She searches my face, and I can see the uncertainty there, the fear of what exposure might mean for both our careers.
"We're really doing this?" she asks.
"We're doing this." I confirm. "
She grins, that full-wattage smile that first caught my attention weeks ago.
I'm about to kiss her when she pulls back and nibbles on her lower lip in that way that always makes my pulse quicken.
"What?" I ask, recognizing the look in her eyes.
"Well," she says, her voice dropping to that husky tone that never fails to affect me, "we have one more night before we have to face reality."
"We do," I agree, my hands tightening on her waist.
"And I've been thinking about something all day," she continues, her fingers playing with the collar of my shirt.
"Oh?" I raise an eyebrow, already knowing where this is heading and more than willing to follow.
She steps back, just out of reach, her eyes holding mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. "I'll be right back," she says, and disappears into her bedroom.
I wait, my heart rate climbing as anticipation builds. When she reappears a few moments later, my mouth goes dry.
Her body is draped in black lace that leaves little to the imagination. The lingerie hugs every curve. The bra is barely more than strategically placed lace, pushing up her breasts into perfect, creamy swells. The panties ride high on her hips, connected to lace stockings by thin garters that frame the soft curve of her stomach and the flare of her thighs.
My mouth goes dry. Blood rushes south so fast I feel dizzy.
"Holy fuck," I breathe, unable to form a more coherent response.
Her teeth catch her lower lip, uncertainty flickering across her face despite the bold statement her body is making. "I bought this months ago," she admits, one hand fidgeting with the strap of her garter. "Never had the courage to wear it for anyone."
I can't move, can't speak, can only stare at her standing there like every fantasy I've ever had come to life. Her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, wilder than usual.
"Say something," she whispers, and I realize I've been silent too long.
I cross the distance between us in three long strides. My hands hover just above her skin, not quite touching but rather savoring the moment of anticipation.
"You are," I tell her, voice gruff, "the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
Relief and desire flash across her face, chasing away the uncertainty. When she speaks again, her voice is lower, tinged with a boldness that makes my cock throb against the confines of my jeans.
"Tonight I'm yours to command, to control." Her words send electricity racing down my spine. "I trust you, Sebastian. With all of me."
The simple declaration nearly brings me to my knees. I reach out at last, fingers tracing the delicate line of her collarbone.
"Then come here," I command softly, and watch with satisfaction as she steps forward without hesitation.
As I pull her against me, I know with absolute certainty that whatever challenges await us tomorrow—Henderson, the hospital, the gossip and judgment—we'll face them together.
But tonight, tonight is just for us.
Chapter 39
Sebastian
"You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
The words feel inadequate the moment they leave my mouth. Beautiful doesn't even begin to cover what Mia is standing before me in that black lace that barely conceals anything. Beautiful is for sunsets and paintings. What she is deserves a word that doesn't exist.
