Chapter 22
Sebastian
Shoving my glasses off my face, I pinch the bridge of my nose. I can’t get the haunted look on her face yesterday out of my mind. The terror in her eyes as she lost all color in her skin. She never has a reason to fear; I will always protect her.
I almost broke my promise about digging into her past. Her prior identity has been a mystery to me. Within a few strokes of my keyboard, I could find it all. But I swore I’d respect her privacy and not pry into her past. But yesterday made that so damn hard.
It didn’t stop me from reviewing the security footage from the zoo. But the tree is a blind spot, and I couldn’t see anyone. Without knowing what happened in her past, I don’t know who the threat is.
At this crossroads, I decide the best course of action is to keep Lizzy close and to keep an eye on her. No one can get to her through me.
Determined, I pick up my phone and check on her. She’s sitting at her table, working on her puzzle in her pajamas, looking adorable. I hate to interrupt her peace, but I need to see her. I need to see her smile to wash away the memory of her fear.
Dialing her number, I hold my phone to my ear.
“Hey, Bash.” Lizzy’s bright voice lights me up when the call connects, instantly calming my nerves.
“Hey. If you’re not busy, I was wondering if you’d like to come over? I can grill some burgers, and we could watch a movie or something.”
“Umm… You mean like Netflix and chill?” Her voice is drenched in disbelief.
“Fuck. I swear this isn’t a booty call. I just wanted to invite you over.
For dinner and a movie. Dinner by myself can get lonely.
Plus, I’d like to see you.” The words tumble out, one rushed syllable after the next.
Horror drenches me, and if it were possible, I’d die from mortification right on the spot.
She lets out a light laugh. “I’m just messing with you. I know what you meant. Sure, I’d love to come over. I understand the lonely feeling.” Her voice is soft at the end, and I wonder if she’s craved someone’s company as much as I’ve craved hers. If I can give her the companionship she gives me.
“Perfect. Text me when you’re ready, and I’ll come and get you,” I tell her.
She chuckles. “Bash, I’m around the corner. I’ll just walk.”
Absolutely not.
“It’s already dark outside. I’m coming to get you.” I leave no room for argument in my tone. I won’t ever tell her what to do, except where her safety is concerned. Walking in the dark alone is not acceptable. Plus, a gentleman always picks his date up.
“Okay.”
“Good.” I drop the smugness from my voice. “Text me when you’re ready. There’s no rush. I’ll get started on the burgers in the meantime.”
After ending the call, I run downstairs and question everything I know about cooking. I wouldn’t say I’m masterful in the kitchen, but I’m certainly proficient. But what if it’s not enough? After all the delectable baked goods she’s made me, I can’t disappoint her.
Grabbing a mixing bowl, I mix together the ground chicken, black beans, onion, garlic, cumin, and seasonings creating my Southwest burger.
Dicing the fruit, I make a mango salsa for the side.
I make sure to use ingredients I know she prefers, refraining from cilantro because even though I enjoy it, I know she has the gene that makes it taste like soap.
I make sweet potato wedges on the side in substitution of fries and esquites, the street corn dish. Delighted with my setup, I start warming my coals.
Waiting to put the burgers on, I make a lap through my house, putting away anything related to Lizzy. No need to scare her with my loyalty to her.
Right as I finish, she texts me, and I walk out of my driveway. When I stroll up to her, I’m disappointed to see she’s changed out of her pajama set, but the sweatpants and exercise top she has on are just as alluring.
Her shiny hair is thrown in a bun on top of her head which bounces as she approaches. When she’s within arm’s reach, and without thought, I plop my hand on the bun and ruffle it. She lets out a choked sound.
“What are you doing?” She doesn’t seem upset, just surprised, though I’m horrified by my actions.
“I don’t know.” I redden and drop my hand, appalled at my lack of composure.
The discomfort on my end quickly disintegrates with our comfortable conversation as we walk to my place.
She tells me about her day at the zoo and even about lunch with Tom.
I try not to be jealous of the geriatric man who sees her as a granddaughter, but it’s difficult.
Because he gets to see her every day, and he brings out a smile on her face just at the mention of him.
When we get inside, she sniffs the air my heart palpitates. What if she doesn’t like what I’ve made. Instead, she moans, sending shockwaves through me.
“It smells delicious in here. I thought we were having burgers. It doesn’t smell like it though.” She looks at me inquisitively, so I explain they are technically burgers, just not the classic version of them.
“I love esquites. There’s this small bodega in the city that has the best esquites.
It’s so good.” She explains to me, and I listen, pretending I don’t already know about her love for their corn dish.
As if I haven’t followed her into that exact building to order her favorite meal behind her. “We should go one day.”
“That sounds like fun. I’d love to try it.” I carry out my ignorance as I lead her to the patio. I throw the burgers onto the grill.
“Would you like something to drink? I have water, milk, sweet tea, coffee…”
She perks up before I can finish just as I knew she would. “You have sweet tea? No one around here has sweet tea. It’s such a shame.”
“I may have bought some when you told me you were from the south. Maybe it’s stereotyping of me, but I was willing to take the gamble that you’d drink it.” And the hundreds of times I’ve seen this exact brand in her fridge may also have helped throw the bet.
After getting our drinks, which I suppress a grimace as I sip on the saccharine drink, we return to my backyard.
I have cornhole set up, which she perks up at.
We play a game while the burgers heat. I don’t believe in going easy on my opponents, so she lost terribly.
She’s a good sport, laughing as her tosses land feet away from the board.
Only when we serve our plates do I realize my mistake. I made the American classic of burgers and fries into a healthier version of itself. What if she thinks I did it because of her? That I want to put her on a diet? Or what if she thinks I’m a health-nut obsessed with eating clean?
