Page 13 of Closer

“Sebastian, please.” I’m holding on to the last bit of hope, praying that my plea makes him stop because I’m close to doing something I shouldn’t

“Say it again.” He hums, a low sound in his throat. “Like you used to.”

“We can’t do this again.”

“Can’t we?” One of his hands wraps around my neck. “Then tell me you don’t want this, that you don’t want me.”

I close my eyes against the surge of longing the simple touch evokes. Deep down, I’ve always known Jason could never compare to the man before me. The man who still holds my heart, even after all these years. But I can’t give him that power over me again.

“Look me in the eyes and lie to me again,” he says.

I open them. And I can’t do it. I can’t lie to him about this. Not when the truth is written in every trembling inch of my body, in the warmth blossoming low in my belly. “It’s just physical, nothing more.” Who am I kidding? This has always been more than physical between us. Too much history, too many emotions neither of us can shake.

Sebastian’s eyes flash with something dangerously close to anger… or pain? But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by his usual cocky smirk.

“You’re right, princess.” His tone drips with mockery. “This doesn’t change anything. We both know you’re only using me to scratch an itch before you go back to your perfect little life.”

“And you’re only here because your ego couldn’t stand letting me go.”

His fingers on my waist dig in possessively. “Maybe I am.”

My pulse thrums wildly at his proximity, the warmth of his body so close to mine. I press my palms against his chest, my mind telling me to push him back, but instead, they linger there, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

This is dangerous, being here with him like this. But I know if I tell him to leave now, I’ll regret it. I need this, need him, if only for tonight.

“Well?” he rasps. “Are you going to play pretend with me one last time or not?”

One last time. I can give myself this, can’t I? To get rid of him and sate this bone-deep craving for the man I’ve never stopped wanting at last.

“I hate you,” I say.

His hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back. “The feeling is mutual, princess.” And then his mouth is on mine, hot and demanding.

I’m lost, surrendering to him, to the sweet oblivion of this dangerous desire that releases years of pent-up passion and longing.

His tongue sweeps in to tangle with my own as he walks me backward into the room. My fingers fist into his hair, pulling him closer still, needing every hard inch of him pressed against me.

He groans, the sound vibrating through me, and his large hands grip my hips, lifting me effortlessly onto the vanity. I wrap my legs around his waist, heels digging into the back of his thighs. Our bodies align in that exquisite way I’ve missed so much.

Sebastian’s hands roam greedily over the satin and lace of my dress, down my sides, grasping my thighs and rucking the skirt up. His calloused fingertips brush the sensitive skin there, and I shiver at the contact.

“I’ve missed this, missed you,” he growls against my lips, nipping and sucking until I’m breathless.

I don’t respond, unwilling to admit how much I’ve ached for his touch again. How many nights I’ve lain awake craving the heat of his body over mine. Instead, I pour all of those unspoken words into our kiss, kissing him deeply, hungrily, with a desperate need I know he understands all too well.

His hands slide higher beneath my dress, thumbs hooking into the sides of my lace underwear. I gasp and squirm, my heart racing. With one quick motion, he tears the delicate fabric away.

“Those were expensive,” I breathe against his mouth.

“I’ll buy you new ones.” His fingers stroke me intimately, finding my slick heat.

Every coherent thought flees my mind, and I moan, my head falling back. He plays my body like an instrument he’s long memorized.

“There’s my princess,” he rasps in my ear. “Let me hear how much you want this, want me.”

His words, his touch, they ignite a fire inside me, one that’s been dormant for far too long. My breath comes in short pants now, his skillful ministrations pushing me closer and closer to my sweet oblivion or downfall. But I bite my lip, stubbornly holding back. I won’t beg. Not yet.

Sensing my resistance, his movements slow, then stop altogether, and my eyes fly open to find his boring into me, dark and smoldering.

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