Say the Word(32)
I really needed to get my spare key back from Fae.
Simon waved us over from the corner of the conference room, where he’d staked out three seats by the window. As soon as we’d settled in, he turned to me with wide, curious eyes.
“Lux, baby, who was that delicious man you were talking to earlier? I sensed a vibe.” He looked at Fae. “Did you sense a vibe, or was it just me?”
“There was definitely a vibe,” Fae noted.
“Very Tarzan and Jane,” Simon added. “So brooding and tortured.”
“No, to me it’s more a forbidden Victorian romance. Stolen glances and muted conversations,” Fae chimed in, adding her two cents.
“Guys!” I protested. “You don’t even know the real backstory yet.”
“Yes, baby, but that’s what’s so fun about it. We have all day to fill in the blanks with our guesses, and then all night to hear the real story,” Simon explained. Apparently, he was ditching one of the posh parties he typically frequented on Fridays in favor of crashing our girl’s night. “I can only hope that the reality lives up to my mental version,” he said.
“Did you see the way they looked at one another?” Fae asked him. “So tormented. So angsty. It’ll live up, I can tell.”
I huffed. “Well, maybe I won’t even tell you guys the story, since you’re enjoying your own speculation so much. Maybe you don’t deserve the real version.”
Fae and Simon looked at each other and burst into laughter simultaneously.
“I really hate you guys,” I muttered.
“No you don’t, baby,” Simon said, leaning in to kiss my left cheek.
“You love us,” Fae added, with a light arm squeeze.
I heaved a martyred sigh, but didn’t protest.
They were right.
Chapter Twelve
Then
“You’re crazy,” I whispered, attempting to tug my hand from Sebastian’s grip.
“Crazy for you,” he countered, leading me into his kitchen through the back patio door.
“You’re ridiculous.” I rolled my eyes.
“Ridiculously infatuated with you,” he revised, tugging me along behind him.
“Sebastian!” I protested. This was not a good idea.
“Lux!” he mimicked in a falsetto, towing me past gleaming stainless steel appliances.
“I hate you,” I whispered.
He spun around so fast I didn’t have time to react, and before I knew it I was pressed tightly between the countertop and Sebastian. His hard body dwarfed mine and I struggled to remain calm and collected, not wanting to reveal how much his closeness affected me. I felt my own inexperience rolling off me in waves of uncertainty, saturating the air around us. I clenched my clammy hands into fists, hoping he wouldn’t see through me. Praying he couldn’t tell that I’d never been this close to a guy before — besides Jamie, of course, but considering the fact that we shared nearly identical DNA, I wasn’t counting him.
Sebastian leaned down into my space, catching my eyes. Abruptly, he hitched his hands around my waist and lifted me so I was sitting propped on the countertop at eye level with him. I felt my lips part on an exhale as his hands skimmed lightly from my hipbones down to my kneecaps. Gently, he nudged my legs apart and stepped between them, so our bodies were flush against each other.
“You don’t hate me,” he whispered, his breath warm against my neck as his head dropped forward to rest in the hollow between my chin and my shoulder blade. Acting on some deeply ingrained instinct, I arched my head back to give him better access. His lips trailed down my neck to my collarbone, and I shivered. “In fact,” he continued between butterfly kisses. “I’m pretty sure you lo—”
“Sebastian Michael Covington!” The smooth southern accent did nothing to detract from the outrage in the voice that pierced the air and interrupted our moment. We instantly sprang apart, Sebastian stepping fully out of my space as I scooted forward off the counter and landed roughly on my feet with a jolt that made my arches ache.
“Hey, Mom,” Sebastian said, casually lifting one hand to rub the back of his neck and grinning at the scandalized woman standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Though my fashion knowledge was limited to trips to Walmart and the local Goodwill, even I could tell that her clothing was designer. I found it strange that she was wearing both high heels and a set of pearls despite the fact that she didn’t work and likely had been home alone all day, but what did I know about the glamorous life of the rich? Her platinum blonde hair was coiffed elegantly, and it was clear where Sebastian had gotten his looks — Judith Covington had bone structure any model would kill for and stunning blue eyes that nailed me to the floor with a single glance.
My cheeks were probably as red as hers, though from embarrassment rather than stark disapproval. I smoothed my hands through my hair self-consciously and forced my shoulders not to curl in on themselves, never more aware of my second hand boots and threadbare jacket than I was at that moment.
“Hello, Mrs. Covington,” I said with as much grace as I could muster, stepping forward and offering her my hand. Her gaze moved away from her blatant appraisal of her son and she seemed to fully register my presence for the first time. Her eyes widened as she took me in. I wasn’t what she’d expected, that much was obvious — not like Amber, or any of the other girls who came from money and would’ve been considered a good match for her son. Ignoring my outstretched hand altogether, her gaze swept down my form, pausing to take in each minute detail of my attire. Her lips tightened, a crosshatching of stern lines appearing in the flesh around her mouth that no amount of Botox could remove.