Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SASHA
I wake up sweating, boiling with body heat from the great big furnace of a man spooned against my spine.
Sebastian must’ve fallen asleep cupping my breast, but there’s nothing innocent or slumberous about the gesture. It’s possessive and claiming and has me clenching my thighs.
I let out a silent laugh, breathy with disbelief.
I had sex with Sebastian King!
Flashes of the night before play out like snapshots on a camera roll. The passion behind his kiss. The forceful way he fisted my hair until the roots pinched, wrenching my head back to lick a hot stripe up my neck. His fierce near-bruising grip as he pounded inside me from behind. The burning intensity of his gaze as he licked my clit, denying me pleasure if I dared to look away…
I stifle a groan and try to decide what to do next. I have no idea what last night means, as amazing as it was and how incredible Sebastian made me feel… A one-off we forget ever happened? The start of something real?
Do I even want it to be?
Yes , a little voice whispers. Yes I do .
No.
I force that back down. I need space to think about this properly, and I can’t do that here, not with Sebastian drowning me in his warmth and woodsy scent. He’s too intoxicating, too mind-muzzling, too much of everything. The longer I stay, the harder it will be to leave.
Clasping his wrist, I carefully lift him away from my breast. He makes a breathy sound of discontent but doesn’t wake, so I take my chance and roll out of bed.
The room is a chaos of clothing, a map of Sebastian’s haste to tear everything off me. My jumper is a wrinkly ball on one side of the room, my jeans turned inside out on the other. One of my boots landed on the window seat and another by the wardrobe, but there are zero signs of my socks or underwear anywhere.
I catch a laugh with my fingertips, trying to picture what Sebastian would see if he woke to me ass-naked searching frantically for my knickers.
In the fresh light of day, would he still like what he sees?
Ignoring that dumb thought, I drop to my knees and reach under the bed, pat around in the dim light but come up empty.
“Fuck,” I mouth, and my whole body tenses as Sebastian rolls onto his back.
I’m not ready yet.
I don’t know what to say.
One arm flops out onto the empty space beside him. He shifts again, a rustle of legs beneath the sheets, and I hold still. His chest expands, the movement uncovering the crease where his thick torso meets thick thighs, and the coarse dark hair trailing down from his belly button to his cock.
It’s a glorious sight, but one I don’t have time for.
After some effort to tug on my jeans, I dress quickly, taking a second to smooth my frizzy, slightly matted curls—a lost cause somewhere between rough cotton pillowcases and three rounds of Sebastian fucking the sense right out of me.
A cause I didn’t mind losing, let’s be fair.
On the way to the door I spot my bra hanging on the back of the floor lamp in the corner. Grinning, I unhook it from the shade and give Sebastian one last lingering look before leaving.
I’ll text him later.
Or maybe tomorrow.
Possibly next week.
The air is brittle cold and bathed in the eerie morning quiet, except for the odd creak so common in an ancient manor house, and I take that as a go-ahead to creep down the stairs and make my escape.
Halfway to the front door, Charlotte walks out of the kitchen. She glances up from her phone, eyes widening at the sight of me. We freeze, caught in a surprised stare-off, neither of us sure what to say or who’s going to speak first.
It should be me. I’m the adult here, but I’ve never been in this situation before and I’m very aware I’m not wearing any underwear despite being clothed. It feels wrong, indecent somehow.
Besides, what do you even say to a thirteen-year-old who caught you sneaking out the morning after you had sex with her dad?
What must she think of me?
The thought of losing Charlotte’s respect makes my stomach drop.
“Um…” I shove my bra behind my back even though that ship has sailed. There’s no mistaking the size of my bra. I might as well be waving a white lacy flag of surrender. “Hey.”
Hey?
Seriously?
“Hi.”
“You’re, uh, you’re up early,” I say. “I like your pyjamas.”
There’s a dawning realisation behind Charlotte’s smile, but the genuine sweetness of it eases the tension from my spine.
She doesn’t hate me.
My shoulders slacken.
That’s something at least.
“Thanks!” She pinches at her top. “Granny hates these ones though. She’s not a fan of leopard print. Says it’s unbecoming, whatever that means.”
“Well, I love it.”
“I know. You always look so cool wearing it.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
I duck my chin, genuinely touched. There’s nothing greater than a compliment from a teenager. It’s a rarity so you know they mean it.
“Are you staying for breakfast?” she asks then.
