"Stay right here," he murmurs, easing himself off the bed.
I try to protest as his warmth leaves me, but my limbs refuse to cooperate, heavy and useless in the aftermath of the most intense orgasm of my life. I hear water running in what must be the adjoining bathroom, and then he's back, gathering me into his arms with surprising gentleness for a man of his size and strength.
He carries me into a sleek, modern bathroom—all glass and chrome and clean lines, like the rest of his apartment—and sets me on my feet in a shower big enough for four people. My legs wobble, but his arm around my waist keeps me steady as warm water cascades over us from multiple showerheads.
His touch is gentle as he moves over my body, washing me with reverent care. There's nothing sexual in the touch now, just tenderness that makes my throat tight with unexpected emotion. He massages shampoo into my hair, his strong fingers working against my scalp in a way that has me practically purring with contentment.
"You were incredible," he murmurs, his lips brushing my temple as he rinses the suds from my hair. "So brave, so beautiful. Perfect."
The praise washes over me, warming me from the inside out. I lean into him, letting him support my weight as exhaustion begins to set in.
When we're both clean, he wraps me in a towel big enough to be a blanket, drying me with the same careful attention he's shown all night. My eyes grow heavy, the events of the day catching up to me all at once.
When he carries me back to bed and slides in beside me, he gathers me against his chest. One arm curls protectively around my waist while the other cradles my head. I feel his lips press against my damp hair, hear him murmur something too soft to catch as sleep begins to claim me.
As I drift off, wrapped in his warmth, a realization hits me with startling clarity. I'm falling for Sebastian Walker, hard and fast and completely. The thought should terrify me, should send me running for the hills. Instead, as consciousness slips away, I curl closer into his embrace, surrendering to this new, unexpected vulnerability with the same trust I'd given him in our most intimate moments.
And that, more than anything that happened tonight, is what scares me most of all.
Chapter 29
Sebastian
Mia’s still deep in sleep, one arm flung across my stomach, her breathing slow and even against my skin. The sheet has slipped down to her waist, revealing the pale curve of her back and the freckles across her shoulders that I traced with my tongue last night. My cock stirs at the memory, but I push the desire aside, content just to watch her for now.
Last night replays in my mind but what lingers most is the moment she guided my hand back to her throat and told me she trusted me. Three words that shouldn't hit harder than a declaration of love and yet they do. Because trust isn't given easily. Trust is earned, built slowly over time.
My chest tightens and I carefully extract myself from her grip, easing my body away from hers with slow, deliberate movements that won't disturb her sleep. She makes a small sound of protest, her hand instinctively reaching for the warmth I'm taking away, but she doesn't wake. Instead, she burrows deeper into my pillow, nose crinkling slightly before her features smooth out again.
Standing beside the bed, I take a moment just to look at her. At the tangled mess of curls spreading across my sheets like wildfire. At her lips, lush and pink, parting on a soft exhale.
Something unfamiliar and dangerously close to tenderness unfurls in my chest, and I force myself to turn away before I climb back into bed and wake her in ways that would definitely make us both late for work.
The kitchen is still spotless from yesterday's cleaning service, gleaming surfaces and empty countertops that highlight how rarely I actually cook here. I pull ingredients from the refrigerator, moving with quiet efficiency as I crack eggs into a bowl and drop bread into the toaster.
As the eggs cook and the bread toasts, I slice an oranges and squeeze fresh juice into two glasses.
I'm just sliding the food onto two plates when I hear the soft pad of bare feet against hardwood. Looking up, I nearly drop the spatula.
Mia stands in the doorway, wearing nothing but my shirt from last night, the hem barely reaching mid-thigh. The top three buttons are undone, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of collarbone and the curve of her breast. Her hair is a mess, and her face is soft with sleep.
She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my kitchen. In my apartment. In my life.
"Morning," she says, voice still groggy. "Something smells amazing."
"Just eggs and toast," I reply, suddenly self-conscious about the simplicity of the meal. "And juice."
Instead of heading for the breakfast bar where I've set out plates, she walks directly to me. Before I can react, she wraps her arms around my neck and presses her body against mine.
"Showoff," she murmurs against my lips. "Making breakfast like some domestic god while I drool into your pillow."
Then she presses her mouth against mine in a kiss that sucks the air from my lungs. My hands find her waist, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. The kiss deepens, her tongue sliding against mine with a languid intensity that short-circuits my brain. And all I can think about is carrying her right back to bed and forget about breakfast entirely.
Before I can act on that impulse, I pull back slightly, needing to ask the question that's been nagging at me since I woke up.
"About last night," I start. "Was it too much?"
She cuts me off with another quick kiss, her green eyes bright and clear as she looks up at me. "It was absolutely perfect," she says without hesitation. "All of it." Her hand comes up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing against my stubble. "I meant what I said, Sebastian. I trust you."
