Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
Find someone who looks at you the way a freshly turned she-wolf
looks at the glow of a harvest moon.
—From Remy’s Sinister Affirmations
Remy
Remy startled at the sensation as she tried to catch her breath, her body ravaged by the three orgasms that had barreled through her courtesy of Sebastian. “Did you just…bite me?”
Sebastian, who had collapsed next to her, turned on his side and nuzzled her cheek, peppering it with soft kisses. “I did.”
“Uh…may I ask why?” She reached up to touch the spot. He hadn’t broken skin, but he’d nipped her hard enough to redden it.
He shifted up on his elbow, biceps popping, and grinned at her. “You’re my fated mate. I marked you.”
Remy couldn’t help it. She reached up and brushed back a sweaty tendril that had landed on his forehead. It was a tender gesture for a decidedly not tender woman. Once again, Sebastian was excavating parts of her she never knew existed.
“Fated mates?” Remy couldn’t help her matching grin. “I’m assuming this has something to do with that shifty romance you’re reading?”
“Shifter.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Which you know. Brat.”
“Potayto-potahtoe.” She waved a dismissive hand.
“Au contraire, my queen. And I bet if you read even a couple pages of my shifter,” he hit the word theatrically, “romance, you’d be hooked.”
What was this easy rapport? And following mind-blowing sex. What parallel universe had she fallen into? Had she passed out and hit her head and this was just some bizarre fantasy? It had to be.
Sebastian lowered his mouth to her nipple and began nibbling and sucking, stoking a fresh surge of need between Remy’s legs.
Nope. This was definitely real. He was real. Remy fought to keep her train of thought as Sebastian flicked her nipple.
“That’s what fated mates do. It seals the bond,” he murmured against her. “Then they’re both stronger with the mate bond. Well, technically, she has to bite him too. But sometimes there’s a delay. Like when her wolf is repressed.”
Remy jolted up and faced him, nipple pleasure momentarily forgotten.
This man and his big, unfiltered emotions.
She was quite sure, in the aftermath of amazing sex, he probably thought their connection was lasting.
But Remy knew better. His life and hers ultimately were incompatible.
And he deserved someone less…damaged. Someone newer and brighter and beautiful.
“I don’t have a wolf, repressed or otherwise. And I’m not biting you back, Sebastian Wheatley.” She crossed her arms.
Sebastian beamed at her, appearing unphased by the re-emergence of her self-protective snark. “There she is. My beautiful queen with her barbed tongue. Good thing prickly seems to be an aphrodisiac for me.” He winked and motioned to his cock, which was rising to the occasion. Again.
Remy wasn’t the most experienced woman, but she was pretty sure that short of a sexual refractory period was unusual for a male in his late forties.
He raised his brows and wagged a finger at her. One that had been inside her body not that long ago. A wave of fresh arousal crashed through her. “You better not be thinking what I think you’re thinking, my queen.”
Remy giggled. This man made her, a grown-ass woman, giggle. “I’m merely impressed with your recovery time.”
“I’m in the prime of life, I’ll have you know!” Sebastian faked a growl and rolled her onto her back, once again peppering her with kisses all over her face, neck, and chest.
She laughed and batted at him. “Stop, you silly clown!”
She absolutely did not want him to stop.
“Nope,” Sebastian pronounced between kisses. “Now you pissed off my inner wolf and he’s going to have to mate you—spectacularly, I might add— to prove his alpha dominance. If you’re lucky, I might even knot you.”
“What the hell does that even mean?” she asked, trying to catch her breath as his teasing kisses took a more seductive turn.
“Read the book. And when you’re good and turned on, let me know, and I’ll fuck you ‘til you scream.”
Three hours—and four more orgasms—later, they were tucked in bed, naked. He was sitting against the headboard, Remy propped between his legs. Sebastian had pulled the sheet over them, but kicked one leg out, claiming it helped to balance his temperature.
Goofball. Remy smiled, stroking the muscular length of his thigh, enjoying the feel of hard sinew under skin.
She was pleasantly sore in all the best places.
Seven orgasms tonight! That was more than she’d had in the past seven years.
And his solicitious, tender care after? It wrecked her in the best possible way.
Impulse had her turning in his arms to press a kiss on his chest.
“What was that for?” Sebastian’s question rumbled in his chest. He had his book propped on a pillow off to his side, reading glasses on.
So sinfully enticing.
“Just felt like it.” Remy settled back against him. “Sebastian?”
“Hmmm?” He was quite engrossed in his book.
The same could not be said for her and the F1 coverage currently on the TV. She’d finally muted it, unable to focus on her favorite sport.
“Do you have chest hair?”
“Does it feel like I have chest hair?” he parried, closing his book.
She swatted at him playfully. “I mean, do you get your chest waxed? It’s as soft as a baby’s skin.”
“Have you ever delivered a baby?”
“Do you wax?”
“Hey, I asked you a question.” He reached around and booped her on the nose before dropping a kiss on the crown of her head.
“I asked you first.”
“Are we ten?”
“Yep, plus a few decades.” Remy grinned teasingly, though she knew he couldn’t see her expression.
“Ok, that was just cruel, my queen.”
