Chapter 62
Chapter Sixty-Two
Three moles were walking through a tunnel. The first said, ‘I smell sugar.’ The second said, ‘I smell honey.’ The third said, ‘I smell molasses.’
—From Bash’s dad joke collection
Bash
The ride up to the penthouse was quiet. Not because they were tired, but because Bash sensed both he and Arabella were each overwhelmed with emotions and trying hard to sort through them.
He could read her like a book, and he saw—or felt—everything going through her.
Her initial awe at the controlled chaos of the red carpet.
Her pride in him. Her possessiveness when confronted with Trina Elliott’s blatant flirting—which then sent a thrill of his own possessiveness through him.
Her wonder at the spectacle of it all. Her pride in him. Her sheer happiness.
That was the easiest to read. She practically glowed. Even when she wasn’t smiling, her eyes were, the sapphire lighting up.
He’d been worried she’d be overwhelmed by the discordance and noise of a premiere. Instead? His queen had displayed the poise that had made her a chief resident, a leading surgeon, and now a chief of her specialty.
As for him, instead of his usual blasé, rote red carpet performance, he found himself experiencing it through her eyes and falling in love with the wonder of acting all over again.
It was like she turned something on in him.
Not just his cock—which was already thickening in anticipation of what he had planned—but his passion for film.
He’d been going through the motions for so long. But with the role in Paradise within reach, and his queen at his side, he relaxed. He took in all the glamour and chaos, the sophistication and spectacle, with fresh eyes.
And he was excited. And in love.
And also very much in lust.
Because good fucking God…when he’d stepped into their suite before the premier—deciding to ready himself in another room one floor below so he could enjoy the big reveal—he’d been stunned speechless.
She was a vision. An enticing, sophisticated vision, who carried herself with the grace of her years and accomplishments.
A woman who was unfurling in splendor, embracing who she was and who she might become in this next season of her life.
A reality where she had nothing left to prove and a world of hard-earned possibility at her fingertips.
His queen was accomplished. Self-actualized. Thoughtful. There was no artifice. Just a woman who knew what she wanted and was making it happen.
It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever witnessed. He was entranced by her.
Also, he desperately wanted to bury himself inside her. But not before he made her scream his name.
“Dollar for your thoughts?”
Arabella’s teasing question brought him back into focus. How many times had she needed to do that in their time together? Shit—had he taken his ADHD meds today? He needed a better reminder system.
“Big spender,” he parried, lacing their fingers as they entered the suite.
“Well, when in Rome,” she rejoined, motioning to the opulence around them.
Suddenly, Bash felt uncertain. Had this been too much? He always stayed here, but maybe it was too ostentatious for his Virginia surgeon from humble beginnings. “Is this ok?” He caught himself tapping his foot nervously and forced his leg to be chill, even if the rest of him wasn’t.
“Are you kidding?” One artfully sculpted eyebrow lifted high. “This is incredible. You should always have premieres.” She grinned. “I love this place.”
Relief washed through him. Of course his queen would take the penthouse of the Beverly Hills Hotel in stride.
“I only have premieres a couple times a year, max.”
“Boo,” she drawled.
“But I’ll bring you back whenever you want. Or take you to other incredible places.”
Her eyes shone. “Deal.” Then she frowned a bit. “Though it does feel odd to be in the lap of luxury with bajillions of jewels hanging off of me when so many struggle to make ends meet.”
Bash stepped closer, running his hands down the satiny smooth skin of her arms. “And that’s why I give very generously to charity, my queen. You’re most welcome to suggest other causes that are important to you, organizations that speak to you.”
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “You’d do that? You’d just…donate where I suggested?”
“Of course I would. I trust you,” he responded matter-of-factly, leaning in to run his nose along the column of her elegant neck.
He’d denied himself that indulgence earlier. Hadn’t dared. Because he knew once he caught the scent of her like that, quickly removing all her clothes would inevitably ensue.
“Sebastian,” she breathed. “I—you—I don’t know how to put into words how lucky I feel.
And how…” She sighed as he traced weaving patterns along the rise of her collarbone, moving lower to brush over her nipples.
“How adored I feel.” The fabric of her dress didn’t permit easy access, but he knew it was thin enough to allow the sensation to arouse her.
