He took a sharp breath, nudged my legs wider, and kissed me harder than before. “Condom,” he grated out. “Backpocket.”
I felt around his ass for his wallet, tossing it aside once I’d extracted the condom. “Can I put iton?”
“I don’t know, can you?” he asked, maneuvering out of his jeans. “You have such smallhands.”
I watched in awe as he stripped down to a pair of white boxer briefs, his erection straining against the cotton. “Tell me you’re wearing a cup,” Isaid.
“A cup? Why would I . . .” His brows knit as he looked down at himself. “That’s all me,Georgina.”
It was bulging, reaching for me, almost hostile. I’d obviously been distracted when I’d had my hands down his pants just now or I would’ve feared for my safety. “Welcome to the major leagues,” I murmured as I opened the foilpacket.
He laughed, his eyes glued to me as I reached into his underwear and began to roll it on. The period and parentheses that normally softened his face faded, leaving the sharp jawline and focused eyes of a man who knew what he wanted—and was looking right atit.
He scanned my body. “So many,” hemurmured.
So many. I knew at once what he meant, because until tonight, it was one of the only comments he’d ever made on my appearance. “Counting the number of offendingfreckles?”
“Offending?” heasked.
“That day at the park, you were disgusted bythem.”
“I don’t remember what I said, but I was hardlydisgusted.”
“Word for word, ‘You have all these little fucking freckles. It’s like someone sprinkled you with cinnamon to serve you up asbreakfast.’”
He laughed as if I’d repeated a joke back to him. I kept a straight face. I’d been annoyed by it then, and I was annoyed now. I covered my chest. “I’m sorry if you don’t like them, but they’re not goinganywhere.”
“Don’tlike them?” He was still laughing. “God, I guess in a way, I don’t. Because I lovethem.”
“That makes nosense.”
“If I sounded angry when I said that, it was simply because they weren’t mine.” He moved one of my hands away and traced a fingertip over my collarbone. “I didn’t have access to them, and I wanted it.” He kissed a few of the spots that dotted my chest, and I moved my other arm away. “I knew it,” he said with reverence. “Youtastelike cinnamon too, on a coldnight.”
I squirmed under his regard. “All this time, I thought you hated them like myex.”
“Now Iknowhe’s braindead. I’ll only hate them at work, when they’re driving me crazy from across the conference table.” He worked his way up my neck and ran the tip of his nose along the bridge of mine. “When I want to kiss the ones here. And count the ones lower, on yourknees.”
“I don’t have freckles on myknees.”
“You have a few,” he said. “I looked that first morning. They’re so fuckingsexy.”
“Sexy?” I asked a little louder than I meantto.
“Mmm. During tomorrow’s morning meeting, I’ll be fantasizing about my mouth on each and every one of them. I’ll tastecinnamon.”
I wrapped my legs around his waist and slid my toes under the waistband of his boxer briefs. “Can we take these off?” Iwhispered.
He pushed them down, removing the final layer between us. I couldn’t look. It’d been so long since I’d been with anyone, and just the outline of him wasintimidating.
Sebastian positioned the head of himself between my legs. “You are so . . .” He stared down at me. “Whatever words exist pastbeautiful.”
“And you call yourself awriter.”
He pressed into me. “Dazzling. Strong. Beautifuladinfinitum.”
I inhaled deeply. Sebastian was big, and Lu had been correct—I might’ve been revirginized. At least, it felt that way in the moment. I couldn’t take him all at once, but “beautiful ad infinitum” wasn’t a bad way to be opened up, to marry big and small, hardness andsoftness.
Once he was halfway in, he drew back and pushed deeper. “Is it too soon to ask about the Double-Fisted FlyingSquirrel?”
