Page 90 of Shark’s Pride

Suddenly, a giggle bubbled up out from my lips. Bas regarded my reaction while tucking the cover around our naked bodies. “Have I fucked you silly, woman?”

“Maybe.” I snickered. “I was just laughing at the two of us here on the floor, when the perfectly amazing bed is right there.”

“Hmmph,” he growled, though humor still glittered in his gorgeous blues. “Mattresses are overrated.” He took my lips in a slow-burn kiss that literally curled my toes. “Better traction on the carpet.”

I rolled my eyes, but just talking about “traction” had the man’s penis jerking anew against my thigh. Before he could start with the magical hip rolls and do something about it, I pinned him with a more sober stare. “How are you doing?” I ventured while stroking a hand up and down his muscular back. “Are you excited about tomorrow? Nervous?”

“A little of both.”

His admission came as a pleasant surprise. Not the words but the comfort level with which he’d given them. Our conversations had become so much simpler lately. More authentic. The openness wasn’t just a necessity anymore, forced by the hand of fate—not to mention the faceless forces who were trying to get under Sebastian’s skin.

While they had yet to succeed, it seemed I had—at least a little. It felt like he gave me a bit more trust with each passing day. He was also freer about sharing exactly what was on his mind. Bas was letting a lot more of his guard down around me, though I could tell that the gesture wasn’t always easy for him. But he was trying, and that fact alone gave me more hope for our relationship’s future than anything else.

“Well, that’s honest,” I supplied.

“Damn straight it is,” he stated, attempting another hopeful nudge against my thigh. For the moment, I ignored the action. The subject at hand was important here.

“I appreciate it,” I told him and meant it. “And I also empathize with where you’re at. You’ve been working for this moment for so long. At last you’re breaking ground on the Edge. So yeah, I’d think some nerves would be expected, even for someone like”—I dropped my tone to a teasing manly man bass—“the mighty and powerful Sebastian Shark.”

At that, a low snarl rumbled out of Bas—as he dinged a silent timer on the wait time for rolling back on top of me. He covered me completely with the weight of his body, enforcing the domination by stretching my arms above my head. “Are you making fun of me, Abbigail Gibson?” His voice was lethally calm as he pinned my wrists harder to the floor. Instantly and shamelessly, my core pulsed. My eyelids felt heavy and drugged. Lust spiked my entire system.

“Bas.” My voice was barely a whisper.

“Oh, Little Red.” He dipped in and kissed me, slowly working my lips apart with his. “What kind of spell do you have on me?”

He pushed his tongue inside my mouth as though we hadn’t been kissing and fondling and fucking just seven minutes ago. My whole body trembled beneath his again. My pussy ached for his attention.

“I don’t know what’s happening either,” I confessed. “It’s madness.” I pushed my hips up to him but wanted to offer more. So much more.

“Madness. Hmmm. Well, that’s one way to describe it. But in a very, very good way.”

He finished that with a devastating smile. My lips inched up in response. I couldn’t help myself. His grin was so boyish, irresistible, and sexy. I acknowledged the continuing meltdown of my bloodstream, feeling my self-control slip away. The new heat across Bas’s face was another encouragement. I was seconds away from giving him the words he visually demanded.

Do it. Fuck me again.

But I gulped the syllables back down into silence. I really wanted to give him the opportunity to talk about the Edge’s groundbreaking ceremony. It was less than twenty-four hours away now—and even now, with our lust practically spoonable on the air, I could see the gears in Bas’s head at work. He had at least five mental lists going at the same time. I wanted to be here for him with more than just my pussy. To listen if he had any logistical or motivational concerns. To assure him he really was going into this important day with his best foot forward.

“So, tell me what you’re nervous about.”

For the trouble of my honesty, I received a narrowed glower. “What makes you think I’m nervous?”

“Because you’re still trying to redirect my attention with the power of your…”

His eyes glittered brighter. “Say it, baby. My cock.” He pressed his wakening erection into the inside of my thigh. “Is it working?”

“Sebastian.” I drew out the middle syllable with deliberate chastisement. Maybe his physically controlling position would make it okay for him to admit emotional vulnerability. Even now. Maybe especially now.

Sebastian let his eyes slide closed for a moment. Then two. I waited through the pauses, sensing him switching mental gears.

“I just want everything to go well,” he finally confessed. “The press loves to hound me, you know?”

I feigned a shocked gape before deadpanning, “I had no idea. At all.”

He meshed our fingers tighter while jacking his brows higher. The intensity of his gaze had me bracing for some kind of retaliation, but he chose to continue with the explanation—at least for now. “You’ve been doing enough private parties for enough rich assholes to know this by now. There could be twelve perfect parts about the event, preceding one aspect that isn’t, and that one misstep is the night’s headline. Nobody cares if it’s the most insignificant detail.”

I ditched the deadpan for an understanding nod. He was right; I’d routinely witnessed this nonsense. The press was a brutal bunch who knew how humans liked feasting on failure.

“Right,” I murmured back to him. “I get that too.”