Page 73 of Release Me

“And this is where I leave you,” Zoe says, hopping down off the counter and giving me a sympathetic look. “You know as soon as she starts talking about us falling in love that means grand-baby talk isn’t far behind.”

“Well, I’m not getting any younger!” Mom says, the words landing somewhere along Zoe’s retreating back.

“Later, Mom. I love you! Seb, don’t let Dad keep you and Nadia here all night.”

We don’t stay all night, but it is late when we get back to Nadia’s place. And even though she’s tired, she’s still smiling as she tells me about all the amazing bottles Dad has in the cellar I haven’t seen in years.

“I seriously can’t believe he had the 1945 Romanée- Conti.” She shakes her head, kicking off her shoes by the door I just closed and locked. “Do you know how much that bottle costs?”

“No, precious. I have no idea.” I put my hands in my pocket and lean against the door, content to be standing in her space again, watching her shed her clothes and free her hair from the bun.

She’s halfway down the hall with her fingers in her hair, presumably massaging her scalp, when she notices that I’m not following her to her bedroom. When she turns back to face me, her brows are pulled together in a line of confusion.

“What are you doing? Why are you still standing there?”

I shrug. “I thought maybe I’d spend the night at my place, give you some space.”

Her hands go to her hips. “Who said I wanted space?”

“No one. I just figured—” I let the sentence trail off because I don’t really know how to finish it. All I know is that I don’t want to overwhelm her, that I don’t want her to panic and shut down because it all got to be too much.

Nadia frowns, tilting her head to the side as she studies my features. “Do you need space?”

My answer is immediate. “No.”

“Well, neither do I.”

“Oh.” That’s all I can say because this woman continuously shocks the hell out of me. She’s gone from shutting me down at any hint of connection, to being all in, and I don’t know how it happened, but I’m damn glad it did.

She strides over to me with her shirt half unbuttoned and her hair doing everything but laying down, but she’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my life, the most precious thing I’ve ever held in my hands.

Her arms go around my waist, and she turns her face up to mine, pursing her lips in a silent request for a kiss that I grant immediately.

“I don’t want space, Sebastian. I want you in my space. I sleep better when I sleep next to you, so please stay.”

26

NADIA

My favorite thing about Sebastian is that I only have to tell him I want something once. One statement about wanting him in my bed leads to another sleepover that’s more sex than sleep. One request to be held on our first night together means being unable to escape the powerful circle of his arms while I sleep. One off hand comment about liking to start my Monday mornings with an Americano and apple danish from the cafe on the corner weeks ago means him returning from a quick trip to his apartment to get dressed for work with both of those things in his hand.

I’m standing in front of the floor length mirror in my living room checking out my outfit for the day—pleated, tan trousers paired with a white blouse for a simple but professional combination that suggests I haven’t spent the entire weekend being folded like a pretzel by my boss—when he walks through the door. He lets out a long, low whistle of appreciation as he strides over to me, looking like walking temptation in a black, three piece suit with his jacket undone.

“What you got there, handsome?” I ask as I run a hand over my unruly hair.

“Breakfast.” He sets the cup and the pastry bag down on the counter and crosses his arms, meeting my gaze through the mirror. “I thought you were ready.”

“I thought so too, but my hair just refuses to cooperate.” All of Zoe’s hard work has been undone by her brother. She joked with me about it at the house yesterday and told me to call her so she could come by and fix it. I had put her off, telling her I could make do until our appointment in two weeks, but after last night, I might have to take her up on her offer. And find a Sebastian proof hairstyle.

“I think you look beautiful,” the destroyer of silk presses says, sliding his arms around my waist and placing a kiss to my neck.

“Well, thank you, but I don’t think your opinion counts since you’re my boyfriend.”

“Why does my position in your life invalidate my opinion on your looks?”

“Because you’ve got the rose colored glasses on now. All the newness of our relationship and the good sex keeps you from being able to see me clearly.”

The intensity of his stare threatens to shatter the mirror. “Do I strike you as the type of man whose vision gets distorted easily, Nadia?”

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