SIXTEEN Sebastian
“All done.” I stretch my back and drop the last pieces of half-eaten pizza crusts in the trash bag I’m holding. “Our friends are messy.”
“Thanks for your help. That would’ve taken much longer if I had to do it by myself.” Quincy walks out of the kitchen, her hands on her hips. “Are you mad at me?”
“I’m not mad at you.”
“Then why are you stomping around my house?”
“I’m not stomping. Some would call that walking with purpose.”
“My hardwood floors would say otherwise.”
“I’m not mad, I’m just …” I run a hand through my hair, frustrated. Worked up and sparking with adrenaline in a way I can’t explain. “I was worried about you.”
“When? Was it when Mia added those red pepper flakes to my pizza? I thought—”
“No.” I unplug the vacuum and move it out of the way.
I walk toward her, paying close attention to her every move.
Her feet shuffle across the rug. Her shoulders press into the wall behind her.
I don’t stop until I’m in front of her, and when I am, I put my hand next to her head, almost caging her in.
“You could’ve gotten hurt when you went outside.
” My heart is somewhere between my stomach and my throat.
My self-restraint is hanging on by a thread. “Again.”
“In the light rain shower we were experiencing?” Quincy lifts her chin, defiance in her gaze. She’s so goddamn beautiful. “This compassion is nice, but I’m confused. Why do you suddenly care about my well-being?”
“You want to know why I care about your well-being?” I put my other palm on the wall.
Her breath hitches. “Because from the minute I got back to town, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.
You drive me out of my fucking mind.” I touch her cheek, waiting for her to yell at me.
When she doesn’t, I think this might be a dream.
Something I’ll only have for a few seconds, and I don’t want to waste it. “And I wish you would stop.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re doing everything.”
“Then why are you still here?” Quincy whispers, her hands on my chest. The shove I expect never comes. Instead, fingers curl in the cotton of my shirt until she has a fistful of the fabric in her grip. She pulls me closer, our lips inches apart. “Why didn’t you leave with everyone else, Sebastian?”
“Because you don’t want me to leave.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Prove it. Say the words, and I’ll go.”
Time stands still, and I wait.
She’s going to pull away. She has to pull away, or I don’t know what I’m going to do.
Kiss her?
Carry her to the couch and show her how much I fucking care?
Quincy licks her lips. She lifts her hand. Her palm shakes before she places it on the back of my neck, and I almost groan. My entire body shudders at the press of her fingers. At the slow drag of her nails at the top of my spine. One touch, and I’m fucking addicted.
“I lied. I don’t want you to leave,” she whispers. “I …” The syllable cracks. She dips her head, trying to hide, and I hook my fingers around her chin.
“Look at me, Quincy, and tell me what you want.”
Her long eyelashes flutter closed. I’ve never wanted something as badly as I want her, and the silence is agonizing.
“I want you, Sebastian,” she finally says, eyes blinking open, and they’ll go down as the four most dangerous words of my entire fucking life.
“Are you sure?” I trace the curve of her jaw. Gently, patiently while need pulses in my blood. “Tell me you’re sure.”
“I don’t know why, but I’m sure that I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”
I drop my hand to her hip, tugging her flush against me until we’re perfectly aligned. “No tricks.” I kiss the corner of her mouth. She melts into me when I drag my knuckles over the sliver of exposed skin I find below the hem of her shirt. “No games.”
“One time,” she tells me, adding her own set of rules. “Just one time, so I can get rid of this … this pull I’m feeling toward you. I hate it. I hate it so much. I want it to go away.”
“Do you think one time is going to fix that?” I put my palms on her ass, lifting her off the ground. Her legs circle my waist, heels pressing into the small of my back. “When I’m finished with you, you’re going to be begging for more.”
“In your dreams.”
“I have a lot of dreams. More as of late, and you should hear the things I do to you in them. The places I fuck you. The places I touch you.” I bend my neck, mouth almost on hers. “Be honest, Quincy. If you didn’t like me, you wouldn’t be practically moaning my name.”
“I hate you.”
“Tell me how much. You have to know it turns me on.” I run a hand up her leg. I kiss her throat, sucking on the skin below her ear. I whisper a laugh when she whines and squirms in my hold. “You don’t hate me at all.”
“You said no games, but this is a game.” Quincy runs her fingers through my hair. Grabs some of the longer strands and gives them a tug that makes me hiss. “Are we playing or not, Sebastian?”
