I pause.
Then look back.
I’m met with glistening eyes.
“You don’t have to choose,” she repeats. So soft— like a prayer. Her fingertips skim my sleeve. Her lips whisper a kiss on my cheek. Then she brushes past like smoke, disappearing inside.
My ears ring. It’s all I can hear. White noise. Because she can’t mean what I think she’s implying. She can’t. That’s an unforgivable sin. Grounds for excommunication. Insanity.
Maybe all three of us are going mad.
Thirty-Seven
CADE
Holy fuck,all I want to do is come. And come. And fuckingcomealready.
Reclined against the headboard of Sebastian’s bed with my knees pulled up, I tease two fingers over my hole, dragging them in agonizing circles. Then up my shaft to my tip. The real torture— as if these featherlight touches weren't maddening enough— starts l when I thumb my slit.
My head falls back. “Ohhh fuck, I need to come.”
The door blows open with a bang, revealing a six-foot-something wall of muscle and fury.
I smile. “You’re home.”
Sebastian charges, dark eyes sweeping me. On instinct, I arch like a slut. Those strong hands grasp my face and tilt my head in all directions, searching for something. Next, he grabs my wrists and turns them over.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure you’re alright,” he snaps.
Sebastiancaresabout me. I think I have heart eyes.
He cuffs my throat. “I told you totextme, notsextme! Are you insane? I was at a church event!” He jerks my chin up with histhumb. My dick leaks. I’m way too keyed up to be manhandled like this.
“You got hard for me at Jesus' house, didn't you?”
His upper lip curls. “This isn’t a fucking joke, Cade. I had to lie to the pastor and leave early because Andrea saw your picture.”
Another gush of precum.
“Did she like it too?”
He releases me with a shove before fisting the jersey and bringing us nose to nose. “You’re not listening. She knows something’s going on here.”
My gaze lingers on his mouth. “Whatisgoing on here, Sebastian?”
An actual growl rumbles from his throat. He’s too easy to rile up.
“You. Getting under my skin.”
Biting my lip, I glance between us. “That’s not the only thing I wanna get under.”
His glare is pitch black.
“You’re a fucking heathen.”
“And you wanna come to hell with me,” I purr. His harsh pants roar over the electric rock song playing from my phone, tasting like champagne and mint gum. My lips part, desperate to inhale each of his exhales. I want him. I want him so fucking bad it's disgusting.
