Chapter 17 #2
“Back in Vegas,” I started again. “You said you didn’t really know what you two were anymore, especially with him getting married soon.
But I wasn’t sure if you might decide to go back to him anyway.
You guys were together a long time, Seb, and I was just .
.. I guess I was too afraid to ask, because I didn’t think I could handle hearing you say that’s what you wanted. That he is who you want. That I’m not.”
Pain and regret and something that looked like self-loathing flashed across his face. “Taylor, no. God, no.” He shifted, his grip on my hand tightening. “I should have told you. The second you asked me to come here, I should have said something. I should have clarified what this was for me.”
“I wish you had," I admitted. Then, I wouldn't have felt like this was all in my head. That maybe you were in this with me, too.”
“I am in this.” He leaned forward, his free hand coming up to cup my jaw. “I’m so fucking in this that it terrifies me. Because the last time I let myself love you, I messed up. And I’m scared—so fucking scared—of doing that again.”
I turned my head and pressed a kiss to his palm. “Did you ever stop to think I might feel the same way?”
His laugh was shaky when he said, "We’re idiots.”
“Yeah.” I twisted my fingers in the front of his shirt and pulled him as close as I could, given the console between us. “Such idiots.”
Sebastian’s hand slid from my jaw to thread through my hair, his eyes searching mine for what felt like an eternity. I couldn’t tell you what he was looking for, only that he must have found it, because he gave me a slow smile and moved back into his seat.
“Let’s go home,” I said quietly.
Neither of us spoke much after that. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly, but the air felt thick with everything hadn’t said.
If we were really going to be together, I couldn’t help but worry that our inability to communicate was going to bite us in the ass.
It wouldn’t be the distance or our schedules.
The fact that we each had a bad habit of making assumptions instead of just fucking talking to each other was going to be a problem.
One I wasn’t sure we’d be able to navigate.
By the time I pulled into the driveway, my shoulders were tight with tension.
Sebastian grabbed the leftovers, and I unlocked the front door. He headed straight for the kitchen while I toed off my shoes and hung up my keys. I found him standing at the open fridge, just staring into it.
Eventually, he closed the door and turned to face me, a few feet of tile between us that might as well have been miles.
I knew he felt it too.
“I’m gonna head up to bed,” I said finally, exhaustion creeping into my bones.
Sebastian looked down at his hands, then back up at me. “Do you want me to sleep in one of the guest rooms?”
The careful, tentative way he asked it—like he was already bracing for rejection—made something crack open inside me. In two strides, he was in my arms, my face pressed into his neck. “I never want you sleeping anywhere but next to me.”
Sebastian’s arms circled my waist, his grip almost desperate. “Okay,” he whispered against my shoulder.
I pulled back, taking his hand in mine.
At the top of the stairs, I led him down the hallway to my bedroom—our bedroom, I realized. Because that’s what it had become. Our shared space.
We were going to have problems. There was so much we still needed to figure out.
So many conversations we’d need to have and compromises we’d have to make.
But standing here with him now, I knew with absolute certainty that I wanted all of it.
The messy parts, the beautiful parts, and everything in between.
“Make love to me,” I said, my voice quiet but steady.
Sebastian’s hands came up to frame my face, his thumbs brushing along my cheekbones. Then he kissed me.
We undressed each other slowly, like we had all the time in the world. Like we had a long future stretching out in front of us.
My shirt hit the floor, then his. My belt. His pants. When we were both finally naked, Sebastian walked me backward until my legs hit the bed. I sat, and he followed me down, covering my body with his.
We kissed for what felt like hours—long, languid kisses that made my head spin.
His hands mapped every inch of my body like he was memorizing the topography of my skin.
Mine did the same over the planes of his back, the curve of his spine, the jut of his hip.
He shivered when I scraped my nails over his skin.
Sebastian kissed his way down my body—over my jaw, down my throat, and across my chest. He paused to lap at my nipple, and I arched into him with a gasp.
He hummed against my skin and moved lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses to my ribs and along my stomach. The mattress shifted as he settled himself between my legs.
I couldn’t look away as he wrapped his hand around the base of my cock and lowered his mouth, enveloping me in wet heat.