“Yeah, Sasha,” Sebastian joins in, sending my pulse skittering into oblivion as he hurries breathless and barefoot down the stairs. He’s halfway through sliding on a navy knit jumper and clearly rushed to get dressed, but I don’t want to think of the reason right now.
“Are you staying for breakfast?” He bounces off the bottom step like there are springs in his soles, gives his daughter a squeeze and drops a kiss to her forehead. “Morning.”
Charlotte rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile tinkering on her lips as she sinks into his embrace before pushing him away, like there’s only so much affection she can take before 9 a.m. “Morning, Dad.”
Then, to my surprise, Sebastian steps close to me, stealing all my air and personal space, and clasps my elbow. It’s a nothing caress really, but my heart flip-flops all the same.
He holds my gaze with the same fervour as when he ate me out, then kisses my cheek, murmuring, “Hmm?” against my skin to prompt an answer.
What was the question again?
I’m untethered somehow. Discombobulated.
I’ve felt this man inside me, more than once. Three times actually. I know the talent of his fingers now, the size of his cock, and the magic swipe of his tongue, yet the whisper of his breath and the buzz of his voice still gruff with sleep has me shivering like a schoolgirl with her first ever crush. My cheeks burn for some reason, and a heady throb begins between my thighs, not helped by the seam of my jeans against my bare flesh. It wouldn’t take much pressure and?—
“I’m not usually a breakfast person so…”
“Today you are,” Charlotte insists, her tone leaving no room for discussion.
I glance at Sebastian, hopeful he’ll offer me some kind of excuse-slash-exit strategy. He must know how awkward this is. He must want to avoid this awkwardness too. But there’s only amusement glittering in his gaze as he grins and shrugs, and not even my wide-eyed silent insistence makes him budge.
Bastard!
“Well, I guess I better go put this on.” I wave my bra around because I haven’t embarrassed myself enough this morning. “If I’m staying for breakfast, that is.”
Sebastian bites his bottom lip, trying not to smile. He stares at my breasts clearly not sitting as high as they would be usually.
My nipples tighten in remembrance of his mouth there, how he licked and sucked until I was red and shuddering, and Sebastian inhales at the obscene way they poke through the knit of my jumper.
“A shame,” he says roughly, “but perhaps for the best right now.”
“Daaaaaad,” Charlotte whines. “Gross.”
“Go set the table, Charlie. Please.”
A petulant-sounding sigh echoes in the emptiness.
“Fine.” She stomps back to the kitchen then calls out, “And it’s Charlotte!”
I sigh in relief once we’re alone. This is my chance. “Right, I’ll make a run for it. Tell Charlotte I had some kind of emergency, like I got dust in my eye or something.”
He catches my wrist. “No.”
“No?”
“That’s what I said. You’re not running from this.”
“But—”
“No buts, Sasha. I just spent the night inside you. So, you’re gonna go to the downstairs bathroom and put your bra on because your tits are far too distracting like that. Maybe tidy your hair a bit, because you look well and truly fucked and the reminder is making my dick hard. Then you’re gonna sit that fine ass at the kitchen table and eat the bacon and eggs I’m gonna cook for you.”
Oh.
My stomach somersaults.
I blink at him, unsure what to process first.
“Would you like some toast while I’m at it?” he asks.
Toast?
He expects me to think about fucking toast right now?
This man is impossible.
But okay. I’ll play his game, whatever it is, whatever his intention.
“Yes, actually. I’ll have two slices. One for the bacon and one for the egg. And I like my eggs runny so I can use them as a dipping sauce for my toast.”
Sebastian grins slowly and brushes a kiss to my knuckles. “That’s how I like it too. We’re very compatible. Have you noticed?”
“No,” I lie, snatching my hand away. “I can’t say that I have.”
I march off down the hall, all too aware of his kiss blistering my skin and the sound of Sebastian’s delighted laughter nipping at my heels.
After I freshen up and give my reflection a good pep talk in the bathroom mirror, I head back to the kitchen.
With the radio playing, it’s a hive of noise and activity. Charlotte drops bread into a fancy four-slice Dualit toaster while Sebastian cracks eggs into a pan. The room fills with the salivating scent of fried bacon and the occasional sound of hot fat spitting on the stove. It’s a snapshot of a regular everyday moment, mundane to most, but the scene makes my heart skip then swell with a deep kind of longing.
I hover in the doorway watching them, though I’m not entirely sure why.
