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He bares his teeth. I shiver. He stalks around the bed. I turn and take off out the door, down the corridor, then down the stairs. I take the steps two at a time, then reach the landing. I hear his footsteps behind me, and my pulse rate ratchets up. I pivot, careen past the living room, and into the kitchen. I round the island and head toward the pantry at the far end. I twist the handle open and step inside. I shut the door behind me and slide back until I’m flush with the wall. The scent of cinnamon and spices fills my senses. It reminds me of his scent… and strangely, that comforts me. My heartbeat slows down. I wrap my arms around myself, and stare at the crack of light in the space between the doors.
I hear the heavy tread of his footsteps approach. The rhythm of his gait tells me he's in no hurry. The footsteps stop, then start again. They come closer, closer. I stiffen, and hold my breath. The crack of light cuts out as he passes in front of the pantry door. I hear him round the island again and head toward the exit. Then I don’t hear him anymore.
Wait, what? Is he leaving without opening the pantry door? Did he miss me? It’s not possible, is it? Could I have beaten him at his own game?The tension leaks out of my muscles, and I sag against the wall. In the silence, time stands still. When it feels like I’ve waited long enough, I slowly push the pantry door open. I peek outside, and as far as I can tell, there’s no one in the kitchen. I wait for a few seconds more, then slip out.
"There you are."
I hear his voice a second before his heavy hand descends upon my shoulder. I scream, twist my body, and slip from his grasp. I jump forward, but he’s too fast. He grabs me around the waist and hauls me to him.
A giggle breaks free, even as heat flushes my chest. Fear twists my belly, and a sliver of anticipation zings under my skin. "Let me go," I pant.
"No." He swings me around so I face his chest. He took the time to change into a fresh T-shirt and sweatpants before coming to look for me? Guess he wasn't kidding when he said he'd give me a head start.
"I’m going to teach you a lesson," he growls.
"You keep saying that." I tip up my chin. "I'm beginning to wonder if you mean—" I yelp as he lifts me up and throws me over his shoulder. My hair falls down over my face, and my nose bumps into his back. I draw in a lungful of Seb and my head spins. I grab at that trim butt of his—to steady myself, of course— and whoa, now I know what they mean by buns of steel. Seriously, this man has not an inch of fat anywhere on him. I dig my fingers into said buns of steel, and that’s when his palm connects with my backside. A zing of fire sears up my spine. I scream, "What the hell, you asshole!"
"Language." His voice rumbles up his chest, and via our connection, up my lower belly. My thighs clench, then I gasp as he slaps me on the left cheek, then on the right, and the left, and the right.
"Let me go, let me go!" I squirm in his hold, then cry out when he brings his palm down on the space where my arse meets my upper thighs. Who’d have thought that was such an erogenous zone in my body? But it clearly is, for when he slaps me there again, my pussy clenches. My toes curl. "Oh, god," I groan, "oh, my god!"
He stops spanking me long enough to close the distance to the island.
He grabs my waist and lowers me to the countertop. I barely have time to wince at the contact of my inflamed flesh with the smooth, cold surface when he shoves his bulk between my thighs.
"Will you ever mention another man’s name when you are in my bed?"
I purse my lips.
"Will you, Princess?"
I jut out my chin and raise my gaze to his in time to see his lips twitch.
"This is not a joke, you jerk-face."
"No, it isn’t. And I shouldn’t be jealous of an actor—a man you've never met, and probably never will—but I can’t bear to hear you speak of another man."
"Wait, what? You’re jealous of Keanu?"
Color flushes his cheeks, then he plants his big palms on either side of me. "You seem to have a crush on him."
"Only because he says the most profound things."
"Right. He’s an actor, a creation of the media, an image honed to life from his movies; you know that, right?"
"Youarejealous of him." My lips curve into a smile. "Aww, so cute. You know, I only quote him because I find what he says quirky."
"Like I care," Seb grumbles. He pushes his face into mine so our eyelashes entangle. "Why can’t I stay angry with you for long, even though you refuse to obey my commands?"
"Because you have a thing for me?"
"I have athangfor you, all right." He closes the distance between us so the bulge in his sweatpants stabs into my weeping core… Yes, exactly there. Oh, god. A whine bleeds from my lips. His nostrils flare. “Your fictional crush can’t do that to you, can he?”
"Seb," I plead, "please, Seb."
"What do you want, Princess? Tell me."
"You." I bite the inside of my cheek. "I want your cock inside me, your fingers in my mouth, in my arse, wherever you want to take me."
