I took his hands in mine, lacing our fingers together. “I’m so sorry.”
“What a fucking waste,” he whispered, his voice trembling.
I bent my head, kissing the knuckles on each of his hands, once, then again.
Sebastian choked out a sad-sounding laugh. “The truly absurd thing is it wasn’t just my dad—I had a secret life, too. A whole decade of pretending to be someone I wasn’t.” He paused, his mouth twisting. “Guess it runs in the family.”
“You’re nothing like him,” I said, untangling our fingers to settle a hand on the side of his face.
Sebastian curled into my touch, his eyes dropping closed. He looked so damn tired and defeated.
I leaned in and pressed my lips to his forehead, holding them there for a moment, then moved to his temple and the wet curve of his lashes. The sharp line of his cheekbone. Just loving him. Just being there for him.
“What can I do, baby?”
He hummed softly, but otherwise stayed quiet.
I hated the silence.
“Tell me what you need from me.”
He opened his eyes. “I need …” He swallowed hard, tired eyes tracing over my face. “I just … I want to make you feel good.”
I pulled back enough to look at him. “I’ll do anything you want, but it has to be about whatyouneed—not me.”
“I want out of my head. I want to forget, at least for a little while, that I’m the same person I was when I woke up yesterday morning.”
I thought about the man I’d watched these last few months take a failing campaign and turn it into a winning one. The man who went toe-to-toe with his parents last night. Who’d stood in that hotel suite and held himself together through sheer force of will while his entire life blew up around him.
“You are. You’re Sebastian Fucking Carruthers, and you are a goddamn badass.”
He gave me a flat look. “I don’t feel like a badass.”
Something clicked into place as I stared at him. Sebastian had spent the last twenty-four hours—hell, even the weeks before that—having every ounce of control stripped from him, and his instinct, even now, was to give up more rather than take.
I stood, softly pinching his chin between my thumb and forefinger, and tipped his head back. “You want to make me feel good, Seb?”
He nodded, his pupils dilating.
“Then use me. Fuck me like your life depends on it. Likeminedoes.”
“Tay,” he breathed out.
“That’s it. That's all I want from you, Seb.”
With a low growl, he surged to his feet, knocking me backward, his hands coming up to grip my face. “I fucking love you,” he said right before his mouth crashed into mine, his momentum carrying us into the wall at my back.
Eventually, he tore away, breathing hard, and began yanking his clothes off.
I matched him piece for piece, and when we were both naked and breathing hard, he turned, reaching for his toiletry bag and pulling out a bottle of lube. He thumbed it open, never breaking eye contact, and slicked himself up. “Turn around.”
I spun to face the wall, bracing my hands against it.
Sebastian pressed the full length of his body against mine and kissed my shoulder. “Tell me to stop.”
I shook my head, rolling my forehead against the rough wallpaper. “Never.”
He bit me where he’d just kissed me, and my cock jolted, pre-cum leaking from the tip.
