Pretty one.
Excuse me?
I’d laughed it off at the time, tried to play it cool, but now? I can’t even pretend to focus on the movie. Not with him sitting beside me like this—legs spread, posture relaxed, one arm casually thrown across the back of the couch. He’s close enough that if I lean even a little to the left, my shoulder will brush his. And now that I’m aware of it, I can’t stop noticing. The heat of him. The steady rise and fall of his breathing. The occasionalshift that makes the cushions dip just enough to remind me he’sright there.
When I move to get more comfortable, one leg starting to cramp under Teddy’s weight, his voice rumbles beside me.
“Cold?”
“Maybe a little,” I say, even though I’m not. Not even remotely.
Sebastian grabs the throw from beside him, gives it a little shake, then drapes it over the both of us. His fingers skim my knee on the way down, and I have to physically bite the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting.
Teddy’s out cold now, tucked under his own little blanket cocoon. We should probably move him to bed, but neither of us does. The movie keeps playing, the glow from the screen casting flickering colours over the room, and we just… sit. Like this. It’s domestic. It’s comfortable. It’s dangerous.
My positioning is awkward, one leg half-tucked under me, and I’m hyper-aware of it now. Then, as if he hopped right into my mind and heard my thought, Sebastian gathers my legs without warning and eases them across his lap, like he’s done it a hundred times before.
“You’ll be more comfortable like this,” he says with a finality that leaves no room for debate. Not that I was going to protest, for the record. His hand slips beneath the blanket and starts this slow, lazy glide along my calf. Innocent at first. Barely there. Until it’s… not. His palm smooths over my knee, then keeps going, tracing higher and higher until it rests just shy of the no-go zone. And I swear to God, my entire body goes static.
My pulse hammers. My lungs forget how to do the whole inhale-exhale thing. I am no longer watchingThe Lion King. I am watchingThe Man Beside Me Turn Me Into Goo.
Of course, Teddy chooses this exact moment to shift in his sleep—a tiny noise, a little twitch of his fingers against the blanket, just enough movement to shatter the universe.Sebastian pulls back like someone yanked him by the collar. A faint frown pinches between his brows, his hand vanishes from beneath the blanket, and the warmth he left behind cools too quickly.
The spell snaps clean in half.
He clears his throat, his voice low. “I should take him up.”
“Right,” I say, trying not to sound like I’m mourning the moment. I drag in a breath that’s all kinds of uncooperative. “And I should probably head home before my mum calls in a search party.”
The deep timbre of his laugh slips out, the kind that buzzes low in my belly. “The joys of living at home,” he teases.
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t act like you’re some senior citizen. You’re what… thirty now?”
He tips his head, one brow arching. “Thirty-four, sweetheart.”
I blink. Huh. I’d just assumed he was younger than Bradley. Not older. Not that it makes a difference, except… it kind of does. “Oh.”
“That close enough in age to you?”
“Uh… not exactly.”
Not even a little bit.
He hums a sound—God help me, a sound that should not be that attractive coming from a man who’s got a solid seven years on me. Suddenly, I’m far too aware of the heat still lingering on my skin. Of how grounded he is. Calm. Certain. Very much aman.
And me? I feel like a girl with a teenage crush who just got caught doodling his name in the margins of her school book. Whatever delusional part of my brain that assumed he was around my brother’s age needs to pack its bags and leave immediately. It’s setting me up for disaster.
He stands and lifts Teddy with the kind of practised grace that shouldn’t be hot—but of course, it is. The little guy meltsinto him instantly, mumbling something sleep-soft against his chest. Sebastian shifts his hold gently, presses a kiss to his son’s temple, and I swear, my ovaries file for early retirement. When he looks back at me, there’s something unguarded in his expression.
“Night, Bash,” I whisper, keeping my voice low so I don’t wake Teddy.
His mouth curves. “Drive safe, Trouble.”
My fingers tighten around my keys, and I offer a small nod. That’s all I’ve got, because my brain? Fried. My ovaries? Screaming. And my heart? Racing like it’s trying to warn me. Of what? Who knows. The only thing I am certain of, as he disappears up the stairs with his son cradled in his arms, is that no amount of logic is ever going to talk me out of wanting him.
24
Sebastian