But she just digs in. She groans around her first bite, and I have to discreetly adjust myself under the table.
“This is the best thing I’ve eaten in a while. I had no idea you were such a good cook,” she says around a mouthful.
“If you can read, you can cook, is my take.” I take my first bite and agree with her. This is really good.
She hums her agreement, and we eat in silence. She even gets seconds of my esquites making me feel successful.
Once we finish, I check my watch. “It’s already late and I know you have work tomorrow, so if you want to raincheck the movie, I understand.”
“I can stay. Let’s put something on.” She leads me to the living room as though she belongs in this house. It brings forth countless images of the future I long for.
I grab a blanket for us and sit a respectable distance away from her on the couch.
We land on a historical war film that I’ve seen before.
And as the minutes pass, she migrates closer and closer to me until her thigh presses against mine.
When she rests her head on my shoulder, the contact initiated by her allows me to throw my arm around her and pull her into me.
I can’t concentrate on the movie, not when her warmth seeps into me. Not when her breath tickles my neck, so close to those pillowy lips. And especially not when her hand lands on my thigh, so close to where it definitely shouldn’t be.
“Hey,” she whispers to me.
I turn my head towards her, unsure how I’m going to form coherent sentences with my body so alight, but it’s a futile thought. Because her lips lock onto mine as soon as they’re within range.
The kiss starts sweet. As her lips dance over mine, her arms find their way along my neck. Warmth blossoms through me as she struggles to move closer to me. Unable to resist her heavenly temptation any longer, I pick her up by her waist and gently lay her on the couch.
My deprived body covers her of its own accord; the blanket lost on the ground. Unbeknownst to me, her knees spread for me and when I lean down, my groin connects with her core.
We both moan against the other, and it takes every fiber of my being to remain still. My body urges me to move, but I can’t seek pleasure in her. Not yet.
She doesn’t seem to have the same restraint though. Because as my lips travel down her neck, she rocks her hips against me. I can’t hold back the guttural groan that escapes my throat. She continues rubbing herself, chasing her high.
“Bash, yes. Please.” When she whispers my name as a plea on her lips, I break.
I press her into the couch, pinning her down. My hands find their way under her shirt, skin to skin. When I hesitate at her bra, she encourages me with a tug on my hand.
“My angel,” I moan as the first contact with her breasts has me close to tears of gratitude. Her voluptuous curves fit in my hands perfectly.
When I brush my thumb against her nipple, she shrieks in pleasure. My hand is large enough against her smaller torso that I can play with both peaks at once. She reacts instantly, arching her back.
The feeling of fingers traveling under my shirt, exploring my muscles is too much for me.
I press against her core and hold myself still, fighting against my body even as I feel my sac tighten.
As she squirms against my cock, I can’t stop myself from emptying into my boxer briefs.
I bite her neck to hold in my groan, causing her to scream again.
It’s been six years since I’ve felt a woman’s touch. I’m surprised I lasted this long. Despite being sensitive, my cock doesn’t go down. It remains hard for her.
“Holy shit. You bit me,” she says in a ragged voice.
“I’m sor–”
“Do it again,” she demands.
Not needing to be told twice, I bite her shoulder, then lick the sting away. Even through the haze, I’m aware enough to not leave a mark anywhere noticeable.
When she whips off her top, I pull back so I can take in the beauty before me.
Her pink skin calls to me. Leaning down, I kiss my way along her quickly expanding and contracting chest. Her breaths only encourage me, and when she tugs my head to her pert bud, I suction onto one, drawing as much pleasure as I can.
Not even the sound of cannons firing can pull us from this paradise. Her legs wrap around me, trapping my sensitive cock against her.
Eventually, she pulls me from her heavenly tits, only to meet my mouth. Her tongue duels with mine for dominance, and I let her win, accepting her into my mouth. I wrap an arm under her head and pull her off the couch and into me.
Lost in our connection, when the room descends into darkness, I freeze, reaching back for the gun that isn’t there. Realizing it’s just the movie ending, I reluctantly pull back and help her sit up. Grabbing her top from the floor, I put it back on her, straightening it so it’s in place.
“This wasn’t my intention when I invited you over. I mean, it was… Fuck, I don’t have words. That was… thank you.” I take off my fogged glasses and rub them against my shirt. “I hope you know I just wanted to spend time with you. But that… that was incredible.”
She blushes impossibly further. “Yeah. It was.” Her voice is still husky as she says it.
I reach forward and as my fingers rearrange her bangs into place, she shivers. Jogging into the coat closet, I grab my softest sweatshirt and put it on her. I’m not an enormous man, but with the way my sweatshirt drowns her, she makes it seem so.
This woman makes me feel like a man. Filling me with the animalistic urges to not only protect her but possess her.
“Thank you,” she murmurs as she plays with the edges of the sweatshirt.
“Do you want me to walk you home, or do you want me to drive?” I’m praying she says walk so I can spend more time with her. But it may be better if she chooses the car so I can get out of these sticky boxers sooner.
“Let’s walk.”
I smile despite my discomfort and hold out my arm for her. She intertwines hers in mine, and we walk her home.
When we get to her front door, she beckons for me to lean down, and she presses a chaste kiss to my lips. I refrain from deepening it, enjoying what she’s willing to give me.
“Goodnight, angel. Sleep well,” I murmur as I watch her go inside.
“You too, Bash. Thank you for tonight. The burgers and well…” She blushes as she shuts the door.
Back at home, I stare at my couch, my new favorite piece of furniture. I silently thank it for giving me tonight. Then I shower and take myself in hand to the memory of her touch. Or the feeling of her.
As I get in bed, I prepare new flashcards. These on red paper. Notes of what made her make the most noise when I touched her. What she loved the most.
And I vigorously study them, needing to be an expert in pleasing my Lizzy.