Page 88 of Branded

Me

Seb, I miss being with you. It’s an ache I can’t get over.

Sebastian

I feel the same way, baby. We can fix that tomorrow. Goodnight.

Me

Night.

I drop my phone on the bed and stare at the ceiling, feeling wet from flirting with Sebastian.

I get up, go to the bathroom and get ready for bed.

Once I’m back in my room, I turn out the lights and crawl under the covers. The house makes the same noises it did when I was a girl as I close my eyes, and it should comfort me, but instead visions of my husband dance through my head.

I can almost feel him reaching for me, touching me, knowing just where to press to get me wet.

The problem with Sebastian Drake is that he is very, very good at making me want more.

I think about his hands—the way he touches me like he’s already decided how it will end and he’s just walking me there.

My fingers slip beneath the waistband of my underwear.

I think about the last time he pressed into me. We were in the barn, his mouth at my ear, making it even hotter with his dirty talk. That man knew how to drive me wild with his tongue in more ways than one.

My fingers find the right spot and my hips roll up instinctively, and I bite down on my lip because the house is not soundproof and my sisters are down the hall.

I keep the image of him fixed in my mind—that look he gets when I stop arguing with myself and give in to temptation. Dark and satisfied and still so maddeningly in control. I think about how he circles my clit with his tongue before sucking me into his mouth. The way he takes his time, like he’s making a point, like every second I’m squirming is exactly what he’s going for.

There she is, he says in my head, low and quiet. My sexy wife.

My fingers move faster over my clit.

I think about the weight of him, the way he enters me and fills me. My fingers move of their own accord and dip into my core as I shift so I can get deeper. I want to scream because it’s not enough. I need more. I need him.

I think about his hands gripping my hips, holding me exactly where he wants me as he pushes into me, relentless and harsh. The way he says my name when I’m close—it’s not soft or sweet, just certain. Like he knows exactly when I’m going to come.

My back arches off the mattress. I come with my face turned into the pillow so nobody hears me, and my thighs clamp around my own hand, and it’s good, it’s enough, but it’s not him, and my body knows the difference.

I lie there catching my breath in my childhood bedroom and think about the fact that I am genuinely, desperately gone for the man who bought me.

29

SEBASTIAN

I wake up to an empty bed, but this time Lennox isn’t in the kitchen making coffee or standing on the porch watching life. She is fifteen hundred miles away in Montana, surrounded by family who love her unconditionally—people who don’t look at her with suspicion or believe she is sharing secrets to the Marshalls.

A family who is going to judge every word I say, every move I make.

I pour coffee and pull out my phone, rereading her text.

Lennox

My father’s going to interrogate you. My siblings are suspicious. And everyone’s going to be watching to see if you’re treating me right. So basically, it’s going to be hell.

Good. I deserve hell after what I’ve put her through since we got married.