Chapter Thirty-One
Sebastian
The bright, whimsical melody of the ukulele lulls me between the realms of wake and sleep.
The music is coming from nearby, but in my drowsy state, I can’t quite discern if the musician is inside or outside.
All I know is that Rosalia and I are on our tropical honeymoon.
Her soft body, warm and fragrant, is blissfully pressing all along me.
I kiss the back of her neck, bury my nose in her silken hair, and consider asking the talented ukulele player to leave.
Especially when Rosalia, still half-asleep, wiggles her hips, grinds her ass against my growing arousal.
A low hum of approval escapes her throat, and heat blooms across my chest, spreading outward until even my fingertips tingle with anticipation.
“Crap, I’m going to be late,” she mutters, her words piercing through my haze.
She moves away from me, and I hold tight. “The luau can wait.”
Giggling and twisting around so we face each other, she says, “That sounds even better than a field of balloons.”
The mention of balloons tugs me fully awake.
The honeymoon suite dissolves, replaced by the cream walls and sheer lavender curtains on the wall opposite the bed.
I blink, taking in the sight of Rosalia beside me, her hair tousled and her face soft with sleep.
Glancing at my left hand resting on her hip, I see there isn’t a ring on my finger.
It was a dream. Given our secrets, I should be relieved, but instead, disappointment settles in my chest.
She smiles, placing a palm on my chest. “Good morning,” she murmurs, her voice laced with dreams.
“Morning,” I reply, shifting onto an elbow, locating the ukulele—Rosalia’s phone.
She rolls over and turns it off. “It’s my alarm.”
Laughing, I sit up and rub the stubble on my cheeks. “Tropical music as your morning alarm? That’s an interesting choice.”
She grins over her shoulder while reaching for a crimson robe hanging from the bed’s metal headboard.
“I thought waking up to a vacation song would be a nice way to start each day, but it’s backfiring.
The letdown each morning I open my eyes and do not find myself in a tropical destination is a major bummer. ”
I chuckle, but it turns to a curse when I glance at my phone on the nightstand and see the time. “No chance I’ll make it home to change and still make my morning meeting.” I pick up my cell. “I’ll call Hanna and have her reschedule.”
“You could get ready here. Have Tom bring you a change of clothes,” Rosalia suggests, wrapping the robe around her and standing .
I blow out a breath. That would help with my packed schedule, but in all honesty, the bigger draw of this plan is having more time with her. “Are you sure?”
“Yup. Get in the shower. While you’re in there, I’ll wait for Tom and get your clothes from him.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ve pulled too many all-nighters at work. I have spares in all my vehicles. Though the ones in my truck have been there a while. Hopefully, they still fit. And I’ll have to go commando.”
She takes in my bare chest, the thin sheet covering my bottom half. When she returns to my face, her eyes are fully dilated. Desire surges through me, shutting off my brain.
“Or…” I scoot to the other side of the bed, where she stands.
The movement has the sheet falling away from me.
Her gaze devours my naked body, and rational thought abandons me completely.
Shifting, I sit with my feet on the ground and her between my legs.
I slip a hand inside her robe, cupping her breast. “We could be late.”
She gasps and takes half a step toward me. Standing, I lean in for a kiss. Just before I reach her lips, she stumbles back, placing a hand over her mouth. “I have morning breath.”
“If that bothers you, I can kiss other places.” I push aside the thin cotton of her robe and flick her peaked nipple with my tongue.
“Okay,” she rasps.
Her phone cries from the nightstand, and her moan turns into a groan. “That’s probably Dad or Paige. I have to answer.”
Looking at the ID, she swipes and says, “Hi, Paige. What’s up?”
She doesn’t tie her robe closed, and I take that as an invitation. I sit back on the bed’s edge and pull her between my legs, planting a kiss on her stomach.
Running a hand through my hair, she grips the longer strands on top, saying into the phone, “We can meet—” I shift to her hip and bite lightly. “M-meet in a…could you just text me where to meet?”
I smile against her warm skin. “No. No, I’m fine. Just, um, distracted.” Happy to be her distraction, I run my tongue slowly from her hip, closer and closer to the apex of her thighs. She inhales sharply, then steps out of my reach, and mouths, “Get your clothes.”