“Because you are, Angel. You are.” He tugged her toward the double doors that led to the massive king-size bed. “And now I want to worship you, like you deserve.”
He could practically hear her swallow. And if he wasn’t mistaken—and he wasn’t—he could smell her desire.
He was her fated mate after all.
Bash maneuvered them to the bottom of the bed.
“Take down your hair, Arabella.”
Her eyes caught his and locked. Slowly, she lifted her toned arms, pulling out the hidden pins.
He held out his hand and she placed them carefully in his palm.
When she finished, he transferred them to his pants pocket and then combed her hair out with his fingers, taking his time to ease any tangles from the silky strands that had captivated him from the first moment he saw her.
Now, merely two months later, she was wearing his ring.
Soon, if he had his way, she’d be his bride.
It was simply a matter of aligning their schedules.
As he continued running his fingers through her hair, any knots long gone, Arabella closed her eyes, sighing softly and swaying just a bit.
“Shoes off, Angel,” he commanded softly, sure her feet had to be hurting.
She complied, exhaling in relief.
“Good. Now, turn around. Let’s get you out of this stunning dress.”
Arabella turned away from him and he quickly found the hidden zipper at her back. Running his fingers down her spine, chasing the metal teeth of the fastener, he relished in the sensation of her newly revealed skin, so soft and supple against his fingertips.
“I—I’m wearing so much shapewear it feels like a suit of armor,” Arabella offered uncertainly, biting her lower lip and showing her embarrassment at the less-than-scintillating undergarments.
But Bash was a veteran of the red carpet—and of undressing women in robust foundation garments that gave smooth lines.
“That can’t be comfortable,” he cooed. “Let’s get you out of it.
” Carefully, he helped her peel herself from the undergarment, sucking air through his teeth at the red, raised ridges left behind.
“Angel, ouch.” He rubbed the lines and Arabella moaned softly, leaning into him, her back against his front.
“That feels good,” she breathed out. “I don’t think I’ve taken a full breath in hours.”
“Then take a deep breath now.”
Arabella inhaled. Bash did as well. Because, at this very moment, his queen was naked in front of him, wearing only the sapphires he’d purchased for her. Just like his fantasy.
He raised his hands and covered her bare breasts, gently manipulating her nipples until they purled into nubs between his fingers. He rolled the hardened buds and Arabella moaned again and writhed against him.
“Are you wet, my queen?”
“So wet, Sebastian. I want you.”
“What do you want, Arabella? Say the words.”
She didn’t hesitate. “I want your fingers. Your mouth. Then your cock. Hard.”
Now it was Bash’s turn to sway. “Turn around.”
She slowly spun to face him, and Bash was…breathless.
Standing before him, naked and beautiful and shining brighter than any jewel he could buy, was his soulmate.
How he’d ever fallen into such great fortune, he’d never know or understand. But he would bask in gratitude for this gift before him every single day. For the rest of his life.
“Sebastian, you’re still dressed,” she whispered, reaching for his shoulders.
“And I’ll stay that way. For now,” he murmured, his dick weeping in delayed gratification in his trousers. “Climb on the bed, and get on your back.”
Arabella’s eyes flared, but she submitted to his request, crawling onto the mattress—giving him an excellent view of her ass—before gracefully rolling onto her back.
The staff had turned down the bed and she ran her hands along the thousand-plus count Egyptian cotton sheets. “Oh, we need to get some of these.”
Bash chuckled as he moved to the side of the bed. “Done. Now, spread your legs, Arabella.”
The pace of her breathing kicked up and the pale light of the room showed a rosy flush spreading across her chest. She reached for breasts.
“Ah ah,” he tutted, stopping her before she got to the promised land of her beautiful dusky nipples.
“Those are for me to touch. Keep your hands off your delectable body or I’ll have to tie you. ”
Her eyes widened and Sebastian could see the glistening of her arousal between her thighs. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, my queen? To submit in bed to your liege man? To be tied up?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Please.”
“Such pretty manners. Let’s see what we can do to make that happen for you.
” He reached into the bag Jared had stowed in the room while they were at the premiere, pulling out silk ropes he’d recently purchased with Arabella’s pleasure in mind.
Along with other treasures of sexual delight.
“Lace your fingers and put them over your head.”