“Olivia,” he grits out, hips snapping up to meet mine. “You’re gonna make me—”
“I’m right there with you,” I breathe.
The orgasm tears through me like a live wire, curling my toes and stealing my breath. I cry out, clinging to him as his release follows suit, my name breaking from his lips in a low growl. Sebastian’s head drops to my shoulder, and my arms wind around his neck as the water stills around us.
We stay like that, tangled in silence. The only sounds are the soft lapping of water and the heavy beat of his heart against my chest. His hands still hold my hips, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.
He runs a slow hand up and down my back. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Better than okay.”
He kisses my collarbone, and I close my eyes, anchoring myself to the feeling. I don’t want to leave this moment. I don’t want to go back to pretending that this is casual. Because it doesn’t feel casual anymore. It feels steady, grounding, like something I could fall into if I let myself.
Likehome. That thought alone is enough to rattle me.
30
Olivia
Bed Chem - Sabrina Carpenter
“Are you feeling alright?”
I pause mid-step, spinning to find Nash and Toby standing behind me, both looking at me suspiciously, like I’ve grown a second head.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“You’ve been humming all morning,” Nash says, frowning.
“And whistling,” Toby adds, his brow furrowed like I’ve offended his very soul.
“And?” I blink at them. “Is that illegal now?”
They exchange a look. A full-body look. “We’ve gone all morning,” Nash starts slowly, like he’s afraid to spook me, “without being told off.”
Toby nods solemnly. “Not even once.”
Shit. Maybe I have been humming. And smiling. And—God help me—even letting things slide. My hand goes straight to my hip. “And what exactly is the problem with that?”
“You’re never this nice,” Toby deadpans.
“I am always nice,” I gasp.
Nash raises a brow, and Toby outright snorts.
“Oh, fuck you both.” I huff, waving them off. “I’ve just got a stupid song stuck in my head. So what?”
“Mhm,” they hum in perfect unison.
I narrow my eyes, then clear my throat and clap my hands. “Right. If you two are done psychoanalysing me, maybe go do your actual job?”
They laugh as they walk off, and Toby mutters, “Nice try, but it’s not the same,” just loud enough for me to hear.
I grab an apple from the sack and peg it square between his shoulder blades.
He yelps. Nash loses it.
“Keep talking, and I’ll throw one at you too,” I warn.
