Page 62 of Changing Tides

“Just follow me,” he says before trotting back to the Bronco.

I pull out of the parking lot behind him, and he leads us to a small beachfront cabana. It’s a one-story, built on stilts, with an expansive deck that faces the ocean.

“Sebastian, this is gorgeous,” I say after I pull in beside him.

“It’s a work in progress, but it’s home,” he says as he takes my hand in his and ushers us to the steps.

I lean over the railing and watch the tide as he unlocks the door. Moonlight dances across the water, and when I turn around, Sebastian is leaning on the doorframe, watching me.

“Wine?” he asks.

“You have wine?”

“Bought it this afternoon, just for you,” he says as he steps aside so I can enter.

The house is indeed a construction zone, just as he described. Everything is covered in plastic and tarps, and the kitchen is a shell.

I walk a circle, taking in all the details.

“I have a lot of work to do. I’m doing it myself, one room at a time,” he explains.

“It’s got great bones,” I say as I run my hands over an old driftwood mantel above the fireplace.

He opens a bottle of wine and turns in search of a glass.

“Sorry, I don’t have any wineglasses yet. Or any glasses for that matter.”

“This works,” I say as I grab the bottle from the counter and take a huge gulp of liquid courage.

He nods and fetches a beer from the fridge.

“Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the place,” he prompts, and I take the bottle with me as we head down a hallway.

There are two unfurnished, good-sized bedrooms to the right with a Jack and Jill bathroom between them. A laundry room sits at the end, beside a linen closet, and on the left, he opens a door to a large, finished master suite, complete with a massive California king bed, dresser, and chest with two nightstands. A fifty-inch flat-screen television is mounted on the wall opposite the bed. Simple, nice, manly.

I take another sip from the bottle before he takes it from me and sets it on the dresser.

He slams the door shut and then prowls toward me, backing me against it until I feel the cool wood against my skin.

His hand tangles into my hair and twists.

My alcohol-fueled bravery nudges me to take hold of his shirt and twist it in my fist as I pull him to me.

“So eager,” he whispers across my lips before his tongue darts out and licks my top lip, then sucks the bottom between his.

The sharp bite of his teeth into my flesh causes a flood of warmth to rush between my legs, and I gasp.

Sebastian takes the opportunity to slide his tongue against mine, and I moan as we begin to wrestle for control of the kiss.

My hands walk their way up his chest to his neck, and then I thread my fingers into his silky hair and tug hard.

He breaks his mouth from mine, and his fiery blue eyes dance with excitement.

“You want it rough, Doc? I’ll give you rough.”

He grabs hold of my waist and carries me to the mirrored dresser against the wall beside the bed. Then, he turns me so I’m facing my reflection. His hands glide up my rib cage, taking the hem of my dress with them.

“Raise your arms for me, Doc,” he commands.

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