My head fell back against the pillows, one hand fisting in the sheets while the other rested against the back of his head as Sebastian reduced me to a trembling, incoherent mess, pleasure building with every pull of his mouth.
I was close—too close.
“Seb. Sebastian, wait.” I tugged on his hair.
He pulled off with a wet pop, glancing up at me with dark, lust-blown eyes and swollen lips.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” I sat up, pulling him with me and claiming his mouth before saying, “I don’t want to come yet. Not like this.” My heart hammered with nerves. “Fuck me, please.”
His breath hissed out of him. “Are you sure?”
“I want you inside me. I want … I want to be as close to you as I can get.”
His eyes searched mine for a long moment, then he nodded and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Lie back.” He leaned over, reaching into the drawer of the nightstand to pull out a bottle of lube. “If anything doesn’t feel good, you tell me. Okay?”
“Okay,” I agreed, lowering myself onto my back, bending my knees, and letting my legs fall open. The position made me feel exposed and vulnerable, but not scared.
Sebastian’s gaze tracked over me, his eyes dark with desire. “You’re so fucking hot,” he murmured, his slick fingers trailing past my taint. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”
The first touch of his finger against my asshole made me tense up.
“Breathe,” he instructed, his free hand rubbing soothing circles on my thigh.
I pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing my muscles to unclench. Sebastian pressed in, the sensation strange but not unpleasant.
“How’s that?”
“Weird but good.”
He smiled, that soft private smile that felt like it was reserved only for me.
“It gets better. I promise.” He started moving then, sliding slowly in and out, setting a gentle rhythm that had me relaxing further.
Eventually, he added more lube and a second finger.
The stretch was more noticeable this time, toeing the line between pleasure and pain.
I hissed, and Sebastian immediately stilled.
“Gimme a second.”
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the inside of my knee, then my thigh, working his way closer to where his fingers were buried inside me. The distraction helped, and I felt myself loosening for him.
“Okay. I’m good.”
Sebastian started that slow, maddening rhythm again, scissoring his fingers gently to stretch me open. Then he crooked them, pressing against that spot inside of me that made me yelp and my back arch off the bed.
“Fuck!”
“There it is,” he chuckled, coasting over my prostate again and again, until I was panting and my cock was a leaking mess.
“Jesus, Seb.”
“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, adding a third finger.
The stretch was intense, bordering on too much, but Sebastian kept working me open with patient determination. His fingers twisted and spread, moving in and out, until I was writhing against the sheets.
“I’m ready. I need—”
“Not yet.”
He spent what felt like an eternity prepping me, until I was loose and slick and practically sobbing. My cock was flushed and rock hard, and every time his fingers brushed against my prostate, I thought I might come.
“Seb. Sebastian, please. I need you inside me.”
He pulled his fingers out carefully and reached for the condom on the nightstand, tearing the packet open with his teeth and rolling it on. He slicked himself up with lube, his hand shuttling over himself in slow, hypnotizing strokes.
I started to turn onto my stomach to get on my hands and knees, but Sebastian’s hand on my hip stopped me.
“No. I want you like this.” He moved between my legs again, settling into the cradle of my hips. “I want to watch you come on my cock for the first time.”
A spike of anxiety shot through me. Face-to-face meant he’d see every flicker of pain or fear. Every emotion I couldn’t mask. There’d be nowhere to hide, no way to protect myself if I couldn’t handle this.
“Please. I need to see you, Tay,” he begged.
I met his eyes and saw tenderness, hunger, and protectiveness all at once, and the fear loosened its grip. This was Sebastian. He wouldn’t hurt me. Not if he could help it.
“Okay.”
He lined himself up, and even though I was loose from his fingers, this felt different. The pressure as he pushed forward was intense.
I tried to take him, but my body instinctively tensed against the intrusion, my mind telling me that I wouldn’t be able to. That this was going to hurt. That I couldn’t scream
“Hey.” Sebastian dropped his weight onto his forearm, bringing his face close. He nuzzled his nose against mine in a gesture so tender it almost made me want to cry. “We can stop.”
I shook my head.
If it hurt, it hurt. I’d deal with it. I was a hockey player. I knew pain. Knew how to push through it to get to the reward on the other side.
And Sebastian was my greatest fucking reward.