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His lips find the soft skin below my ear, leaving a trail of fire down my throat. “I’ve always been the one you should trust,” he tells me. His hands slide down my sides to cup my bottom, squeezing, shaping.
It feels so good to be in his arms, but his words rankle. I push away from him, gaining a few inches of space. His hands are still on my ass, holding me tight to him.
“You ignored everything I wanted with my life, Sebastian,” I say, hands curled into the fabric of his shirt. I can’t quite make myself let go. “You asked me to marry you when Itoldyou I was leaving for college. It felt like all you wanted to do was hold me back. You wouldn’t even think of leaving Clare for me, but you expected me to give it all up for you.”
His hold on me loosens, but we don’t step apart. Sebastian slides his hands to my waist, his eyes roaming over my features, down to my collarbones, back up again.
“You’re right,” he says, his voice gravelly. “I tried to hold you back. I was shit-scared of you walking away from me, and I tried to keep you too close. I’m sorry.”
His apology makes me want to tear my chest open and hand him my bleeding heart. “We wouldn’t have been happy together, Sebastian. I never would have lasted in Clare. I always hated it there, always wanted to leave. And you couldn’t see yourself living anywhere else. I had to make the decision for both our sakes.”
Sad, blue eyes stare into mine. He lifts a hand and cups my cheek, letting his calloused thumb stroke my skin. I close my eyes, blood buzzing at that tender touch. I want him so badly it hurts. It’s always been this way with him, wanting things I can’t have, things that will only hurt us both.
“Trust me, Georgia,” he says quietly, “I’ve changed. I’m not that dumb kid anymore.”
“Neither am I.”
He places a soft kiss on my lips, barely brushing his mouth against mine. The simple touch sends fire sliding through my veins.
“You feel it too,” he says, lips shaping the words against mine, our breaths mingled. “You feel this magic between us.”
Eyes closed, I don’t want to admit he’s right. “It’ll end badly. Again.” I’m shaking, barely able to stand on my feet.
“Maybe,” Sebastian admits, walking me backward step by step. “But I drove through the night to come back here because I wanted to find out for sure. I found a house and signed a lease because I’ll be damned if I lose you all over again. I’m not leaving till this is finished. You hear me?”
Bad ending or no, I know I’m already lost. Step by step, lips locked on mine, Sebastian walks me backward until my thighs nudge against the stack of drywall sheets. His hands brand me, burn me. I’m feverish, hands clawing at his shoulders, his biceps, wanting to get closer and closer.
I tried fighting this. I tried wrapping myself up in barbed wire to keep him out. I tried walking away, tried pushing him away.
None of it worked.
Sebastian Finch is under my skin. Being in his presence feels like the strike of a tuning fork against the very core of me. I hum, vibrate, ache for him.
Trying to wrestle some control back, I nip at his bottom lip and curl my fingers into the short strands of his nape, tugging hard.
Big mistake.
Instead of getting the upper hand, I find myself pinned roughly against the stack of drywall, his hands clamped around my waist, his kiss ferocious. I gasp as his hand cups my breast, squeezing, while his mouth finds the line of my pulse along my neck. The soft scrape of teeth against the flesh between my neck and shoulder sends a bolt of desire burning through me.
Sebastian is not a shy lover. He doesn’t ask for permission. He doesn’t seduce.
He’s exactly what I need.
Rough hands drop to my legs, clawing my dress up until he can slide his calloused palms against the outside of my thighs. A harsh grunt escapes his throat at the feel of my skin against his, and all I can do is close my eyes and cling to his broad shoulders.
His hands climb higher, shaping the outside of my bottom, gripping my flesh, owning me. When one warm palm slides between my legs, I find myself widening my stance. With his tongue sweeping against mine, Sebastian cups me where I’m already hot and wet.
“Mine,” he growls, squeezing.
My blood turns to honey. I should protest, push him away, assert my independence. I should tell him that I don’t belong to him.
But in this moment, I know it would be a lie.
He tugs my panties down and lets out a long, low moan when his hand touches the wetness between my thighs. His fingers stroke, tease, touch until I can’t hold myself up without leaning against the stack of construction materials at my back.
“Sebastian,” I protest, inhaling the scent of his skin while I bury my face in the crook of his neck.
“Let me take care of you.” A stroke of his fingers along my slit, teasing the bud at its apex. “Stop fighting this, Georgia.”
