Page 23 of Twins to Tame Him

His desire for her was not a lie and he would use that as his negotiating tool. He’d lusted after her for three years, been celibate the entire time—deep in his obsession with finding her—when sex had been an easy escapade all his life. For all that he had called her one, Sebastian had whored himself away from the age of seventeen, in return for escape from his own head. And yet, he had abstained for three years. He hadn’t even wanted to look at another woman, much less seek out entertainment or escape.

It was as if his brain had had enough meat and material to occupy itself in search of Laila. As if on some instinctual level he had known that they were not finished.

The whole idea of scheming in the vague way he was doing and plotting each step carefully and then trying to stick to that plan... It was all very boring and self-depriving when he wanted to act on his gut. When he wanted to take advantage of the long glances and trembling gasps Laila didn’t even know she was putting out.

The woman was as naive about her sexual appeal as she was no-nonsense about their arrangement. A part of him just wanted to take what she would so readily offer.

Ironic that Laila was trying to play by her instincts more while he was trying his damnedest to stick to a plan. And with the same gut instinct, he also knew that he would never need an escape from her. They would settle into the kind of matrimonial bliss that was a shallow mirror of what his twin had but that was one thing they both agreed on, didn’t they?

He just had to have patience and deny himself a little more and appeal to her newly awakened instincts. To prove to her she needed him, wanted him, as much as he needed her and his sons in his life.

His momentary escape into his own thoughts cost him for Laila stiffened in his arms. When he met her gaze in the mirror, he was relieved to find it was not affront. But...concern that felt like a thorny prickle against his skin. He did not need or deserve her concern. He had spent his entire life without it.

She tightened her clasp on his wrist. “You went away somewhere. Is that a lingering echo of the migraine?”

He shook his head. “I was trying to figure out where to begin your ruin.”

She laughed, having clearly decided to believe his lie. There was such a gentle generosity to her spirit that it shone out of every pore, like her skin was giving off an iridescent glow. Her large amber eyes glowed with naked desire and were so artlessly honest that it hurt to meet them in the mirror.

He stared at her, feeling a strange, overwhelming desire to steal that laugh for himself. It wasn’t simple lust, for he knew how he’d twisted that beyond shape.

Sex for him had always been a momentary escape, a game to see how far he could go in his debauchery, a perversion to run away from the noise in his head, a constant chase to see if it would be enough to fight the need to emote on a canvas—which was what his painting had always been about. More an experiment than any kind of need to connect with another.

This was more. Different. A near-compulsive need to dig beneath that silky skin and learn all her secrets, to expose every nook and cranny of how she was made to his greedy eyes. The exact opposite of escape, for it filled him with renewed fervor and something that would sustain him for a long time. And when this need faded, they would have companionship, they would have their family.

“The end is a given, no? However it begins?” she said, with an eagerness that he wanted to devour. Her nipples peaked against his palms, making his mouth water.

He tucked her closer against him and had the pleasure of seeing her eyes glaze. “Yes, though I have decided to try on self-control for size.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means we will pursue your pleasure, not mine.” He rubbed one plump nipple between his fingers, and she arched into his touch. “And this counts as one wish I’m granting you, ne?”

“You’re diabolical to ask me that now,” she said, her words so husky that they pinged over his skin.

He tugged at the bodice until her breast in his hand was exposed to their sight and tweaked the dark pink nipple. Twisting himself around her torso, he rubbed his bristly cheek against the plump knot. “Say yes, Laila.”

“Fine, but—”

Sebastian didn’t let her finish.

This time, he kissed her. As he’d been wanting to do for three long years. He tasted her surprise and her soft gasp and then she softened under his mouth. In his arms. As if here, she was giving up all her rationale and all her fight, and simply caving to pleasure. Tart and sweet, her mouth invited him in with a passion he’d never known with anyone else.

With all the women he’d taken to bed, perversely, it was the Skalas name and the status, or the genetics that made him look the way he did that attracted them. He’d never allowed any woman closer than that. But Laila had jumped his defenses with her lies and her truths and had gotten far too close before he’d realized it.

With her, being wanted was a trip unlike anything he’d ever known, because she knew him and still wanted him. Cristos, it was a dangerous high he could chase for the rest of his life.

Sinking one hand into her thick curls, he tugged until she turned to face her reflection in the mirror. He ran his mouth over her jaw to the pulse at her neck that had been boldly taunting him for so long now. He licked at that pulse before pinching the sensitive skin between his teeth and she moaned loud enough for the woman waiting outside the door to hear.

She was unaware of how loud and wanton she sounded, lost against him, and Sebastian lapped this up, too. Feeling a potent mix of possessiveness and protectiveness, he clamped his palm against her mouth and said, “You want to see what I’d have done with you, right?”

She met his gaze, bold and brave. Always, so brave.

“This is between you and me, matia mou. And nothing to do with our arrangement or the future. Just the present, ne?”

She nodded, her curls bouncing this way and that, her front two crooked teeth digging into her lower lip.

“Tell me, Laila. Tell me what you would have me do with you. Choose your ruin, yineka mou,” he whispered, feeling an abyss-like need for her surrender.

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