The Reluctant Heiress: A Novella(30)

For a pregnant moment, I stare at her open-mouthed. Sebastian clears his throat. “I think that’s a great idea.”

Liquid heat pools in my center, weakening my knees. My spoon, full of sugar and angled for my mug, misses its target by several inches, dumping white grains all over the counter. I step in front of the mess, glancing over my shoulder to see if anyone noticed. Thankfully, my father and Sebastian are having a heated discussion about the stock market.

Nona—who used to be my favorite nana but is suddenly my worst enemy—says cheerily, “Candace, you should take Sebastian on one of your walks this morning. The poor boy was stuck on planes for over twenty-four hours. He needs to stretch his legs.”

“I, uh…” Faltering, I shoot her a glare.

“I’m pretty tired, actually,” says Sebastian smoothly. “I’ll probably head back to bed after breakfast.”

“Nonsense!” Nona exclaims, using the singular tone that makes everyone in the kitchen wince. “You’re only here for two days. You will not sleep through them.”

Unable to help myself, I turn and lean against the counter, aiming a mocking smile in Sebastian’s direction. He sticks his tongue out in reply, then notices his aunt’s pointed stare.

“Yes, Nona. Whatever you say, Nona.”

My father laughs. “Some things never change. So, Sebastian, how’s filming going?”

I help Nona bring breakfast to the table, listening with half an ear as Sebastian talks about the shoot, his demanding director, and the annoying conceits of his female costar. To avoid looking at him overlong, I focus on eating, and when everyone’s done, I help clear the table.

“Shoo, shoo!” Nona says when I start loading the dishwasher. “Go for a walk. Your father will help me clean.”

My dad chuckles as he pushes back his chair. To Sebastian, he whispers loudly, “It’s better if you just comply.”

Sebastian nods, smiling, and his gaze veers to me. “Walk?”

My heart leaps. “Sure.”

He follows me out of the kitchen, down a long hallway, and into the backyard. We walk silently toward the woods bordering the property, birdsong heavy around us and a warm breeze teasing our faces.

As we pass onto a narrow trailhead, I take the lead. The temperature drops several degrees beneath the heavy canopy, coaxing goose bumps from my arms. Sebastian’s even footsteps crunch behind me.

“Are you cold?” he asks softly.

“Nope, I’m good,” I say too loudly. This is ridiculous. Stop being awkward. “I’m glad you could make it for Nona’s birthday.”

“Me too.” He draws a breath. “You seem… better. More relaxed.”

“I am, thanks. Eventually I’ll have to figure out what the hell I’m doing with my life, but for now, I’m trying to stay in the moment. Be present. All that stuff.”

“Very Buddhist of you,” he murmurs cheekily.

I snort, glancing over my shoulder at him. “You do look really tired, Bast. Why don’t you sneak back to the guesthouse and get some sleep. I won’t tell Nona.”

He slows and stops. I do as well, turning fully to face him. Dappled shadows race along his body, highlighting the hollows beneath his eyes. I can’t read his expression as his guarded gaze roams around the forest before snapping to me.

“The fucking sheets smell like you.”

My nerves go hyperaware. He keeps staring at me, so long that I lose awareness of the world around us. There’s only him. Sebastian.

I gasp as his tension releases. Like a stalking predator, he closes the distance between us. And like prey, I freeze, my gaze flickering erratically over his chest and up to the pulse thrumming in his throat.

“Bast?” I whisper, and dare to look up.

Eyes burning with desire trace my features. “I like you without makeup,” he says in a low tone. A fingertip whispers across my cheekbone. “I wonder, is all of you covered in freckles? Your breasts? Stomach? Back?”

I draw a shuddering breath, saturated with raw lust.

This is wrong.

No—this is so, so right.

“Why don’t you find out?” I ask breathlessly.

He takes one more step, teasing my nipples with his hard chest, but otherwise doesn’t move to kiss or touch me. I fall into the darkness of his eyes. I’m strung tight with desire, poised on the edge of impulse.

“After the party,” he murmurs darkly. “Midnight. I want you in a white nightgown and nothing else, walking right here.”

My pulse jumps down, hammering between my legs. In a distant part of my mind, worry arises—this isn’t real, isn’t us. It’s a fantasy from our youth, not what I really want.

Then I realize I don’t care, because what I want is him.

However, wherever.

“Okay,” I whisper, and his eyes flare with satisfaction. “But only if you wear your letterman jacket.”

He sucks in a sharp breath, lips twitching. “Oh, fuck. This is so twisted.”

I grin up at him. “You’re already half-hard, aren't you?”

His answering smile is sinfully sharp. “More than half. And you’re soaking wet.”

I nod without shame, then glance meaningfully below his belt to the outline of him straining against denim.