“Do you think Sasha will come see Taylor Swift with me next year?”
I straighten at that.
Charlotte likes me that much?
“I think so, but you’d have to ask her. What do you say, Sash?” Sebastian throws a tea towel over his shoulder along with a cheeky smile. “Would you go see Taylor Swift?”
“How did you know I was here?” I huff.
“I can always tell where you are. It’s your scent, I think. Your perfume.”
Charlotte snorts. “Okay, Edward Cullen.”
“Who the hell is that?”
I splutter a laugh.
“Why’s that funny?” he adds.
“No reason.” I can’t stop grinning as I slide onto one of the island stools for my front-row seat to all this father—daughter synergy. “And to answer your question, I’d love to go see Taylor with you. If you ever need a concert buddy, I’m your gal.”
Charlotte lights up and rushes over to give me a hug. “Awesome! Thanks, Sash. Can I call you Sash?”
“Oh, sure.”
“We’ll make friendship bracelets! Oh, and we need fun outfits. Sparkles and glitter and everything! This is gonna be so great. Alexa, play ‘Shake it Off’!”
She’s a whirlwind of energy this morning and I almost can’t keep up.
“I can’t wait,” I tell her.
Sebastian watches us fondly, then, “Seriously. Who is Edward Cullen?”
It’s hard not to laugh at him when he says things like that. “A vampire.”
“Oh. I thought you were talking about a real person.”
“I wish!” Charlotte says.
“Really? I was more of a Jacob fan myself.”
She gasps, horrified. “I don’t think we can be friends anymore, Sash.”
“I don’t see why not. We can have different opinions about these kinds of things. Music and TV shows, etcetera. That’s what makes life interesting.”
“Hmm. I guess. But Jacob? Really?”
“Actually, no. I lied. I was a Charlie Swan girly.”
“Ewwwww! No way.”
I laugh. “You’ll see the appeal when you’re older. Trust me. I remember Lord of the Rings came out when I was thirteen and I didn’t get the hype with Aragorn, but now I do. Big time.”
“That’s your type?” Sebastian wonders. “The long hair and the beard?”
And you , I want to say. You’re also my type.
“Sometimes.”
He frowns, absentmindedly running his fingers through his hair and playing with the curly ends.
“I prefer Legolas,” Charlotte murmurs.
“When I was your age, so did I.” I prop my chin on one fist and try not to smile.
Breakfast passes in a haze of good food, laughter and Taylor Swift. After wrangling a promise to have a Christmas movie marathon sometime soon, Charlotte disappears upstairs to WhatsApp her friends and make plans to go sledging at Crickley Hill.
“Alexa, stop,” Sebastian says.
In the silence there’s nothing to do but stare at each other, the space between us filled with dirty plates and half-empty cups of tea and our new-found awareness of… so we fucked last night .
I still don’t know what to say about that.
“Right.” I tear my gaze away and clear my throat. “I best be off.”
“Must you?”
“I need to shower and change before I open the shop.”
“Well, if you hadn’t run away we could’ve showered together.”
“There’s nothing sexy about showering together.”
“I completely disagree. Clearly you haven’t showered with the right person.”
Oh my god.
He really needs to stop eye fucking me and saying things like that.
“Also, I didn’t run,” I scoff.
“No?”
“No. First I rolled out of bed, and then I crept quietly down the stairs. No running anywhere.”
Sebastian chuckles. “So you snuck out like a thief in the night.”
“I mean, it’s morning so…”
“Smart ass.”
“And if anyone’s a thief, it’s you. I couldn’t find my underwear. Or my socks. I liked those socks. They have doughnuts on them.”
Sebastian’s gaze turns hot, hungry, and it’s nothing to do with food. “You mean to tell me you’re naked under those jeans?”
“Y-yes.”
“Fuck,” he grits out, slamming his fist on the tabletop. “Show me.”
Holy shit. “Sebastian.”
“Fucking show me, Sasha. I need to see it.”
Arousal thrums beneath my skin and floods between my thighs. It’s crazy but I actually consider it, like it’s a normal thing to peel down my jeans in broad daylight and show this man my naked pussy.
“I—”
I don’t know whether I’m grateful or annoyed that we’re disturbed by the thud of Edith’s walking stick along the corridor.
“You have the worst timing, Gran,” Sebastian grumbles.