I push out my bottom lip, making her laugh. Then I stand. I really do need to get moving. I pull on last night’s clothes and grab my keys before heading down to the truck for my spare outfit.
“Nothing. Just saw something funny out the window,” I hear her say as I leave the bedroom.
Walking through her apartment and down the alley stairs, my heart swells with emotions I dare not name. They’re all terrifying to acknowledge. I shouldn’t feel this way about someone I can’t fully trust. Reaching the gravel of her alley, I turn to the delivery door of the bookstore and sigh.
There’d been a moment last night where I thought she’d tell me about her deal with Thorne. I’d seen it in her eyes. The same when we were hiking. But she’d turned away, holding onto her secrets. Did he have her sign an NDA as well? Probably.
Fucking Thorne and his deals and wagers.
He loves to gamble, and one day he’s going to lose everything.
Although today it feels like I’ll be the loser.
His wager hangs over everything between Rosalia and me, ready to destroy what we’re building.
In my mind’s eye, I can see her face crumple if the truth comes out.
I can hear the venom in her voice as she cries, “I trusted you.”
Reaching my truck, I lean against the driver’s side door.
The honorable choice would be to drive away now, putting distance between us to make it easier for her to take the files from me.
Let her save all she has worked for. But then I remember my employees and what would happen to them if my brother were to take over.
It will hurt her to believe she’s giving up her store and programs, but once this is over, I’ll make sure she wants for nothing. Ever.
I grab my clothes and rush back up the stairs to her apartment. Opening the door, my gaze lands on the towel I’d tossed on the counter after we started kissing. I’d give anything to go back in time. Not to change things, because I'm a selfish bastard. I want to relive every moment.
“Rosalia,” I call from the hallway to let her know I’m back .
“I’m in the shower. There’s a new toothbrush on the counter for you.”
I walk into the bathroom, thanking her. Right after washing and brushing my teeth, the rings on the shower curtain rattle as she pulls the material back. In the mirror’s reflection, Rosalia stands naked, rivulets cascading down her curves. “Join me?” she asks.
The steam curls around us, carrying her intoxicating scent of summer fruits and warm skin.
Turning, I suck in the humid air, hoping to steady my breathing, but every inhale draws me deeper under her spell.
I ache to touch her, to lose myself in her warmth.
But I hold back. This isn’t physical craving alone.
Rosalia has become my refuge, my solace.
Stepping into that shower with her would be surrendering to something deeper than desire.
“I am having trouble reaching a certain spot. Could you help me?” She bites her lip, looking at me through long lashes lined with moisture.
I yearn to reach out, but hold back. This isn’t just physical anymore. She’s becoming someone I can’t afford to lose, and that terrifies me more than any secret I’m keeping. “Rosalia, I...” I start, but the words catch in my throat. “Aren’t you in a hurry?”
“My dad called right after I hung up with Paige. He’s running a little behind.”
Water from the shower hits her shoulder and neck, creating an enticing trail between her breasts. I can’t look away. Her hand slides up her wet stomach and cups herself, sighing, “But you have your breakfast meeting…”
“I’m the boss. They can wait for me.” I shuck out of my clothes and step into the shower, pressing her against the wall and kissing her until she’s writhing against me.
When we pull apart, I pick up a bar of soap. She hands me a loofah. “I’d rather use my hands,” I say.
I turn her around, and she rests her palms against the tiled wall.
Goosebumps rise on her skin, and her quickening pants tell me she’s as turned on as I am.
Working up a lather, I slide my soapy hand along her shoulders, arms, then waist. Bringing them to her front, I cup her breasts.
She presses back, her ass rubbing against my rock-hard dick .
Heat rushes through my body and I grind against her slick skin. All my blood and need rush south. Gliding a hand down her stomach and between her legs, I press my fingers against her clit. She moans my name. I love the sound on her needy lips.
She slides my cock between her thighs, wrapping her hand around the head. She’s slippery and warm from the shower and her desire. In a single thrust, I’d be inside her.
She bends as if reading my mind, placing her hands on the opposite wall. Over her shoulder, she looks into my eyes and begs, “Please.”
The condoms are in the bedroom, but I can’t leave her. I come closer, like a magnet to metal, pulled by a force both invisible and undeniable. There’s plenty to do with her beautiful body that doesn’t have to end with me inside her.