Chapter 9
Nine
From where she lay sprawled atop him on the sofa, Laurel stared at the freshly-decorated Frasier fir now occupying a prominent corner of the farmhouse living room. “We do good work.”
Sebastian tunneled a hand under her sweater to stroke up and down her spine.
Their time was almost up. In thirty-six hours, Logan and his new bride would be back from their honeymoon.
Laurel would have to move back into the guest room instead of his bed.
Her parents would be inbound the day after that.
And then she’d be going back to her regularly scheduled life and whatever new direction she figured out.
He wanted as much of her as he could get before then.
“It’s a good lookin’ tree. And I’m pretty sure not having to scramble to make everything presentable for your folks will secure you a spot in the favorite sister column.”
“Here’s hoping they like everything. I may have gone a little overboard at the holiday bazaar.”
He laughed, remembering the slightly manic look in her eyes as she’d moved from booth to booth—woman on a mission. “Maybe a little. You’d think you never saw handmade ornaments before.”
“We didn’t have that kind growing up.”
“Really? No popsicle stick sleds or pasta angels? I think most of our tree was covered in the stuff Mom and I made when I was little.”
Laurel snuggled closer, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. “I’d have loved that. But no, we didn’t have homemade or handmade ornaments. That kind of thing would never have been allowed on one of Mom’s trees.”
“It wasn’t a family affair?”
“Oh no. It had to look good for the Christmas cards, so she went with theme trees she either decorated herself or hired a professional to do.”
That sounded…impersonal. “Theme trees?”
“Yeah. Like, one year we had this big beach vacation. She brought back shells, spray painted them gold, and hung them, along with a bunch of peach ornaments.” She propped herself on his chest, expression dialed to righteous indignation. “Peach! Peach is not a Christmas color, Sebastian!”
From the floor, Bo and Peep both popped up, ears pricked, ready for action.
Sebastian’s lips twitched as he tried not to laugh. “That sounds…uh—”
“Awful. The word you are looking for is awful. I mean, some years were better than others. The beach tree was the worst of the lot. But we never had the fun, homemade ornaments to pull out every year. The kind that tell a story. Because that didn’t look good.”
Digging his fingers into the tension in her back, he began to knead. “That seems to be a recurring theme in a lot of the stories you’ve told about growing up.”
She grimaced. “Oh God, yes. So much of the life I was raised in was about appearances. I don’t care about appearances.
I care about what’s real.” Her eyes turned serious.
Leaning up, she cupped his cheek, brushing a soft kiss against his lips.
“My time here with you has been real. Maybe more real than anything I’ve felt in my life. ”
She really knew how to take his breath away.
He felt the same, and something sharp twisted in his chest that she was already thinking about the end.
He didn’t want to talk about that. He didn’t want to talk at all.
Satisfied with the idea of seducing her as distraction for them both, he slid a hand into her hair.
“About the Massey farm.”
Sebastian froze. He didn’t want to talk about that either. “I thought we agreed to hold off on that discussion until after the holidays.”
“I didn’t actually agree to anything. I don’t mean to pressure you, but I don’t think you’re really giving the idea the consideration it deserves.”
Oh, he’d thought about it, and the whole idea made him uncomfortable.
In typical Laurel fashion, she was thinking way too big.
Too much. He was a realist. Once she went back to Nashville, he intended to research ways to make the rescue itself self-sustaining and stop worrying about the idea of moving it off-site.
Knowing how much time and effort she’d put into crafting a solution for him, he chose his words with care.
“I’m not trying to dismiss the idea. I’m beyond flattered that you think this is something I’m capable of pulling off.
But it’s not that easy. A program of the scale you’re describing would require a shit-ton of admin and paperwork and I don’t even know what all kind of details.
Maybe all that seems easy for you, because you deal in details, and all the legalities of running something like this are no big thing for you.
But I’d be completely in over my head. And wasn’t this supposed to be about me getting more time with the rescues? ”
“That’s why I’m proposing to do this with you.”
“I know you’ve said you’ll help with the grant applications—”
“Not just the grants. All of it. I want to do this with you.”
Hope mule-kicked him in the chest. She couldn’t mean that how it sounded. Could she?
Sebastian hardly dared to breathe. “What are you saying?”
“You’re right. Details and legalities are easy for me.
It just makes sense for me to stay and take that part over so you can focus on the part you love.
” She curled her hands into his shirt. “I know it’s crazy and fast and too soon.
But I’ve always been direct with you, and we don’t have that much more time.
You were right that a week isn’t enough. I don’t want to walk away.”
Her words echoed through him like a mortar blast.
She wanted to stay. It was the thing he hadn’t let himself wish for, hadn’t even let himself think about. But this wasn’t as simple as she was imagining. She had a romanticized view of things, and one of them had to keep a foot in reality.
“You shouldn’t stay just for me. Just to handle all the crap I can’t or don’t want to.”
“It’s not just for you. As I’ve gotten more into researching this whole thing, the more I really want to do this, for myself.
It’s completely different from anything I’d considered before, but it would still use my skills, and I like that.
Honestly, I don’t know if it will ultimately be my thing, but it’s something I know I can do.
And, really, I love the idea of what we could accomplish with this.
We could make a huge difference in a lot of lives. ”
This was her new challenge. She’d never be satisfied mucking out stalls and giving kids pony rides for longer than a few weeks. She needed more. But the more was so damned huge.
