Page 39 of First Comes Marriage

Right. Ask her about it. He could do that. Provided he could stop thinking about kissing her again long enough to have the conversation.

Chapter Thirteen

Sabrina had tried counting sheep. She’d tried doing yoga on the floor of the guest bedroom, focusing her gaze on the water of the bay rippling in the moonlight. She’d even tried reciting the state capitals to herself, but nothing had worked. It was after midnight, she was still wide awake, and now she couldn’t remember the capital of Missouri.

Tentatively, she reached her hand above her head and tapped against the wall behind her bed.

“What?” Sebastian’s gruff reply came as clearly as if he was in the room with her.

“Are you awake?” No answer. She let out a huff that sent the strands of hair hanging about her face fluttering. “I mean, obviously you’re awake since you spoke, but are youawakeawake?”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. Are you half asleep, barely keeping your eyes open, or are you actually awake, like mind and body?”

There was a long pause, then, “I’m awake.”

Sabrina sat up in bed, leaning back against the wall that separated them and listening to the rustle of Sebastian’s movements on the other side of the wall. “Still having trouble sleeping?”

“My only trouble is you banging around in there.”

“I was not banging around,” she said, trying not to laugh. Because really, what else could you call it when you accidentally fall out of tree pose and almost knock over everything on top of the dresser?

“Like you’re a goddamn crash test dummy.”

The laugh burst out of her, and she tucked her knees up against her chest, resting her chin on her folded hands. “I was doing yoga.”

She could practically hear his incredulous eyebrow raise from the other side of the wall.

“I always have trouble sleeping,” he said.

Something warm melted through her at the softness of his voice, the quiet admission, like he was sharing a secret with her. Sharing some hidden part of himself. And she suddenly felt compelled to do the same.

“Me too.”

“What’s keeping you up tonight?”

“The grumpy guy at the meeting tonight—with the flannel?”

“Norm.”

“That’s right. Norm. He asked me to join the Food and Wine Festival committee.”

“That’s how they get you.”

“Who?”

“This town. Ask Tessa.”

She liked the idea of the town ‘getting’ her, of them drawing her into their inner circles and keeping her there, of finally being claimed by this place the way she wanted to claim it.

“Are you going to do it?” he asked.

“I think I am.”

A few moments later, there was a soft knock on her bedroom door. She climbed out of bed and pulled open the door to find Sebastian leaning in the doorframe. He wore those gray sweatpants again, slung low on his hips and offering a teasing glimpse of the carved muscle of his Adonis belt. Her eyes snaggedon his bare chest, the broad expanse of defined muscles with a smattering of dark, coarse hair between his pecs.

She met his eyes as all the filthy things they could do to sate her hunger flashed through her mind. From the way his lip quirked up, he knew exactly what she was thinking. The bastard.

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