Page 40 of First Comes Marriage

“C’mon.” He tilted his head towards the kitchen and started down the hall.

In the kitchen, Baz set about retrieving bowls and spoons. “I ate the last of the ice cream this afternoon,” she confessed as she hopped up onto the kitchen island, the marble cool beneath her bare thighs.

Sebastian paused in his movements, his eyes raking over her, lingering on her legs with such focused attention that heat wound its way down her spine. He dragged his gaze back to her face, his eyes pools of black ringed with the thinnest band of ice blue. Without saying anything, he pulled open the freezer door and retrieved another container of ice cream that hadn’t been there earlier.

“I bought more,” he said, as he scooped ice cream into the bowls. “Black raspberry.”

He handed her a bowl and took up a place beside her, leaning against the island as they ate. He kept his attention focused on his bowl but shifted his weight so her dangling calf brushed against his thigh.

“What happened in Maine?” he asked, keeping his eyes focused on the melting ice cream.

She popped another spoonful into her mouth, letting it coat her tongue. She struggled to find the words to explain. How much did she want Sebastian to know about why she’d given up her life in Maine, really?

“It was time for a change.”

He exhaled through his nose, a sound she was coming to understand signaled his frustration. “You had a studio there.”

It wasn’t a question, but she still found herself nodding.

“You sold it?”

“I let myself be bought out.”

“Why?”

She scraped her spoon against the edge of the bowl and let her calf swing back and forth enough to stroke his leg through his sweatpants. “I needed to start over. Somewhere new.”

“Aster Bay isn’t new for you.”

“Somewhere I wouldn’t feel like such a failure.”

He froze, every line and plane in his body going hard, as though he were bracing for a physical blow.Shit. I said that out loud.

After a long moment, he shifted a hair closer, the muscles of his body relaxing even if his jaw still ticked.

“You’re not a failure.” His voice was low and dark, and she could feel the vibration of it through the few inches where his hip was pressed against hers. She shrugged, scraping up the last bits of melted ice cream. “All those people tonight were hanging on your every word.”

"Tonight felt really good.” A smile pulled at the corners of her lips. She thought for a minute and, though he didn’t say anything, she got the feeling that Sebastian was patiently waiting for her to continue, that he somehow knew she had more to say. “They wanted to hear my ideas,” she said softly, like giving voice to the thought might make it untrue.

He took her bowl from her and set it alongside his on the counter. In one fluid motion, he boxed her in against the counter, his hands flat on the marble beside her hips, as he leaned down so they were eye to eye.

“Why does that surprise you?” he asked.

“Most people don’t want to hear what I think.”

“Meaning your parents.”

She nodded.

“And some asshole in Maine who bought you out of yourown business?”

She nodded again.

“You know what I think?”

She shook her head, suddenly finding it incredibly challenging to speak when he was looking at her with such intensity, when the heat from his bare chest was radiating off him.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “Fuck ‘em.”

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