Page 88 of Closer

“I’m sorry, princess. You’re not getting away from me this time,” I murmur. “I promise you that.”

Chapter 26

Lilian

We had sex, intense and desperate, giving in to a desire I’d suppressed for so long. Heat floods my cheeks.

Amazing sex. Of course, it was amazing. It always is with him. But that doesn’t mean anything. It can’t.

I sit up slowly, taking in the minimalist decor of what must be Sebastian’s bedroom. Clean lines, dark wood, not a thing out of place, no personal touches.

It’s so different from his college dorm. Sterile, almost. Like one of those fancy hotel rooms that could belong to anyone. It has the same vibe as the room at his parent’s apartment—that sense of being forgotten and rarely slept in. A guest room more than a personal space.

Maybe it’s a spare room? I wouldn’t put it past him. He probably didn’t want me sullying his actual bed. Not that it would be the first time I’ve been in his bed… but that was a lifetime ago.

It fits us. For whatever this thing is between us. He lets me see a certain side of him and lets me into his space. But the real him? The messy, complicated, raw parts? Those he keeps locked away.

What am I even doing here? In Sebastian’s maybe-guest-room, in his life again after everything? I should know better by now. But somehow, I keep ending up with him. The way his hands gripped my hips, his lips on my skin, the sounds I made… God, what was I thinking?

The bathroom door opens, and he emerges, a towel slung low around his hips. Droplets of water cling to his chest, and his hair is tousled from the shower. He looks utterly at ease, as if it’s perfectly normal for him to wander around half-naked, and maybe it is.

This is his apartment in the end.

I clutch the sheets tighter around my body as if the thin fabric can shield me from reality. How is it fair that he can look so effortlessly sexy while I’m sitting here feeling like a hot mess?

“A little late for modesty, don’t you think, princess?”

I glower at him, hating the way my heart skips at the nickname. “Don’t call me that.”

“You weren’t complaining last night.” He shrugs, unperturbed.

I open my mouth to retort, but no words come out. He’s right, damn him. In the heat of the moment, I’d let him call me whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop touching me.

Sebastian saunters over to the bed and sits down next to me. The mattress dips under his weight, and I scoot away instinctively.

He raises an eyebrow at the action. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, just processing everything.”

“Did you sleep okay?”

I nod. “Thanks for letting me stay here. I really appreciate it.”

“I was thinking we could do breakfast. What do you feel like? I can whip up some eggs, or we could go out if you prefer.”

Go out? Is he insane? The last thing I want is to be seen in public with him, especially after… this. Whatever this is.

“Um, breakfast sounds good. Eggs,” I mumble, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll get dressed and come out.” I scan the room. Clothes… “Where are my clothes?”

“In the washer. I can give you some of mine. Unless you’d prefer to walk around naked.” He winks, and my face reaches the heat of molten lava.

He did not say that. Before I can formulate a response, he turns and walks into what I assume is his closet.

“Very funny.” I scramble out of bed, keeping the sheets wrapped around me like a makeshift toga, and follow him, determined to find something to wear that isn’t his, which is impossible now that I think about it. It’s his closet.

What is happening to me? It’s like my brain is on vacation.

The closet is huge, complementing the all-dark wood and sleek lines from the bedroom. Racks of designer suits, organized shirts, and one cabinet in the middle filled with ties and accessories. I hover in the doorway, feeling out of place.

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