I was so worked up, I didn’t even realize I’d said “our” when talking about the community. A community I hadn’t told anyone but my sister, my therapist, and my agent that I was a part of.
Sebastian’s face turned red, and a vein popped in his forehead. “Fuck you, Taylor.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
His eyes darkened, and he leaned close enough that I could feel his breath on my face. His head swiveled to survey our surroundings—a quick check of the bartender polishing glasses ten feet away, the couple at the table behind us. When he seemed satisfied that no one was watching us, his hand shot out and landed on my knee, his thumb pressing down and then sweeping higher.
“Is that you offering?” he asked, moving close enough that I could see that his pupils had crowded out the amber of his irises.
I glanced down at his lap. He was hard—unmistakable so.
My mouth watered.
I might not like Sebastian Carruthers, but Iwantedhim. Probably always would.
His grip on my knee loosened as the waitress set another glass of bourbon at his elbow. He picked it up and drank half of it in one long pull, his eyes never leaving mine. I noticed his hand wasn’t steady.
“You still suck cock like a champ?” he asked casually, his free hand finding my thigh again, his thumb sweeping slow, lazy circles just below the outline of my erection.
I wanted to lie, make him think those months together hadn’t been the best damn sex of my life.
But I couldn’t.
“Not since you,” I admitted, my eyes moving over his face. “Onlyfor you.”
Something that might have been surprise flickered across his face, but it was gone before I could be sure.
His thumb pressed harder, and I shivered.
“I hate you,” he said, his focus dipping to where his hand moved against me, his breath coming faster.
“I hate you too,” I whispered in return, the words feeling wrong on my lips.
A few more strokes of his thumb, and I let out a low moan. It was entirely possible I was going to come in my pants like a horny twelve-year-old if he kept this up.
“I have a room.”
“So do I.”
It overlooked the parking lot and a bunch of dumpsters, while he was probably staying in a fancy-ass suite with a view. Though I didn’t think either of us cared too much about that right now. Not when the best view would be him naked and panting for me.
“One last time?” he asked, settling the full weight of his palm over me and squeezing.
I swallowed and nodded feebly. “For old time’s sake.”
CHAPTER 4
SEBASTIAN
Taylor stood quietly besideme as we waited for the elevator. I refused to look at him, but I could hear him breathing, the sound steady and controlled.
I envied that calm, especially now when I felt like I was coming apart at the seams. I couldn’t help it, though. Not with our last time together at the forefront of my mind.
That night, I’d traced every line of his face with my fingertips. Pressed my palm flat against his chest to memorize his heartbeat. Held on too long when he tried to pull away to get water, like letting go meant saying goodbye.
Which, ultimately, it had.
I hoped he wasn’t looking for that sort of tenderness from me tonight. I didn’t have it in me.
