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16
SEBASTIAN
Playlist: “She’s so High,” Paratone
Air heaving in my lungs, I press my forehead to Ziggy’s, willing myself to regret what I’ve just done. But with each second that passes, the echo of her soft sighs fresh in my memory, the warm sweet taste of her lingering on my tongue, I can’t. I can’t regret what I did.
And that’s all the proof I need that I am as unworthy of her as ever. I didn’t deserve what she just gave me. I can’t have that ever again. I can’t allow myself to be that selfish, that greedy, not when it would only hurt her in the end.
I can be just a little selfish, just a little greedy. I can be her friend. I can laugh with her and do yoga with her and share diner milkshakes and watch her become everything she wants to become. And I’ll be lucky simply to witness that.
What I can’t do is drag her down onto the chaise and rut into her like an animal in heat, which I’ve just come dangerously close to doing.
“Was it bad?” she asks quietly, peering down at me. “Is that why you stopped?”
A smile I can’t help lifts the corner of my mouth. I let my head fall back on the chaise and smooth away those fine, fiery hairs from her face. “It was good. That’s why I stopped.”
A swift, pink blush heats her cheeks as she smiles, and a shiver dances through her body. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It does, Sigrid.” I sit upright and pat her hip, trying to signal that I want us—no, need us—to stand, to place vital distance between our bodies. “Let me take you inside. You’re shivering.”
Another shiver racks her as she shakes her head. She doesn’t budge. “I’m not shivering.”
“Yes, you are, now—”
She leans back, tugs off the wrap that she’s held tight around herself all night, and throws it into the wind. Before I can finally process the reality of her body in only that tight dark-green dress, she leans in, clasps my neck, and brings my mouth down to hers.
Oh, God, I try. God, do I try to resist. But I can’t. I can’t resist her. Even though I have to. I have to.
“Kiss me,” she whispers against my mouth as mine falls open, a gust of air leaving me. “If you want to kiss me, kiss me. Don’t talk yourself out of it.”
That’s exactly what I should be doing—talking myself out of it. But fuck, I don’t want to. I want to touch her, taste her, please her. Just this last time. Once more.
I unleash everything I held back last time, dragging her close until she’s right there, warm and snug, tucked against me, where I’m hard, so goddamn hard for her. She sighs and her eyes fall shut with the kind of pleasure that, in my weakest moments, I’ve dreamed about giving her. Clasping her jaw, I tilt her head until our kiss can deepen and her tongue meets mine, wet, hot glides and seeking strokes that make my hips arch up into hers. “Never again,” I promise her. “This is the last time. Never again after this, I swear.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” she pants against my mouth. A sweet little moan leaves her as I drag a hand up her thigh, to her hip and haul her against me, feeling her hips start to move. Fuck, she’s perfect—strong and soft, her body tucked against mine, every single part of us lined up like we were fucking made for this.
She feels like everything I never knew I could hope for, let alone have. A long-ago prayer answered, a forgotten dream come to life, too unbelievably good.
Her fingers delve into my hair, scrape down my shoulders, as my hands glide up her back, traveling the smooth warmth of her shoulders, bare to the night air. She wraps her arms around my neck, tugging me tight against her, and I groan as our hips start to move together, so perfect, so fucking perfect.
“Sebastian,” she mutters against our kiss. “I want—hiccup!” It’s a short, sharp squeak, but it’s more than enough to make me wrench myself away.
I can’t help but think about what caused that hiccup—the cocktail I watched her drink at Tyler’s.
She’s tipsy, influenced by alcohol, and I took advantage of that. Dread seeps through me. Jesus Christ.
Ziggy frowns. Hiccups again. “What—hiccup!—What’s wrong?”
“You’re intoxicated, that’s what’s wrong.”
She laughs. Laughs! “Sebastian, I’ve had more to drink at a Sunday family dinner than I had tonight. I was tipsy before we drove back but only because I drank it fast. I’m fine now. I have been. I’m safe.”
No she isn’t. She hasn’t been safe at all. We kissed. We started doing more than kissing, too. In the light of day and with a clear mind, she’s going to regret that.
I have to salvage this. I have to show her I can be her friend, not a depraved, dry humping ass.
A frown forms on her face. “What’s wrong?”
