That smugness lasted about fifteen minutes before uncertainty crept in. Was the photo too much? Not enough? Did I misread this entire situation? Is he laughing at me?
Uncertainty gave way to humiliation around the one-hour mark. The kind that burns hot in your cheeks and makes your stomach clench.
And now? Now I'm just pissed.
“I’m going to fucking murder him,” I vow to Fitzwilliam.
My declaration would be more convincing if my body wasn't still humming with awareness, still aching for his touch. If I hadn't spent the entire day obeying his command not to touch myself.
"I need a shower," I decide abruptly. "A cold one. Cold enough to freeze these feelings right out of me."
I head toward the bathroom, already reaching for the hem of my shirt, when my phone chimes from the coffee table. The sound stops me in my tracks, heart suddenly pounding against my ribs.
I know it's him. I know it with a certainty that makes my stomach flip.
Turning back, I reach for the device with the same caution one might approach a bomb.
Sebastian:Open the door.
I stare at the words, not comprehending at first. Open my door? Why would I—
A sharp knock cuts through the silence of my apartment, so sudden and loud I actually jump.
No. He can't be. He wouldn't dare.
The knock comes again, more insistent this time. Three quick raps that somehow manage to sound commanding.
My heart is in my throat, pounding so hard I can feel my pulse in my fingertips, between my legs where the ache suddenly intensifies to near-painful levels. I stand frozen, staring at my front door like it might burst into flames at any moment.
He's here. Sebastian is here. At my apartment. After hours of silence, after leaving me on read, after driving me half-insane with frustration and fury and want.
The absolute audacity of this man.
Another knock, this one harder.
I take two steps toward the door, then stop. No. I'm not just going to answer like an obedient puppy when he calls. So, I grab my phone and type out a response instead.
Me:Why should I?
The reply comes instantly.
Sebastian:Because if you don't, I'll leave. And we both know that's not what you want.
Bastard.
Arrogant, presumptuous bastard. He's right, of course. I don't want him to leave. I want...well, I'm not entirely sure what I want, besides his hands on me and his mouth against mine and the release he's been denying me for what feels like forever.
Another knock, this one almost gentle compared to the others.
"Mia." His voice carries through the wood, that deep timbre that somehow turns my name into something between a caress and a command. "Open the door."
Chapter 18
Sebastian
Suddenly unsure, my knuckles hover over the wood of her door. The silence stretching from the other side feels accusatory, as if the apartment itself is judging me for the game I've been playing. Eighteen hours since I left her in that alley. Each minute calculated, each silence deliberate. The perfect recipe for desperate need. But standing here now, I wonder if I've miscalculated, pushed too far, broken something before we've even begun.
I knock again, harder this time, a physical manifestation of my growing uncertainty. Again, she doesn’t answer.
