He has the audacity to chuckle, the sound rumbling from deep inside his chest. "I wouldn't dream of it."
We fall into silence again as he navigates through downtown toward my apartment. The quiet between us feels charged, electric with possibilities and unspoken words. I steal glances at his profile—the strong jaw now darkened with stubble, the slight furrow between his brows as he concentrates on driving, the fullness of his lower lip that was just on mine minutes ago.
When we pull up outside my building, I don't immediately move to get out. Neither does he.
"Come upstairs." The words escape before I can think better of them.
Sebastian's jaw tightens. "No."
The rejection stings more than it should. "No?"
"If I come upstairs right now," he says, his voice dropping to that dangerous octave that makes my insides melt, "I won't be able to keep my promise."
"Which promise is that?" I ask, genuinely confused.
His eyes meet mine, dark and intense. "The one about taking my time with you. About doing this right." His gaze drops to my mouth, then lower, to where my dress has ridden up my thighs again. "If I follow you inside, I'll have you against the nearest wall within thirty seconds."
The thought of him taking me against a wall sends a fresh wave of heat through my body. "That doesn't sound like a problem to me," I whisper, leaning closer to him.
He closes his eyes briefly, his chest rising with a deep breath. When he looks at me again, there's something dangerous in his gaze that makes me shiver.
"Trust me, Mia, when I say you deserve better than a quick fuck against your hallway wall." His voice is rough, strained with the effort of restraint. "Though I promise you'll get that too, eventually."
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "So what happens now?"
"Now," he says, reaching across to tuck a stray curl behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my cheek, "you go upstairs. Alone. You take a very cold shower. And you think about all the things I'm going to do to you when the time is right."
"And when will that be?" I can't keep the frustration from my voice.
His mouth curves into that maddening half-smile. "Soon. But not tonight." He leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. "Remember what I said. No touching yourself. That pleasure belongs to me now."
I pull back, meeting his eyes with defiance despite the heat pooling between my legs. "You don't own me, Sebastian."
"No," he agrees, his thumb tracing my lower lip. "But I will own your pleasure.”
With that, he gives me a quick kiss before leaning over me to open my door.
“Goodnight, Mia.”
There’s a strange sense of anticipation and giddiness flooding my veins as I step out of the car and watch him drive off.
I’m not sure what the heck I’ve gotten myself into but damn if I’m not excited to find out.
Chapter 16
Sebastian
The ceiling of my bedroom has exactly thirty-seven tiny cracks in the paint. I've counted them fourteen times in the past three hours, a futile attempt to focus on anything other than the relentless ache between my legs. My cock is so hard it hurts, throbbing in time with my heartbeat, begging for a relief I refuse to give. The sheets—fifteen hundred thread count Egyptian cotton that usually feels like sliding into liquid silk—are twisted around my legs, damp with sweat and as confining as restraints. I could free myself. Could wrap my hand around my cock and find release in seconds. But I won't. That's the whole fucking point.
The digital clock on my nightstand glares at me, its red numbers accusing. Almost five hours since I left Mia. Five hours of lying here, gripping these expensive sheets like they're the only thing keeping me tethered to sanity. My knuckles ache from the strain.
I shift, trying to find a position that doesn't make my erection press painfully against the mattress. The sheets slide against my bare skin, the friction alone almost enough to push me over theedge. I grit my teeth, jaw clenching so hard I can feel the muscle jump beneath my skin.
"Fuck," I whisper to the darkness.
Behind my closed eyelids, Mia's face appears with perfect clarity. Those green eyes, pupils blown wide with desire. The flush spreading across her freckled cheeks. The way her lips parted on a gasp when my fingers traced the edge of her underwear. But most of all, I remember her voice, that breathless, desperate "Please, Sebastian, please" that nearly broke my control right there in that filthy alley.
My cock twitches at the memory, and I tangle my fingers deeper into the sheets. No touching. That was the rule I set for her, and it applies to me too. If she's suffering tonight—and fuck me, I hope she is—then I'll suffer right alongside her.