“You’ve been asking me for more than a week what it is I want, and I’ve finally figured that out. Or part of it, anyway. I want to follow my brother’s example. To be brave. To choose a different life. To choose more. I want that more with you. I want to give us a chance.”
Sebastian wanted that chance. He wanted it more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life.
But to get it, he had to agree to taking this leap of going out on his own.
Except, it wouldn’t be on his own. Not with her in his corner.
She was a formidable woman, one who he had no doubt could and would handle all the details that would surely come up.
That made the entire prospect less terrifying.
He could see it. How they’d work together.
How they’d be happy. How they could make a life together.
And even though the idea of dreaming as big as she did was more terrifying than his first solo parajump, the idea of losing her scared him more.
If this was really what she wanted to do—to build the therapy center, run it, staff it, chase the funding, all while leaving him to the business of rehabbing the horses—many, many more horses than he could serve now—that all sounded pretty amazing.
For a long time, he said nothing, his face inscrutable, his body tense. The longer the silence drew out, the harder Laurel’s heart pounded. The anxiety she thought she’d banished since she’d been here began to curl through her, insidious as smoke.
I knew it. I knew this was too much, too fast.
Or maybe that wasn’t it at all. Maybe he hated the idea. Worse, maybe this had been just a fling to him and he didn’t even want her to stay. It didn’t feel like that to her, but anything was possible.
Oh my God. Say something before my heart beats straight out of my chest.
“You really want to stay?” The question came out rusty with emotion.
Laurel jumped at the tell. “Yes. I want to stay. I want to help you set up this program expansion. I want the chance to see what we can be together.”
One hand slid into her hair as his eyes searched her face, dark and intense. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
And she understood that he couldn’t ask. Because he didn’t let himself ask for anything. Asking opened him up to rejection, and that was a position he wasn’t willing to take. But she was more than willing to close the distance.
She cupped his face. “You’re not asking. I’m making the choice, Sebastian. To choose this life. To choose you. If you’ll have me.”
He loosed a shuddering breath and dropped the stoic mask, pressing his brow to hers. “Thank God. I didn’t know how the hell I was going to let you go.”
At the sight of all that raw need in his expression, her heart rolled over in her chest. “Then don’t. Don’t let me go.” Tightening her grip, Laurel kissed him, sinking into the spiraling warmth of relief and wanting.
“Laurel.” He said her name like a desperate prayer of thanks and tightened his arms around her, tugging her so close, she could feel his heart hammering against her chest. Only then did she understand that he’d been afraid.
Afraid of losing her. Of not being enough.
Knowing that she mattered, that she wasn’t in this alone, she fell just a little bit deeper.
“Sebastian.” She sighed it, melting against him, wanting to assuage that lingering fear. To show him that he was enough. That he was everything.
He pressed his face into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, as if he just needed to breathe her in. Tenderness welled up at that small sign of vulnerability. Threading her fingers through the short hair at his nape, she held him close, grateful—so grateful—that this wouldn’t be the last time.
On a sigh, he brushed his lips along her throat in slow, nibbling kisses.
Laurel hummed with pleasure and tipped her head to give him better access.
He trailed his way along her jaw, igniting little fires as he went, until their mouths met and clung.
His hands stroked down her spine to the backs of her thighs, urging her legs apart so she straddled him.
The bulge of his erection pressed against her center and she rocked against him.
Want kindled to need, until heat pooled low in her belly and she shoved up his shirt.
He reared up to tug it off as she did the same.
“So beautiful,” he rasped.
She felt beautiful when he looked at her like that, eyes gone almost black with desire.
Reaching for him, she brought his hands to her breasts, loving the feel of his callused fingers on her flesh, cupping, kneading.
She ignited at his touch, rolling her hips to grind against him as he circled her nipples with his thumbs.
She would never get enough of that bold possession.
Because she was his in every way that mattered.
“Need you. Need you so damned much,” he murmured, his expression fierce.
She knew what it cost him to admit it. Because he didn’t let himself need anyone. His life had been one lesson after another that people would leave him. But she wouldn’t. Because she needed him just as much.
“Then take me.”
They lost themselves in a frenzy of desperate hands and tongues.
Touching. Stroking. Stripping away every remaining barrier, until she straddled him again and the tip of his cock nudged her entrance.
Rolling her hips, she stroked him through her wetness, loving the erotic friction of his flesh against hers, desperate to feel the rise and fall of his body beneath hers.
She wanted him inside her more than she wanted her next breath, but when she wrapped her hand around his erection to guide him home, his big hands gripped her hips, his expression twisting to one of borderline pain. “Wait.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Condom. Don’t have one here.”
They’d spent all their naked time at his house, where there was a ready supply. It had been the smart thing to do and an easy non-discussion. But he wasn’t the only one that had them covered.
“Don’t need one. I haven’t been with anyone but you in two years, and I’ve got an IUD.”
“I haven’t been with anyone else since I got out of the Army. But are you sure?”
“I need you, Sebastian. Right now.”
His fingers tightened on her. “I’m yours.”
“Mine.” Gaze locked on his, she sank down, taking him in, claiming him in one long, slow slide.
He filled her up, body and heart. This kind, beautiful man who was her port in the storm.
As she rolled her hips, setting a torturous rhythm, she felt the words trembling on her tongue.
Even in the midst of the heat they made together, she knew it was still too soon.
They had time. So she swallowed back the declaration and rode him, until they’d both forgotten everything but the glide of bodies and the slide of skin against passion-slicked skin.
And when she shot over the edge into bliss, his name on her lips, he gripped her hips and followed.