Page 30 of Closer

I’m going to swallow you whole, princess.

And when I’m done, there won’t be a single part of you that doesn’t scream my name.

I throw back the second shot. It’s a poor substitute, but it’ll have to do for now.

Because one way or another, I’m going to finish what we started in that bathroom. And this time, no one’s going to interrupt us.

Chapter 11

Lilian

Finishing what I started? What did he mean?

Is that another one of his tricks?

Is he trying to mess with my head, to make me doubt myself?

I wouldn’t put it past him. Sebastian always knew how to push my buttons and get under my skin in the worst and, unfortunately, best ways.

And damn him, it’s working. Days later, I’m still thinking about it.

The way his eyes raked over me, dark with barely restrained hunger. The feel of his lips grazing my skin as he licked away the droplets of spilled wine. His deep timbre voice in my ear, igniting a fire low in my belly.

I stare into my glass of wine, watching the crimson liquid swirl, Gemma, Mary, and the bar taking a backseat in my mind. They don’t need to know how much I’m hurting, not when they have their own problems to deal with.

Spying on him.

The accusation echoes in my mind, taunting me. As if I would ever stoop so low, especially after everything we’ve been through, and especially after I chose him, defying my uncle.

“Ugh, Elijah is such an ass.” Gemma picks up one of the shots in the middle of the table and raises it. “Here’s to the assholes who break our hearts.”

I didn’t even notice the waiter bringing them. Mary and I each take one and clink them with Gemma’s.

“Why does he have to be engaged to her?” She drinks another one.

I join her, taking the last one. Why does Sebastian get to move on while I’m left here, trying to fill the void he left behind? “An absolute jerk.”

Maybe if I drink enough, I can drown out the memories, the what-ifs, the maybes. I signal for the waitress, but Gemma takes my hand down.

“It’s time to confront him.” She stands up, grabs her stuff, and wobbles toward the exit.

I hurry after her outside. “Are you sure you want to do this now?”

“Absolutely,” Gemma says.

I put on my jacket. “Think about this. Maybe it would be better to have this conversation when you’re sober.”

“And give him a chance to weasel his way out of it? I don’t think so.”

I glance at Mary for help, but she has already hauled a cab. “I’m all for it.”

Fan-fucking-tastic.

During the ride, Gemma rehearses her speech with us, going through all the possible answers Elijah could give. Too soon, the cab comes to a stop, and we follow her inside the lobby.

She walks up to the receptionist’s desk, and after a few minutes, the receptionist gestures to the elevator, Gemma disappearing in it.

“Do you think she’ll actually go through with it?” Mary asks.

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