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“All done,” Lavinia announced with a cheerful grin.
Sebastian raised both brows. “It took you less than five minutes.”
“I didn’t want you to get fatigued.” Lavinia’s smile turned coy. “Or deflated.”
Sebastian guffawed and approached the bed. He sat gingerly by Lavinia’s side, leaning over her shoulder. He turned his head and inhaled a whiff of her hair. Perhaps it was standing in the chilly room all naked and exposed, or maybe it was something deeper, but sitting beside her, all warm and soft, and smelling of rose water soap, he suddenly felt extremely cozy.
He felt the same way in his Paris home, sitting in his large armchair by the fire, wrapped up in a warm blanket and reading a book. Comfortable. He felt comfortable with her.
She nudged him on the shoulder and held up a sketchbook for him to see. Sebastian squinted and laughed wildly as he saw her depiction of him.
She’d drawn a rather interesting collection of lines; what looked like two arms and legs, a muscled—at least, he imagined, that was what she was going for—torso, a round head, and a cock the size of his arm.
“At least you made me look very… um… well-endowed,” he said, still laughing.
“It seemed very important to you,” Lavinia pointed out. “What, do you not find your likeness very flattering?”
Sebastian took the sketchbook into his arms and studied it carefully. “I suppose I might look like this in the shadows. The lighting is truly terrible here.”
“Aren’t I the most talented?” she said with a laugh.
She was clearly joking, but Sebastian looked at her, at this shy, uncertain lady, who could make him laugh genuinely and feel so comfortable and couldn’t help but feel the light coming from inside her. There was something about her, something inexplicable, that had drawn him to her from the first moment they’d met. “You are amazing,” he whispered low.
Lavinia giggled. “I am a terrible artist. I am sorry for making you suffer through it.”
“Oh, no. It was a pleasure. You can torture me anytime.”
Lavinia turned toward him then, their faces only inches away. It would be so easy for Sebastian to dip his head and capture her mouth, and God knew he wanted to. But tonight wasn’t about him. It washerwicked night.
“Did I deliver on my promise to your satisfaction, my lady?” he murmured.
Goosebumps stole over her skin. She nodded.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Another nod.
Sebastian raised a questioning brow.
“Kiss me.”
A sigh of relief whooshed out of his body. “Thank God.”
