Straightening back up, I grip her hips with both hands and increase my pace. The need to claim her, to mark her as mine, grows with each thrust. My fingers dig into her skin hard enough that I know she'll carry the imprint of them tomorrow, and the thought only spurs me on.
I can feel my own release building at the base of my spine, the familiar tightening that signals I'm close to the edge. My pace increases even more, each thrust driving deeper, harder, chasing the climax that threatens to consume us both.
"That's it, baby," I growl, my hand sliding up into her hair, fingers tangling in those wild curls. "Take everything I give you."
I bend down, pressing my lips to her shoulder blade. Her muscles are taut beneath me, her body trembling.
"I'm close," she gasps. "Sebastian, I'm so close."
The sound of my name on her lips, broken and pleading, pushes me right to the precipice. I sink my teeth into the curve of her shoulder just as her body explodes around me and she screams my name into the sheets.
The sensation of her coming undone beneath me and the way she cries out, triggers my own release. It takes only two more strokes before I come so hard, my vision goes white as pleasure crashes through me in waves.
We collapse together, both of us breathing hard. I gather her against my chest, holding her close as the aftershocks ripple through us both. Her heart hammers against my ribs, gradually slowing as we come down from the high.
"Holy shit," she whispers against my neck.
I press a kiss to her temple, arms tightening around her. "Are you okay?"
She nods, tilting her head back to look at me. Her eyes are bright, satisfied, and completely trusting. "More than okay."
Something swells in my chest at her words, at the way she looks at me like I've given her everything she never knew she needed. Because maybe I have. Maybe we've given each other exactly what we were both searching for without even knowing it.
"Good," I murmur, brushing a strand of damp hair from her face. "Because I plan on keeping you like this for a very long time."
Chapter 40
Mia
My stomach twists into knots as I stare at the sliding doors where, just over a week ago, I stormed out in tears. Shifting my weight between my feet, I twist the strap of my bag between my fingers.
"Second thoughts?" Sebastian asks, his voice low and steady beside me. Unlike my fidgeting mess of nerves, he stands perfectly still, hands in the pockets of his tailored slacks, looking as if he's merely waiting for a coffee order rather than about to face potential career suicide.
"Only about sixteen per minute." I attempt a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. "What if Henderson laughs us out of his office? What if he's already replaced me? What if—"
"What if," Sebastian interrupts, facing me, "we go in there and handle whatever comes our way? Together, like we said."
"Together," I echo.
Sebastian reaches for my hand as we approach the sliding doors, his fingers interlacing with mine in a gesture so casual it takes my breath away. I hesitate for the briefest moment—thisisn't just walking into the hospital, this is announcing ourselves—before closing my fingers around his.
The doors whoosh open, hospital air rushing to greet us with its familiar antiseptic sting. Sebastian's grip tightens slightly as we step over the threshold together, and my heart hammers so loudly I'm certain everyone can hear it reverberating off the polished floors.
The morning shift is in full swing. Nurses bustle between stations, residents scurry with clipboards, patients wait in plastic chairs along the wall. It's all so achingly familiar that for a second, I almost believe I could slot back into place as if nothing happened.
But the illusion shatters when Nurse Rodriguez spots us from the check-in desk, her eyes widening comically before darting to our joined hands. She elbows the nurse beside her, whispering something that makes the other woman's head snap up.
"They're staring," I mutter, fixing my gaze on the bank of elevators ahead. My palm grows damp against Sebastian's, but he doesn't let go.
"Let them," he replies, his stride confident and unhurried, forcing me to match his pace rather than scurry like I want to. "Give them something worth talking about."
Easy for him to say. His reputation can withstand a few raised eyebrows. Mine feels as fragile as spun glass after my meltdown.
We pass Dr. Atwood from Neurology, who nearly drops his tablet at the sight of us. His gaze flicks from our hands to my face, then to Sebastian, mouth opening slightly before snapping shut without a word.
"Good morning, Dr. Atwood," Sebastian says smoothly, as if this is any other day, any other hospital encounter.
"M-morning," Atwood manages.
