Chapter 59
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Each day, do one thing that fuels your happiness.
—From Remy’s Badass Bitch Affirmations
Remy
Remy rose before the sun—as was her routine, even when recovering from a nasty virus.
She was feeling considerably better, but not well enough to swim.
Moreso, she didn’t want to risk spreading any lingering germs. Instead, she fed Chicane and set him to play in his digging box, brewed an Americano, and settled onto the couch.
Her intention was to review her upcoming cases and the post-op notes from the surgeries Slattery had jumped in to complete for her.
Instead, her eyes were drawn to the book on the table.
The one Sebastian had apparently finished yesterday, because his ‘This scene was better in rehearsal’ bookmark was now resting beside the novel.
He’d once treated her to an unhinged rant about never, ever dogearing a book, which apparently was equally as dangerous as naming The Scottish Play.
Intrigued, Remy picked up the novel. And promptly became engrossed in the story.
Some time later, a loud gasp pulled her attention from the page, where the leader of the pack had just knotted his fated mate.
Holy shit, that was hot.
Remy’s eyes flew guiltily to Sebastian’s dramatically flared ones. She hadn’t intended to let him catch her in the romance-reading act.
“Are you—Dr. Arabella Remington—reading my shifter romance?” Sebastian grasped his chest, reeling around the family room.
Remy smiled, shaking her head at the theatrics on display. A hot, funny man was a special thing to behold.
With a start, she realized she’d smiled and laughed more in the last weeks than she probably had in the entire last decade.
“I mean, yes?” she offered, tucking the book carefully back on the table. “I came down early and it was…calling to me.” She shrugged.
Sebastian howled, doing a remarkably accurate impersonation of a wolf. Chicane chirruped along. Such a daddy’s boy.
“Calling to you like a wolf’s fated mate,” Sebastian gloated, chin lifted in the manner of one proved right. “You’re loving that shifter romance, aren’t you?” He hopped on the end of the couch, grabbing her feet and placing them on his lap.
“It’s…slightly addictive,” Remy admitted, rolling her eyes fondly. Because she really was so damn fond of this man. “Freaking transitive property,” she muttered to herself, wondering how she could sneak the next chapter.
“Say what? Whose property?” Bash stretched out alongside her.
Good thing her couch was extra wide. Perfect for two. Which hadn’t been a consideration when she purchased it. It just worked in the room. Now, she couldn’t imagine the room without it, or the man sharing it with her.
Remy raised a brow, then moaned as he began rubbing her feet. “Transitive property. Put simply, you like something, and I like you, ergo, I like what you like.”
“I did not learn that in my theater program at NYU. Smarty pants.” He pressed his thumbs into her arch and she rolled her eyes again, this time in pleasure.
“I look forward to using that in a sentence and impressing Jared. Oooh…better yet, Brinder!” Sebastian appeared marvelously pleased at the prospect. Almost giddy.
“You’re welcome,” she teased.
“You’re welcome back,” he replied, “for introducing you to the wonders of a great romance novel.” He swept his gaze across her, like he could see any wayward germs still besieging her. “How are you feeling this morning, my queen?”
“Much better.” She smiled, suddenly feeling shy and awkward. She caught his gaze and looked away. “Thank you for taking care of me, Sebastian. I—I really appreciate it. I’m sorry for being needy. And I hope you don’t get sick.”
“Number one”—he patted his impressive four-pack—“iron guts. Rarely get sick. And if I do”—he lifted one shoulder—“no biggie. Some barfing. Maybe some shitting. Then it’s over.” He grimaced, holding out a placating hand. “Not to minimize your suffering.”
“Of course not,” she laughed.
“Number Two…heh heh…fitting”—he winked—“you’re most welcome, my queen. Which leads me to three…no apologies.” He ran a finger along her shin, leaving chills in its wake. “It’s what we do for the people we love.”
Intense brown eyes bore into hers, and Remy fought the urge to squirm.
He’d said it again. The L word.
Remy cast around for the right response, completely out of her emotional element. “Well, thank you again,” she managed awkwardly, adding, “For the tender…loving care.”
She exhaled shakily. The room was painfully quiet, the only sound Chicane digging happily in his box.
So,” Sebastian added casually, throwing her a conversational and emotional lifeline, “where are you in the book?”
Remy didn’t even get a chance to be relieved, her cheeks burning at the memory of the scene. A frisson of worry lanced down her spine. Could Sebastian smell her arousal from the evocative scene he’d interrupted?
Never could she ever have imagined being turned on by a book.
She was wet. And horny. From the product of someone’s imagination.
“The alpha had just—he just—” Why couldn’t she say it? It was fiction, for crying out loud.
Sebastian gave her a knowing, slightly lascivious look, and her ladyparts gave a standing ovation in response. “He just knotted her for the first time.”
“Yes,” she managed, horrified that her voice cracked on the simple word.
He nodded and grinned. “Told you knotting was hot. Welcome to the spicy romance jungle, Angel, where the stories are amazing and the sex is steamy. Now you’ll be sneaking chapters between cases.”
“I hardly think so.” Remy tried to summon her imperious attending doctor tone. And probably undermined it by the loud gulp that followed.
“Sure, my angel. But, transitive property, you know?” He tugged one of her toes playfully. “Hmmm…I’m a big fan of sex toys…” he led. “And I’m a big fan of you. So, by the transitive property—look at me using my new vocabulary word in a sentence—you should be a big fan of said toys.”
“Sebastian!” She gently smacked his leg.
He was wearing a pair of low-slung athletic shorts, teasing her with that damn Adonis belt, and his new T-shirt hugged his biceps.
Sebastian wiggled a foot under her bottom and she reflexively placed a hand on one ridiculously enticing quad.
Who knew a man’s leg could be such a turn on?
“So that’s a no?”
“That’s a,” she paused, blushing furiously, “that’s a definite maybe.”
“Boom!” Sebastian cheered and she giggled. Add another laugh to the Sebastian joy tally.