Edith pauses in the doorway, takes one look at me and smiles. “Oh. That’s what that noise was last night. Good morning, Sasha. Sebastian.”
“Oh my god,” I mouth, shielding my face.
I shouldn’t feel embarrassed. We’re supposed to be dating, and with dating comes sex, but the stretch of his cock wasn’t fake at all, and these are very real feelings sprouting inside me, heating my cheeks and ears.
“Sorry about that,” I say, because what else is there?
“Oh no, dearest. Don’t you apologise. I’m glad to know my grandson is satisfying you. Well done, dear.”
“Gran.”
“Right. Well.” I slap the table top. “I’m gonna leave you both to it.”
“Not on my account, I hope.”
“Of course not. But you know how it is. Busiest time of year and all that.”
“You really need to get some more staff, darling,” Edith tells me. “You’ll run yourself ragged if you’re not careful.”
“I would if I could afford it,” I say without meaning to, and Sebastian’s face drops.
“What?”
The chair scrapes across the stone floor in my rush to rise. “Never mind.”
“Sasha…”
“I’ll see you both later. Or soon. Or whenever. Thanks for a lovely breakfast. Bye.” I give them a wave and race out of the room.
I’m halfway to the front door again when I have to detour to grab my handbag from the living room, so it’s no surprise that Sebastian’s waiting for me. He leans against the wall, the muscles in his folded arms bulging and far too distracting, and stares at me silently.
“You didn’t bring a coat again, did you?” His tone tells me he’s mad about that.
“I came from my house to my car to your house. It didn’t seem necessary.”
“It’s always necessary in the winter. What if you’d had an accident and skidded off the road and into a ditch? I know damn well you don’t have a blanket or supplies in your car. You’d freeze to death before I could find you.”
“You’d be the one to find me?”
“Of course I fucking would. I’ll always come for you. You can count on that.”
My heart soars. “Oh.”
“You wait right here. No leaving yet, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” I say with a grin, giving him a salute.
Sebastian shakes his head, then stomps down the corridor to the cloakroom, reappearing a moment later with his navy quilted coat. He holds it open and pointedly lifts his brow until I concede and slide my arms through the sleeves. I grin at the déjà vu of it all while he refolds the cuffs and wrestles with the front zip, his brow wrinkled with concentration.
I can zip up my own coat. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that, but there’s something unexpectedly appealing about being manhandled in this way. I feel girlish and giddy suddenly. It’s ridiculous. I’m a grown woman.
“Listen, Sebastian?—”
“Don’t do it,” he says, working on the buttons now.
“What?”
“Don’t let me down gently or whatever you’re about to say. I don’t want to hear it.”
“I wasn’t planning on that.”
He brushes my hair back and tugs up the collar so it covers my neck fully, and finally meets my gaze again. “No?”
“No. At least, I don’t think so. I don’t want to. I mean, I’m?—”
“Sasha.” He palms my shoulders, settling my awkward ramble. “It’s okay if we don’t have this all figured out yet.”
“I know.”
“But I’d like to do this again, although next time I’d like to wake up with you in my arms instead of in an empty bed, but I can forgive you just this once.”
I huff out a laugh at that. “How gracious of you.”
He grins, then slides one hand down my arm to tangle our fingers together, and we both take a moment to stare at the gentle play of our joined hands.
Something flutters inside me.
Butterflies.
Thirty-six years old and I have butterflies.
“Last night wasn’t supposed to happen though,” I tell him.
“Things change. Feelings change.”
My pulse booms in my ears. “You have feelings?”
Sebastian nods, gaze intense against mine. “One or two.”
“I see.”
“What about you? Do you have some feelings?”
I want to tell him yes. That somehow, inexplicably, I’ve gone from wanting to punch him in his gorgeous face to wanting to kiss it too, perhaps even more so. From barely giving him a second thought unless he was standing in front of me, I think about him constantly, even when he’s miles away or in another room.
I want him to make me come, but hold me close afterward, whisper sweet words in my ear and tell me I’m not alone. I want more silly chats over breakfast and to be safe in the knowledge that there’s always a coat waiting for me if I’m cold. But I don’t know how to tell him that. I don’t know how to ask him that either. I’m not good at asking for things and I don’t think I ever will be.
But he’s being so open and honest with me, and that always deserves the same in kind.
“I… Maybe.”
His smile saturates with sheer delight, the kind that lights up rooms.
“I’ll take a maybe. I can work with that.”
Maybe I can too.