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I frown but don’t have time to think before he’s kissing me. His tongue is darting into my mouth, possessing me, and controlling me.
I grab onto the neck of his shirt, holding him close to me, gripping it so tightly, afraid that he’s going to pull away. If he stops kissing me, I might speak. I might tell him about my past, about everything. And if I speak, he won’t want to keep kissing me. He’ll think the worst of me.
Sebastian lifts his head from my lips.
“Don’t stop,” I beg.
His smile shines down on me, warming me and helping me to forget the pain. He lifts his shirt off over his head, and I no longer have anything to hold onto to keep him close except his skin. So my fingers claw at his chest, begging him to keep kissing me.
He starts his kisses again, but he doesn’t kiss my lips. He kisses everywhere else, worshipping my body as he works his way down my body. He pushes my shirt up so he can access my skin.
“How did I get so lucky to have a woman like you even for a short while?” His tongue licks over the bottom of my breast and up to my nipple.
I moan in delight as he licks over my pointed tip.
“I’m not as nice and perfect as you think I am.”
“No, you’re messy as fuck,” he grins with my nipple in his mouth before biting down. “My bathroom looks like makeup and hair products have exploded everywhere.”
I open my mouth to protest and say that’s not what I meant about not being nice or perfect, but Sebastian shoves his fingers in my mouth, silencing me as his tongue lingers then traces down my stomach to just over where my jeans rest.
“Suck,” Sebastian demands.
I suck his fingers.
“You’re also a blanket hog. I never wake up with any blankets anymore. You have all of them, hiding your naked body from me.”
He removes his fingers from my mouth, and I open to tell him to give me a real critique when his fingers slip under my jeans and find my clit. His fingers swirl around, and I know I won’t be able to talk except in moans and groans until he stops.
His eyes light up; his smirk grows as he watches me be teased by his fingers.
“You’re also spontaneous to a fault—too trusting, stubborn, secretive, bold, merciless, forgiving.” He stops teasing me and grips my jeans, yanking them down before he delivers his final blow. “And none of that makes you anything but the perfect wife.”
Our eyes hold each other as I search for any part of him that doesn’t believe his statement. He believes I’m the perfect wife. Maybe because I’ve been so different than I was in other relationships? Maybe he hasn’t dealt with me long enough to realize that my spontaneous, fun, flirtatious manner can cause problems? Or maybe he truly believes it?
I look down and realize he’s naked as he settles between us. “You’re perfect, Millie. Believe that, no matter what I or any other man says.”
His words hammer through me, making me chill.
He reaches back to grab a condom, but I stop him with my hand. I’m on birth control. I don’t say it with my words, but he knows. There is a trust between us. I guess that’s what happens when you save each other’s lives. When you care about each other more than anything else.
He spreads my legs and enters slowly, like he needs to move slowly so he can remember every inch as he slides inside me. When he’s filled me, he grabs my hips and holds me close before his lips land on mine again, kissing me tenderly as he rocks into me.
Every thrust, kiss, touch is all saying the same thing. The one thing we are both too scared to say—I love you.
Those are words we will never say. Because if we do, we’d have to stop pretending. Those words would make this real. And despite the feeling being true, love isn’t enough. It’s not enough for him to no longer be an addict, or to become spontaneous enough for a life with me.
And I’m too out of control, too purposeless, too me to ever be with him for real. Not to mention my past or how we came together.
So I cherish every moment as he thrusts in and out, knowing it might be the only time I’m ever truly loved like this.
Our orgasms come too fast. We explode, our love dancing around the room, but still never spoken.
Sebastian pulls out and then wraps his arms and legs around me, holding me tight against his chest, not even giving me a moment to clean myself off.
“I’m not good for you, Millie. You deserve better,” Sebastian whispers, telling me why he can’t be with me.
“I’m no good for you either,” I whisper back.