He squeezed his arms around her in a glorious reverse bear hug. Hugs had been rare in her life. Even so, Sebastian’s had to be Guinness World Records worthy.
“Every time I see my age written out,” he continued, “it feels like it has to be an error. I mean, when people mention 1995, I still think it was ten years ago.”
“More like thirty.”
“Why does she keep hurting me? Whyyyy?” he cried out dramatically, raising a fist to the ceiling.
Remy snickered. “So, do you wax?”
Sebastian sighed. “I prefer not to. But my last role required me to build up a lot of muscle—”
“I see that,” she whispered, tracing the outline of his bulging quadricep. Would he freak out if she licked it? Nah. This was Sebastian. He’d love it, and probably lick hers back. She smiled at the visual.
“And they wanted a hairless look,” he continued, unaware of her developing quadricep-licking fetish. “I’ve just kept it up. I don’t like the growing-in stage.”
“Will you ever grow it back?” She nuzzled the back of her head into his chest as he wrapped both arms tighter.
“Do you want me to?” Sebastian pressed another kiss to the top of her head. When he placed a second one on the tender area where he’d bitten her, a tiny thrill shot through her.
“Maybe. I want to see if you have any gray chest hairs.”
“See? Cruel,” he whispered, swatting the side of her ass. “It’s a good thing you’re irresistible as fuck. And smart. And insanely beautiful…oh, hell. You’re the whole package.”
Remy smiled, biting her lower lip. How did he manage to make her feel so desired?
Without warning, a loud yawn escaped from her, surprising both of them.
Sebastian chuckled and nuzzled her, lifting her hand to kiss her wrist, his tongue gently flicking against the tiny freckle on her triquetrum bone.
“Love that little freckle,” he murmured, laughing softly when she yawned again.
“I’ll let you sleep in a minute. First I need to know if you’ve delivered a baby. ”
Remy fought to keep her eyes open, her body sated and her heart content. “A few times. During the first year of my residency, on my ob/gyn rotation. Never again.” She shuddered.
“Wasn’t it magical?”
“I’m sure it was for the parents. But catching babies didn’t rev my engines. I wanted to do surgery.”
“Did you always want to be an orthopedic surgeon?”
Remy blinked against the sudden wetness in her eyes, glad she was facing away. “No. I had…motivation. I don’t want to talk about it right now. But I will. Later. When I tell you…other things.”
Sebastian brought his uncovered leg up and crossed it over her legs, so she was fully cradled in his body. It was…soothing. He said nothing. Just held her for long minutes in peaceful silence, Remy beyond relieved he hadn’t pushed her to say more.
She released a jaw-cracking yawn, and then laughed.
“My queen is worn out from her Filthy F1 and then our own filthy fun.” Sebastian brought their linked hands to his mouth and kissed the back of her hand. “Shall we go to sleep, Arabella?”
She stifled another yawn. She had a long week of clinic visits and OR cases in front of her, starting Tuesday. Bash had arranged for a late checkout followed by a commercial flight Monday afternoon, and then she really wanted to pop over to the shelter since she’d missed her day this weekend.
“It’s going to be really busy for me this week.
I felt so guilty about canceling tomorrow’s surgeries.
Thankfully my practice manager had all my patients rescheduled within a week.
I’ll have some really early starts and later evenings, and I’m working through lunch all week to fit in patients I had to cancel.
I don’t want to inconvenience them so I can have fun. ” She yawned again, her eyes watering.
Sebastian eased her forward and then moved his leg so he was no longer straddling her, guiding her back onto one feather-soft pillow and positioning himself next to her on the other. Boo, she could have easily fallen asleep in his arms like that.
“Arabella, you’re allowed to take some time for yourself and have fun.” He caressed the side of her face.
She looked down, trying to pull herself together. “I just—I haven’t taken any time off in years.”
His beautiful brown eyes flared. “Not even sick days?”
She shrugged. “I don’t get sick.”
“Arabella, everyone gets sick sometimes.”
Remy watched the little circles he was now tracing with his finger on the back of her hand, sure that if she looked at him, his compassion at her pathetic life would break her.
She lifted her shoulders again. “I never had the luxury of getting sick. When there’s no one to take care of you…
” She trailed off, desperate not to get into anything maudlin during this special weekend.
“I guess it’s just mind over matter for me.
I don’t allow myself to get sick, so I don’t get sick. ”
Sebastian’s eyes moved across her face and she could read his sorrow for her. All her life, she’d had to deal with the ‘poor Arabella’ comments. That lessened once she was out on her own, though she was well aware that people at work pitied her for not having family or a social life.
Please don’t make me talk about it. Please don’t pity me.
“Well,” he began, and Remy braced herself, “I spewed my guts all over my co-star’s pants once, so if you can teach me your sickness-blasting ninja mind skills, oh sensei, I’d appreciate you doing me the solid.”
Remy let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“It’s the least you can do for me. I am the person who made sure you met your Formula 1 idols.” He winked and kissed her cheek.
Remy laughed softly and nodded. “Thank you, Sebastian.”
“For what?”
She briefly reached for the spot where he’d bitten her—a tender bite so different from the marks Doug had inflicted on her.
“F1 in person was amazing. But you’re the best part of this weekend.”