Ruined (Barnes Brothers #4)(20)

Today wasn’t the first time she’d seen him wasted, but it was definitely a little different.

When he finally looked at her and told her to just leave, she’d almost done it.

But something was eating at him and friends didn’t leave friends to face their demons alone.

Instead of listening, she cupped his face. “I’m not leaving you alone like this. You need to talk to me.”

“Talk . . .” He murmured it, turning the word over in his mouth as though he was unfamiliar with it.

He shifted, using his body to nudge hers around until she was the one standing with her back to the railing and Sebastien crowded in closer.

Warning began to sound in her head.

Not that fear sort of warning.

No.

Her head was sending out a different sort of alarm—it was going Oh, shit . . .

Sebastien caught her wrists, tugging them away from his face. She curled her fingers into her palms so that when he guided them to his chest, her hands were balled up into fists.

“You want to know what’s wrong, Marin?” he asked, pressing his face into her hair. “Want to hear all my problems? You’re so determined to help me out . . . is that it?”

“I . . .” She paused, taking a shaking breath, a breath exploded out of her when he pushed his thigh between hers. She thought she’d quiver and just wilt away when he placed one big palm on her hip and tugged her closer to him, tucking her pelvis against his.

Marin’s brain started to melt.

Oh. Shit.

Against her hip, she felt his cock pulsing and in response, everything inside her began to heat and pulse in answer.

“See . . .” Sebastien’s lips were just a breath from her ear, his voice low and gritty and raw. “This is my problem. I’ve wanted only to sink my dick inside you for . . . hell, I can’t even remember when it started, but we’re talking years, sugar. Years. You get close to me and that scent of yours fills my head and it’s all I can do to focus. Now here I am, half-drunk and focus is one thing I don’t have. I can’t focus. I just want to f*ck . . . and who do you think it is I’m wanting to . . . focus on?”

He caught her earlobe, tugged.

Marin sucked in a gasp. Without realizing it, she uncurled her fists, flexed her fingers, then tightened them again, now clutching the material of his shirt.

“I either need to be inside you or unconscious and I know there’s really only one option. You made yourself clear enough last year.”

He pulled away, but not before he raked his teeth down her neck.

A hard shudder racked Marin all the way down to her toes.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Sebastien, either. His eyes gleamed, but all he did was put a few more feet between them. “I think I could have you now. You want me,” he said. “But you don’t like it. What’s really shitty is that you’re here because you feel sorry for me. I don’t need that, Marin. So just . . . leave. Please.”

He turned his back on her.

She should have done as he asked. Left. Come back later.

But he was wrong. At least partially.

“I don’t like it.”

Sebastien kept walking.

“But you’re wrong. I’m not here because I feel sorry for you. I’m here because you’re my friend and you need somebody.”

“Yeah.” He grunted the word out, like he’d expected her to say nothing less.

“If the situation was reversed and I was the one needing somebody, would you be there?”

That made him stop.

His hands went to his hips, a stance that drew the shirt tight across his shoulders—well, tighter. He’d bulked up over the past year and the faded cotton was already straining. As he tipped his head back and stared up at the cloudless blue sky, Marin moved to cut him off.

His bleary eyes met hers.

“I don’t like wanting you.”

“So you’ve said.” He sounded harsh and his eyes looked wounded.

“You . . . Sebastien, you complicate everything. Way too much.” She could have told him more, but now wasn’t the time. “But if you think I’m here because I feel sorry for you, then you’re making me out to be much nicer than I really am. If I feel pity for somebody, I might drop by every now and then, or send a check or flowers or candy, but I don’t . . .”

The words froze in her throat, because she wasn’t sure she wanted to give him that much. It was a huge piece of herself and suddenly, she was afraid to reveal it. Forcing a smile, she said, “I’m not going to invest the kind of time I do with you just out of pity. What we have is friendship. Not pity.”

An awkward silence stretched out.

After a moment, he gave a terse nod. “Fine. So we’re friends.”

He went to go around her.

She laid a hand on his arm, feeling like something between them was still rough and raw—damaged.

He froze.

Just back away, Marin . . .

Looking into his blue-green eyes, Marin felt her heart start to race. There was a wicked, wild heat in his gaze, the kind that she’d never felt in her entire life. And it was directed at her.

He dipped his head, pressed his lips to her ear. “You need to back away, Marin. The things I want from you are a lot more involved than friendship. My control is shit today. If you keep . . .” His mouth grazed hers.