Page 40 of Forbidden Sins

“Oh god, Estella.” He looks at me, his expression raw. “You are perfect. Utterly, beautifully perfect.”

Something about the way he says it, so simply, as if it’s a fact that he’s been holding inside himself for longer than either of us knew, undoes me. I stumble forward, into his arms and against his chest, and despite himself, Sebastian’s arms go around me as he holds me.

My fingers curl into his shirt, tears welling in my eyes, and I cling to him. I breathe him in, his warm, smoky scent, and then I pull back, looking up at him in the dim light.

“I can’t do this,” I whisper. “I can’t marry one of them. But if I don’t, my father will disown me. I’ll have nothing. And Luis?—”

Sebastian looks at me curiously. “What about Luis?” he asks gently, his hands smoothing down my arms, and I fight back tears.

“He’s dead,” I whisper, the words catching in my throat. “He’s dead, and he’s not coming back, and don’t I—don’t I have a duty to him to pick up where he left off? To do what’s necessary for my family?” I bite my lip, pulling back, and Sebastian lets me go. “Maybe I should—maybe I shouldn’t be fighting this. Maybe I should be trying to figure out how to accept it, how to…want one of them.”

I see Sebastian’s eyes darken at that, and I know he hates the idea as much as I do. But what am I supposed to do, in the end? If my father disowns me, I won’t just lose money or status, I’ll be alone in the world. My friends—Marilee, Cora, Rachel—I never got close enough to them for them to be the kind of people who can help me through bad times. They don’t even know who I really am, what my life is. How would I even explain what happened?

And Sebastian—I look up at him, my heart wrenching in my chest all over again.Would he follow me if I chose to leave, if I were thrown out?I don’t know the answer to that, even now. I don’t know what that would look like for us, what kind of life we would have.

The unknown stretches out in front of me, a vast gulf, and I’m terrified to take a step out into it. To risk everything, and possibly be left with nothing.

I feel Sebastian’s hands on me, on my waist, my arms—pulling me back into the shadow of the rose lattices, and I look up at him, startled. That raw look is on his face again, pain and hunger and longing all clawing to be free, and when he pulls me against him, I gasp.

He turns so that my back brushes the roses, leaning over me, and he reaches up with one hand, his fingers grazing the edge of my jaw. “I don’t know what to do either, princess,” he murmurs. “I’m breaking my vow every time I touch you, damning you every time we cross another line, and yet?—”

“What?” I breathe, looking up into his eyes, my heart beating against my ribs. “Just say it, Sebastian.”

He swallows hard, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “I look at those other men, and I know I’m going to lose you to one of them,” he murmurs. “But I’ll be damned if any one of those bastards will be the first one to kiss you.”

His hands cup my face, his palm tender against my jaw, and then his mouth is pressing against mine, warm and firm and full, and I gasp, my lips opening beneath his as I’m kissed for the first time.

Sebastian doesn’t wait. The moment my lips part, his tongue sweeps into my mouth, claiming me, tasting me,devouringme. He presses me back against the lattice, and the scent of crushed roses fills the air as he slants his mouth over mine, his tongue tangling with mine as he kisses me the way I’ve dreamed of.

I reach up, clutching his shirt as I moan into his mouth, and one of his hands drops to my waist, sliding down to my hip. He pulls me against him in one sharp jerk, and I gasp as I feel him molded against me, the thick, hard ridge of his arousal pressing into me.

“This is what you do to me,” he growls against my lips. “Every fucking hour of every fucking day, princess. I’m so fucking hard it hurts because of you. You make me want—” He breathes in, nipping at my lower lip before kissing me again, harder this time. “You make me want everything.”

“You can have it,” I whisper against his lips. I’ve only had a single glass of champagne tonight, but I’m drunk on him, drunk on his kisses, drunk on everything I’ve wanted and everythinghe could give me. “You can have me, Sebastian. Right here. Please?—”

“We’re yards from the house.” His lips are still brushing against mine as he speaks, his voice hoarse with need. His hand slides down my thigh, the dress falling to one side as he yanks my leg up around his hip, pressing his erection between my thighs. “Anyone could catch us, Estella?—”

“I don’t care,” I whisper feverishly, pulling him back in, arching up to press my mouth to his. “I don’t. It can be quick?—”

He laughs roughly. “I don’t know how long I’d last, princess. Not long enough to do you justice. I’m so fucking close already, just from tasting you.” He kisses me again, hard and brief, as if he’s taking sips of precious wine from my lips. “I could come right now, if I weren’t trying so hard not to.”

A jolt of pure lust arcs through me at that, at the thought that I could undo him so completely. “You can have me,” I whisper, all of my caution thrown headlong to the wind. I grab his hand, pulling it between my thighs, where nothing but the thin strip of my silky underwear lies between his skin and mine. They’re soaked through, wet with my arousal, and Sebastian lets out a hiss as his fingers graze the fabric.

“Fuck, princess, you’re so fucking wet—” His fingers slide against the fabric, and I moan, arching into his touch.

“Just—it would be easy,” I plead, leaning into the pressure of his hand. “Fuck me, Sebastian, please. Take what you want. Send me back in there dripping?—”

“Christ, Estella!” He jerks back, taking a step back, and I can see that he’s pale. “You don’t know what you’re asking?—”

“I do,” I insist, taking a step forward. He’s rooted to the spot, staring at me, and I can see that every muscle in his body is rigid, his erection a stiff outline against his trousers, his eyes blown dark with lust. I lean up, curling a hand around the back of hisneck, and Sebastian groans like a man in pain. “I do. Please, Sebastian—I want you. I want?—”

I lurch up, pressing my mouth to his, and I feel Sebastian’s hands clutch at my waist, pulling me to him. We’re no longer in the shadows, but his mouth is on mine, hot and sweet and hungry, and all I want is?—

“Sebastian Sinclair.” My father’s voice rings out through the garden, hard and furious, and I feel Sebastian freeze in place as my blood turns to ice.

“Get your fucking hands off of my daughter.”

14

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