The Reluctant Heiress: A Novella(8)

His heavy sigh flutters the hair on my nape. I idly consider chopping it shorter than its current shoulder-length. Maybe a smooth shave. At least then I’d never have to feel his breath in my hair.

I listen for his departure. His shoe creaks on the deck. I melt with relief, then stiffen as his hands come down on the railing to either side of me. I’m encased, enveloped by his heat and scent. Vulnerable and small. Defenseless.

His head drops beside mine, lips in line with my ear. “I’m not giving up,” he whispers.

A step forward brings his body against mine. Hard against soft. I feel him, thick and virile through his pants, and can’t stop the small noise that squeaks from my throat. Only one man has ever been able to strip me of all power.

Then I remember that I’m not the same, stupid girl I was at twenty. And Sebastian needs to learn what happens when you play with fire.

I arch my back a little, providing friction that makes his breath catch. “Is this what you want, Bast?”

“Yes. No. I want to take you on a date.”

“No dates, Sebastian. Let’s not fool ourselves. There’s only one thing we’re good at. Besides fighting, that is.”

“Candace—”

“You know where I live,” I cut him off. “I’ll leave the front door unlocked. Bring condoms. I ran out yesterday.”

He makes a strangled sound between a laugh and a groan. “Vicious woman,” he whispers.

You made me this way.

“Take it or leave it.”

Alex’s confused voice shatters the moment. “What’s going on out here?”

Sebastian steps back as I turn with a smile for my brother. “Just admiring the sunset.”

He frowns, clearly unconvinced. “Well, get your asses inside. Dinner’s ready.” With a final, searing glance, he disappears into the house.

I take a sip of wine and watch a muscle tick in Sebastian’s jaw. He’s irritated and aroused, a thrilling combination.

We definitely aren’t children anymore.

“So?” I question lightly.

“If we weren’t standing on your brother’s deck, I’d bend you over right here.”

Glad to be leaning on the railing, I merely lift a brow. “Is that a yes?”

His eyes scan my face, burning a path to my mouth. “God help me, yes.” He glances at his watch and takes a step toward me. His body vibrates with suppressed need, so much that I quiver. “One o'clock. I want you naked in bed, wet and ready for me. The first round is going to be hard and fast.”

He spins on his heel and stalks into the house.

“Holy shit,” I whisper, squeezing my thighs to relieve the sudden pulsing between them.

What did I just do?





6





The rest of the party is a test in endurance. Sebastian doesn’t speak to me again, but his eyes follow me as I mingle. Undress me. Possess me. I forget names as soon as I learn them, laugh at jokes I don’t hear, and give a toast that brings tears to Thea’s eyes.

Inside, I’m a hot mess.

At just after ten, I tell Alex I have a headache and am going to head home. He offers me a guest room for the night, which I decline. As my first glass of wine was also my last, he thankfully doesn’t press the issue. I hug him and Thea, and the three of us make a date for lunch in L.A. next weekend. All while Sebastian watches me from across the room, dark eyes smoldering.

It’s a miracle I don’t get a speeding ticket driving home.

The garage door is still closing when I unlock the front door and run for the shower. I wash fast, shaving my legs and accidentally nicking myself on the ankle. Bleeding and panting, I dash out of the shower and into the closet for lingerie.

“This isn’t what I meant when I said naked and wet.”

I yelp and jump, knocking into hangers and losing my balance. The stage is set for a slow-motion mortification scene. The director yells Action! My arms pinwheel and I sprawl on my ass on the closet floor.

I stare up at a laughing Sebastian.

“Need a hand?”

I scramble to my feet. Not until I rub my sore backside do I realize I’m stark naked. With few options and no towel in reach, I finally settle on crossing my arms over my chest.

Sebastian’s grin falters and dies. “You’re bleeding,” he says curtly. I look down at the blood dripping from my ankle onto the floorboards.

“It’s noth—” I gasp as he lunges toward me and sweeps me into his arms, then strides to the bathroom counter and sets me down. I wince at the contact between cold marble and highly sensitive bits.

“Sebastian, it’s nothing. Just a little cut. They bleed a lot. You know, gravity.” Ignoring me, he runs water in the sink and sticks my foot under the faucet.

“Do you have any Band-Aids?” he asks, already rummaging through my medicine cabinet. “Never mind, found them.”

With gentle hands, he tends to the minuscule cut, dabbing it dry and applying a thick Band-Aid. Not once does his gaze veer to my naked self. By the time he’s done playing nurse, I’m annoyed.

I swing my feet to the ground, almost kicking him in the face. “Sebastian,” I snap. “Quit dissembling.”

He straightens, eyes narrowing. “Dissembling? You think I’m faking caring about you bleeding all over the floor?”