“We’re a little early, Mike,” Sebastian says, stepping forward and letting go of my hand to shake his. “Hope that’s not a problem.”
“You paid for the whole night.” The guy shrugs. “Not a problem at all.”
“What’s happening?” I ask in a rushed breath that I swear is nothing but adrenaline. Oh my God, did he reserve the Ferris wheel all night? For us?
“We’re going on a little ride,” he replies and puts the tote bag over his shoulder. “I want to excite you.”
The guy opens the gate to allow us onto the wheel and Sebastian steps forward, but I don’t move. I’m scared of heights. Not terrified or phobic, but scared enough that I avoid them as much as I can. He looks back at me, curious.
“Please do not let Ainsley’s poisoned mind ruin this.”
I swallow and shake my head. Before I can explain the truth, he blinks, and a challenging smile starts to part his lips. He gets it. “You’re not scared, are you?”
“Heights are not my thing.”
He chuckles; it’s low and rough and tickles me deep in my gut. “You said one-night stands weren’t your thing, and yet you enjoyed the hell out of it.” He winks and, fuck, I want to slap him and kiss him again—at the exact same time. “You should give this a try too. I dare you.”
He fucking dares me? What are we? Infants. “You’re a little shit.”
“A little shit you can trust,” he counters and takes my hand, tugging my whole body with him as he walks through the gate and into one of the enclosed buckets. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
For some insane reason, I let him pull me in with him. My knees are shaking and it feels like my blood is rushing much too quickly through my body. Ireallydon’t like heights. He pulls me down gently onto the seat beside him and lets his lips graze my cheek softly. I hear him breathe in heavily as he nuzzles my hair fleetingly and it makes me shudder. He positions his bag on the floor between his feet and gives Mike a one-minute sign with his hand.
The seat is hard and cold and I stare at Sebastian as he digs around in the tote bag, and I try not to panic. He pulls out a large, soft, gray cashmere throw blanket and begins to drape it over both of us. I smooth my half over my lap. It’s as soft as a cloud. Seb digs back in his bag and comes out with a thermos and two metal camping mugs. He hands me one of the mugs as he unscrews the lid on the thermos. Steam curls up from it and he beckons for me to hold out my mug. As he pours the steaming liquid into my mug, the scent of chocolate fills my nostrils. And something else…something with a sharper scent.
He gives me a deep, almost dark smile and whispers. “Bailey’s and hot chocolate. It’ll keep you warm and calm your nerves.”
With the thermos stored back in the bag and both our mugs filled, he turns to Mike and nods. Mike walks over to the controls. I feel a rush of fear. “Sebastian, I don’t know about this…”
His eyes lock with mine and he smiles, but it’s smug. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever used my full name.”
Is it?
He leans closer; his lips brush my jaw. “You should say it next time you come.”
The wheel lurches forward and I let out a squeak of panic. He slides closer so our bodies are pressed to each other and his arm is around my shoulders. I feel instantly warmer and instantly calmer. Not totally relaxed but much better than a second ago. We both take a sip of our hot chocolate. It’s delicious. And the Bailey’s leaves a soothing warm trail down my throat on its way to my belly.
I keep my eyes on him, refusing to look out at our surroundings, which I’m sure are inching farther and farther away as the wheel chugs upward. He notices my intense, focused stare and grins his sexy, panty-wetting grin. “You’re honestly scared, aren’t you?”
“I’m not,” I argue, and his grin deepens because it’s ridiculous. Fear is plastered all over my face, I know it. “I just am not a big fan of heights.”
His grin is cocky and slightly arrogant. “I found something that throws you off balance. I like it.”
“I’m not off balance, Frenchie,” I retort to prove I’m just fine. Which I am so not. As I realize there is nothing in my peripheral vision but inky, black sky—the lights from the peer and the parking lot are gone—I press my hands harder against the warm mug to keep them from shaking.
“Look at the view,” he demands quietly, turning his face to scan the horizon. “It’s very pretty.”
“So are you,” I argue. “So I’ll keep my eyes where they are.”
His deep belly laugh fills the chilly air and causes the bucket we’re in to shake. My heart lurches and tightens in fear. I reach out and grab his knee. “Stop!”
He laughs harder, and I grip his knee so tightly it hurts my fingers. He uses his arm around my shoulders to pull me closer and nuzzles his face against my neck. I know he’s technically clean-shaven but it’s rough and gives me a delicious tickle anyway. My fear dims ever so slightly. “You must be terrified if you’re willing to hand me a compliment to keep from facing your fear.”
His words are dripping with such smug egotism I’m surprised they aren’t making a puddle at our feet. My competitive side roars to life, which also helps quell my fear. I am not going to let him feel like he’s got something over me here. “It’s got to be the lack of light. You look much better in the dark.”
He didn’t see that zinger coming and it shows as his cocky little grin slips, but then he laughs again and the bucket we’re in—now a million feet above the ground—rocks again. I make a weird little sound—like a gurgle of fear—and clutch his leg again, this time much higher than his knee. His laughter stops instantly. “Ma belle, if your hand gets any higher you’re going to death grip something that will ruin the night for both of us.”
Our eyes meet again. “Then stop shaking this death trap.”
