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I blush. “Angels, huh?”
A soft smile plays on his lips as he scratches at his beard. “I’m a fan. Mom’s always had a print hanging over the stove. White robe, golden wings, the whole deal. When nan passed, I’d find her talking to it while she cooked, passing on updates of our lives, that sort of thing. And I get it. I’m not as spiritual as her—I make my own fate—but she’s one of the strongest women I know.” Sebastian’s gaze meets mine. “So they remind me that courage is less about fighting battles and more about inner strength. It’s something you have in common.”
Oh. My heart contracts, and I rub at my chest.
“Do you believe in heaven?”
He sighs. “I didn’t used to. I’ve never been religious. I don’t think I ever could be. But when I think about being able to see her again? After? Yeah, I want there to be a heaven. If it means seeing the people I love again, I hope there is.”
I know exactly what he means. Family is as important to him as it is to me.
“I hope so too. But I sometimes wonder if it’s better to think there’s only one chance at life. We have to make the most of it, experience as much as possible in the time we have.”
He smiles. “Like buying a house on a whim?”
“It wasn’t a whim,” I remind him. “But yes.”
I want to pour his chuckle into a bath and soak in it.
“Am I the only one being interviewed here, or do I get to ask you questions?”
“Of course you do.”Ask me anything, I want to say. Let me bare myself to you.
“What are you most afraid of?”
“I…” I can’t say it, but I want to.
He had to be thinking it. Had to be.
It’s the way he leaned back, his gaze locked and never leaving mine, one leg kicked out, the other bent, hand resting on his thigh. Like he’s lying in wait. I watched a documentary like this once, about the Masai Mara. The journalist had traveled for days. They caught a leopard asleep in the shade of a tree, lions resting after a feed, but hadn’t caught a hunt on camera. They’d been hoping to catch a cheetah in action, especially since two had been spotted in areas nearby, but they had no luck. Then, on the last day of the safari, there he was. Crouched in wait. Energy preserved until the timing was right.
Sebastian sits back, eyeing me like a prize meal, and the only thing I don’t know is which one of us I want to pounce first.
In the end, I can’t form the words.
“Never mind.” I stand, ready to retreat back to my room, back to familiarity.
“Wait.” He curls his hand around my wrist, not squeezing, simply holding me in place. Surely he can feel how fast my pulse is going. “You were going to say something just now. What was it?”
I roll my tongue over my lip slowly, thinking. Stalling. “I…” I trail off, caught on his lips.
“Tell me,” he rasps.
I want to run my fingers over the worn grooves of his jeans, trace the outlines of every tattoo and follow it withmy lips. I want to be pinned by his hands the same way I’ve been held by his gaze—hot and hungry and like I’m the center of everything.
“I thought of something I’m afraid of.”
He licks his lips, and my gaze jumps there. Sticks.
“Come here.” He barely needs to direct me. Truth be told, I think I’d follow Sebastian anywhere, and when the destination is his lap, it comes easily. “Close your eyes.”
They fall shut.
“Tell me what you want.”
“Sebastian,” I whisper.
Dropping my wrist, he leans in, nose grazing my cheek, his voice low and raw. “Is that what you want? Me?”
