commit.
Carlos started that process early on, and my experiences with men later in life only served to confirm that I was safer alone. Safe is, I’m starting to suspect, overrated—especially when compared to how I feel right now. At peace. Lying here with my man, enjoying the simple miracle of loving and being loved in return.