Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Some people say women of a certain age shouldn’t wear a crown of femurs made from her vanquished enemies,
but really a woman of any age should wear whatever makes her feel confident.
—From Remy’s Sinister Affirmations
Remy
The dress was like nothing she’d ever worn before.
Or seen before. It was a midnight blue shantung silk midi dress—a term she’d learned from Jared.
An asymmetrical, off-the-shoulder neckline draped across her, leaving her right shoulder bare.
Subtle ruching at one side created a flattering, body-conforming silhouette, and a thin tie at the back added a nice touch.
And her legs had felt endless in the strappy nude heels she’d slipped on.
She’d nearly gagged at the Prada name on the instep.
Remy never wore heels, and prayed to any God that would listen to keep her from falling and embarrassing herself and Sebastian.
Thankfully, she’d managed to successfully perform the Olympic feat of high-heel walking all evening.
Remy was grateful that, during their mind-blowingly amazing meal, she was able to subtly slide the shoes partway off—just to give her toes a chance to wiggle.
Work clogs or sneakers were her usual footwear, so her feet were screaming by the end of the night.
Once they left the elevator that had whisked them to the penthouse suite, Remy immediately removed the instruments of cruelty.
“Torture devices,” she breathed, exhaling a long sigh of relief when her toes touched the sumptuous hall carpet. She ignored the thought of her bare feet on a germy floor. This was a pick-your-poison moment, and she knew what poison she would not be picking.
Next to her, Sebastian cocked a grin, reaching for her shoes and dangling them from his long, alluring fingers. “Does my queen need a foot massage?”
All night at dinner, Remy had been distracted by Sebastian’s fingers. Long, with a pleasing thickness—not fat at all, but not too thin. Manly. Capable. Her traitorous body had stunned her, core clenching as she watched him absently spin his wineglass. Now he was offering to rub her feet.
While those barking appendages cried out in approval of his offer, it wasn’t her feet begging to be rubbed. The apex between her legs ached for the feel of his fingers against her. Inside her.
She’d never considered herself an overly sexual being.
All the angry, loud, dysfunctional sex her parents had had over the years likely damaged her libido.
And sex with Doug was often a form of his emotional manipulation—joining his body with hers to force a connection after one of his rages had concluded with inevitable flowery apologies.
But since Sebastian had barreled into her life, turning it upside down and into something barely recognizable, Remy had been, well…
horny. So damn horny. In fact, she’d gotten herself off several times while he’d been away recording his voiceover—something she hadn’t needed or wanted to do regularly in years.
She’d even sneaked one self-induced climax in the shower early that very morning while Sebastian got ready in the other room.
And now all she wanted was this glorious, funny, alluring man rising over her. Thrusting into her. Filling her. Making her scream in ecstasy—which she’d never done before, but somehow knew deep in her bones would be the outcome of sex with Sebastian.
“Earth to Arabella?”
The teasing question knocked her out of fantasy land. Remy’s eyes flew up to Sebastian’s, and she realized they were standing outside their suite.
“Everything ok, my queen?” Sebastian raised a questioning brow, but the smirk on his face had Remy worrying her amorous ruminations were showing on her face.
Remy cleared her throat. “Fine. Good. Great.”
“Fine, good, and great? Well, that’s a start. How about we make it amazing by getting out of these fancy duds and into something comfortable. And you can have that massage.”
I want everything massaged by you. From the inside out.
Remy choked audibly, shocked at her brazen thoughts.
“You sure you’re ok?” Concern had a small frown creasing his unfairly beautiful face. Remy battled the temptation to smooth it away.
“Yep,” she squeaked.
After an assessing gaze that managed to light her up further, Sebastian waved the room card over the display, unlocking the door.
“Home again,” Sebastian sighed. “Now it’s time to relax.”
He dropped her shoes on a chair, making Remy cringe at both the sloppy placement and the casual treatment of shoes that probably cost more than her monthly mortgage.
Catching the motion, he grinned. “I’ll move them to a proper place later, my neat queen.” Sebastian motioned to her dress. “Do you need help with the zipper? While we were getting ready earlier, I heard you grousing at it in the bathroom like it was one of your wayward residents.”
Indeed she had struggled with it, finally contorting herself sufficiently to finish the job. But she hadn’t realized her frustrations had been audible. Worse, she’d strained a muscle in her upper arm.
Say you’re getting old without saying you’re getting old. ‘Oh, I pulled a muscle getting dressed.’ Remy sighed, wondering once again why he’d picked her for his fake marriage when he had his pick of young, nubile, drop-dead gorgeous women.
“I, uh,” Remy’s cheeks flushed, frustrated that she could barely form a sentence. “Thanks. Yes. I’d appreciate it.” She turned, giving him her back.
The room was silent, and for long, torturous moments, Bash didn’t move.
Remy’s breath was almost stalling in her chest. Eventually, she sensed rather than heard him step closer, a faint hint of his spicy aftershave magically turning her nipples into hard buds under her dress, which had such sufficient built-in structure, she hadn’t needed a bra.
He fingered the delicate ties at the back of her waist. “I like these naughty little strings hanging down.” Sebastian’s voice was low and gravely, and Remy’s breasts ached for his touch.
“Th-thank you for the dress, Sebastian. I’ve never worn anything so stunning before.”
He eased the zipper down, one agonizing snick at a time. “A stunning dress for a stunning woman. I picked the closest shade of blue that matched your eyes. I’m obsessed with your eyes, Arabella. Even when you’re rolling them at me.”
Sebastian huffed a small laugh of amusement and Remy’s own lips tilted up. She did, in fact, roll her eyes a fair amount at him. But fondly. Mostly.
Then his words hit her. “You—you picked this out?” She fought for breath amidst a riot of emotions—desire. Fear. Awe at his care and his attention to her.
Happiness.