His eyes darken at my plea, satisfaction flashing across his features. "Please what, Mia? Tell me what you want."
"Touch me." I’m well aware I’m begging but I one-hundred percent past the point of pride or pretense. "I need you to touch me."
His fingers trace higher, ghosting over the damp fabric covering me, but never applying the pressure I'm desperate for. Just the barest hint of contact, enough to make me gasp but not enough to give any satisfaction.
"Like this?" he asks, voice deceptively innocent as his fingers slide back down to my thigh, abandoning the place I need them most.
I make a frustrated noise, somewhere between a growl and a whine. My hips chase his touch, seeking friction that isn't there. I'm wet—embarrassingly so—and I know he can feel it through the thin fabric of my underwear.
"You're cruel," I pant, the accusation lacking any real heat when I'm practically writhing against him.
"No," he murmurs, his free hand coming up to cup my face with surprising tenderness. "I'm patient. There's a difference." His thumb brushes over my lower lip. "And you, Mia, deserve patience. Deserve to be worshipped properly, not rushed against a wall like we're teenagers."
The contrast between his words and actions—between the gentle touch on my face and the deliberate, maddening teasing between my legs—is driving me insane. I'm caught between wanting to slap him and wanting to beg him never to stop.
"What if I want to be rushed?" I challenge, my voice breathier than I'd like. "What if I've spent the last week thinking about you fucking me against a wall?"
His control slips, just for a second—a flash of raw hunger that makes my heart skip—before his expression settles back into that predatory intensity. His hand slides back up my thigh, this time with more purpose, and I gasp in anticipation.
Just as his fingers slide beneath the edge of my underwear, Sebastian abruptly steps back. The sudden loss of his heat against me is like a bucket of ice water, shocking my system. I stumble slightly, my back still pressed against the brick wall, lungs struggling to remember how breathing works. For a moment, I think I've imagined the whole encounter. That my Sebastian-obsessed brain has finally snapped and created this elaborate fantasy, but the throb between my legs is too real, too insistent to be anything but the result of his deliberate torture.
"What—" I start, but the word comes out as more of a gasp than a question. I blink rapidly, trying to clear the haze of lust from my mind.
The bastard actually takes another step away from me, putting enough distance between us that I can no longer feel the heat radiating from him. His eyes travel slowly down my body, taking in my disheveled state with an intensity that makes me simultaneously want to cover myself and strip completely naked for him.
I follow his gaze, suddenly aware of how I must look. My dress is hiked up almost to my waist, revealing my emerald lace underwear. My chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, breasts straining against the thin fabric that's somehow shifted to reveal more cleavage than I intended to show tonight.
I look thoroughly ravished. And he's just... standing there. Watching me.
"What the hell are you doing?" I demand, my voice breathless and incredulous as I tug my dress back down to a semi-respectable length. "Are you just going to tease me and then walk away?"
Is this just another mind game? Build me up only to cut me down? My body still hums with unfulfilled desire, nerves endings screaming for his touch to return, but a seed of anger starts to bloom beneath the want.
Sebastian's expression shifts, something darker and more predatory settling over his features. His jaw tightens, eyes narrowed slightly as they lock onto mine. He doesn't speak immediately, just studies me with that intensity that somehow manages to be both hard and hungry at the same time.
When he finally answers, his voice is lower than I've ever heard it. "No."
One word. Just one. But delivered with such conviction that it sends a fresh wave of heat between my thighs.
He takes a step toward me, then stops himself, hands flexing at his sides like he's physically restraining himself from touching me again. "I'll ruin you slowly," he continues, each word deliberate and precise. "That's how this goes."
My breath catches in my throat. "How what goes?"
"Us." His eyes never leave mine. "You and me, Mia. This thing between us that I've been fighting since the moment you walked into my department."
A small, rational part of my brain tries to remind me of all the reasons this is a terrible idea—he's my boss, he's been treating me like dirt, this could destroy my career—but that voice is getting fainter by the second, drowned out by the thundering of my pulse and the ache between my legs.
"I'm not going to fuck you in an alley," Sebastian continues, his crude language a sharp contrast to his usual precise vocabulary. "Not the first time. Not any time. When I finally have you, it's going to be in a bed. My bed. Where I can take you apart piece by piece, where I can see every inch of you, where I can hear every sound you make when I'm inside you."
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "What makes you think I'm going to let you do any of that after how you've treated me?"
His lips curve into a smile that's more predator than amusement. "Because you want it as much as I do." He steps forward again, closing the distance between us in one fluid movement. "Because despite everything, despite how much of an absolute bastard I've been, your body still responds to mine like it was made for me."
Before I can form a coherent response, he surges forward and captures my mouth in a kiss that's nothing like the ones before. This isn't exploration or even passion, it's possession. He grips my hips, fingers digging into the flesh with enough pressure to leave marks, and, so help me, I hope they do. I want physical evidence that this wasn't just another feverish dream.
His tongue claims my mouth with the same authority he commands in the hospital, and I surrender to it completely, hands clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin through his shirt. The kiss is hard, demanding, leaving no doubt about his intentions. I'm dizzy with want by the time he finally pulls back, both of us breathing like we've run a marathon.
Sebastian's eyes are nearly black now, pupils dilated so wide there's just a thin ring of brown around the edges. His hands stay on my hips for a moment longer, fingers flexing once, twice, before he forces himself to step back again.
