Heat coiled in my spine, building with every slide of our cocks. The pressure of his fist, the way he watched me—it was too much. I clenched my teeth, trying to hold on, but I couldn’t.
“That’s it. Give it to me.”
I came with a shout, and Sebastian followed not far behind, stroking us both through it, easing his grip just before it became too much.
He collapsed onto his back beside me, and I rolled my head on the pillow to look at him.
“Stay with me tonight?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost hesitant—as if he was afraid I might say no.
A lump formed in my throat, my brain screaming at me to slow down. A couple of hours ago, I’d hated this man—or, at least, thought I had. An hour ago, I’d learned that everything I’d believed about us was a lie. Hell. He’d confessed to having been in love with me. Past tense. But lying here, that love didn’t feel like something we’d left in the past. It felt very present.
I knew I should say no. Should get some distance and figure out what the fuck I was actually feeling before I did something stupid.
But I didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to see that hope in his face fade to disappointment. Didn’t want to walk away from him, even if staying meant risking everything.
Fuck it. I’d already jumped off the proverbial cliff by coming up to his room in the first place. I might as well see where I landed.
“Yeah, okay.”
CHAPTER 8
SEBASTIAN
The sun came up too damn soon,hitting me square in the face. I pried my eyes open, dry and gritty from too little sleep, and immediately regretted it. With a wince, I rolled my head to look at Taylor, who was sprawled out on his stomach, his far arm hanging off the side of the bed, the other draped over my stomach, his fingers curled into the trail of hair below my belly button.
The room still smelled faintly of the hotel’s harsh detergent, but beneath that was the musk of sex and the ghost of Taylor’s woodsy cologne. The hum of the air conditioner was steady and low, lending a chill to the room.
For a few seconds, I let myself float in that quiet, suspended space between the night we’d had and the day waiting to crash in. But habit tugged me toward the nightstand. I reached for my phone, expecting a barrage of texts from Wyatt, but there was only one, sent over an hour ago.
Wyatt
Celine and I flew out early.
You clearly have some stuff you need to figure out.
Take a couple of days to get your head on straight.
You know where you belong.
My jaw clenched as last night’s argument replayed in my head. Celine had been her usual cutting self, dismissing Taylor as “that goon” with a condescending laugh. I’d brushed her comment off; I was used to her brand of cattiness.
But then he’d looked me dead in the eye and used everything I’d ever told him about my feelings for Taylor to cut me down.
“Sebastian, my god. That guy?” He rolled his eyes, gesturing toward the closed double doors of their suite with a scoff. “I’m embarrassed for you right now. He’s so … what’s the word, darling?” He looked to Celine for guidance.
She lifted her slim shoulder in a shrug while staring down at her blood-red nails. “Basic?” she asked, glancing back up to meet my eyes.
Wyatt pointed at her. “Yes, basic. Exactly.” He turned back to me, his gaze raking over me with obvious disdain. “I honestly can’t believe you ever thought you were in love with him.”
That was the part that had pissed me off the most. Not the condescension or the disbelief. It was the complete disregard for my feelings. The way he so casually rewrote my history. My pain.
So I’d packed my bag and walked out, leaving them to do whatever it was they did when I wasn’t around.
I stared down at Wyatt’s text. The presumption—the casual certainty that I’d come crawling back after “getting my head on straight”—made my jaw clench.
I didn’t belong with him, and hadn’t for a long time, and I was fucking pissed that it’d taken me this long to come to terms with that. To grow a damn spine and get some self-respect.
My thumb moved across the screen.