“Oh, we’re playing, Quinny baby.”
“Yeah?” Another defiant glance. A coy smile that tells me I was stupid to think I was in control. “Then I dare you to kiss me.”
“For the record, I would’ve kissed you without the dare.” My nose bumps hers. I count all the freckles on her face—fourteen. Fourteen maddening little marks. “But fuck it. This is more fun.”
I crash my mouth against hers, slipping a hand behind her head and pressing her into the wall. Her nails dig into my shoulders. Her legs tighten around me like she’s afraid I’m going to walk away, but I’m just getting started.
“Just so you know, I’d hate you less if you took off your clothes.”
“Bossy.”
“I can be, if that’s what you like,” she says.
I pull her away from the wall, keeping her in my hold. I can’t stop looking at her; at her flushed cheeks. At her hair, tousled and wild. She’s the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen, and my heart skips a goddamn beat.
“Should we test your hating theory?” I walk us down the hall and kick open the door to her bedroom, remembering the way from the last time I was here, and set her on the bed.
Before she has a chance to get comfortable, I tug on her legs, dragging her to the edge of the mattress.
A pillow goes flying. The comforter gets tangled around her ankles, and I toss it into a far-off corner. “I wonder how wet you are.”
“Get on your knees and find out.”
“With pleasure, sweetheart, but I need to do something first.”
“You do?” She frowns. Irritation pulls at the corner of her mouth, and I touch the droop of her lips with my thumb. “And what’s that?”
“I can’t do this while we’re being watched.” I reach past her, finding the stuffed dinosaur on the opposite side of the bed. I turn him face down and give his head a pat. “There. Now Reginald won’t be traumatized.”
“It’s a sentient object, Sebastian.”
“You’ve clearly never seen Toy Story. I’m not taking any chances. Now.” I drop to the rug, my hands on her knees and nudging her legs wide open. “Where were we?”
“There.” Quincy moans, a throaty, sexy noise that speeds out of her when I press my thumbs into the soft skin of thighs. “We were right there.”
“Can I—” I swallow. I take a deep breath and adjust my hard cock pressing against the zipper of my jeans.
Her shorts—those infuriating shorts that have had me staring at her all night—are almost bunched at her waist, and I can see the line of her underwear underneath the denim.
They look light blue, the exact shade of the sky on a cloudless summer day, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go outside without getting hard again. “Please?”
“Yes.” A soft laugh. The bump of her knee against my palm. Legs opening wider and her hand on her shorts, pulling the zipper down in a torturous drag that makes me want to scream at her to hurry up, but also to slow down so I can savor every second of this. “I’d like that.”
I’m already struggling. I’m walking a tightrope and fighting for my life. Disaster is imminent when she guides my fingers and helps me unfasten the single silver button that’s holding my sanity together.
She must be trying to kill me when she lifts her hips.
I’m certain of it when she works the shorts down her thighs, leaving behind the underwear that has an obnoxiously cute bow.
I touch the waistband, snapping it against her skin, the noise a reminder that this striptease has been one-sided.
An entirely unfair power imbalance I fix by reaching for the hem of my shirt.
By pulling it over my head and leaving it fuck knows where.
“Oh,” she murmurs, wide eyes raking over the muscles I spend hours building in the gym.
She pays careful attention to each part of my torso: My broad shoulders.
My biceps and abs. I flex—just a little—to show her how strong I really am.
Her assessment is greedy, full of self-indulgence that makes my cock ache. “Wow.”
The word alone rattles me.
Heaven help me when she actually touches me.
“Come here.” I help her sit up. I cup her face with both hands and kiss her again. My tongue brushes against hers, and she surprises me with sharp teeth that sink into my bottom lip. My fingers tangle in her hair, struggling to focus when her nails drag down my back. “What do you like, Quincy?”
“I don’t know.” Her palms are hot on my skin.
Roaming, teasing. My complete undoing. “It’s been months …
years, actually, since I—” A beat of embarrassed silence.
Reluctant acceptance and understanding I’m not going to make fun of her for whatever she’s about to say.
“And most of the men I’ve been with haven’t been able to make me—”
“Come?”
“I have to finish on my own.”
“We’re scientists. We research to determine results. We’ll figure it out.”
“And if we don’t?”
“We’ll try again. I’m a very patient man.”
“I don’t have any condoms.”
“I don’t need to fuck you to make you come.” I sit back on my heels. “Take off your shirt. I want to see you.”