Page 132 of Wild Tangled Hearts

Sebastian

ONE YEAR LATER

The penthouse living room has become a hub of glitter, colored paper, and glue. Tomorrow’s art project for my grade three class has taken over every inch of space, but it’s Sebastian struggling with a hot glue gun beside me that brings a smile to my face.

He glances over and catches me watching him, his brow furrowed in concentration. “You look entertained.”

I chuckle. “I never thought I’d have a CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company helping me glue felt hearts to popsicle sticks.”

“This is a lot more difficult than I thought it’d be.” He carefully squeezes a line of hot glue onto a popsicle stick. “You know, I’ve faced tough board meetings and high-stakes negotiations, but this glue gun is a formidable opponent,” he quips, a playful glint in his eyes.

As we work side by side, our fingers sticky with glue and our laughter filling the room, I’m grateful for this simple moment.

Sebastian’s cystic fibrosis has been under control, but there’s always a nagging fear at the back of my mind, of how quickly his health could deteriorate. The sight of him struggling to breathe or the sound of his coughing fits can be heart-wrenching. It’s a reminder of the fragility of life and the relentless battle he faces against this disease. But we’re facing each day together.

And life with Sebastian is anything but boring.

It’s filled with fancy dinners, charity galas, and weekend trips to Rome and Paris. Sometimes I can hardly believe this is my life.

As I watch him, my heart swells with love.

Despite the art project chaos surrounding us, there’s an undeniable intimacy in this shared moment. It’s times like this, these seemingly ordinary moments that I treasure the most.

“I love you,” I say softly, my chest aching like it could explode from the emotions that well up inside me.

Love is such a simple word for such a powerful feeling.

Those piercing eyes of his lock onto me. His lips curve into a warm smile, and my breath catches in my throat.

Mine. That’s what he is — allmine.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice soft as he puts the glue gun down.

One glance at his smirk and I should be prepared for his playful attack, but he’s quick, and in an instant I’m on my back, Sebastian, hovering above me, smiling wickedly.

“Don’t even think about tickling me,” I warn.

He dips his mouth down to my ear, his breath shallow as he whispers, “But I like watching you squirm.”

My fingers curl in his t-shirt and I smile up at him. “I know you, do. But I still have twenty pairs of googly eyes to add—”

His kiss stops my protest, his fingers threading through my hair, and I tremble beneath him, heat pooling in my core. “I think we deserve a break.”

A whimper of desire escapes my lips, and he matches it with a deep groan. I arch toward him, aching to get closer. One touch. One kiss. And the world is forgotten. Only Sebastian exists.

He pulls my bottom lip between his, and my mouth parts as his tongue strokes against mine.

I wrap my legs around his waist, and his hands slip under my shirt, pulling the fabric over my head. Desperate touches, and feral kisses, we explore each other’s bodies, removing the obstacle of clothing between us.

Lifting me, he carries me to the bedroom, placing me on the king-sized bed, mouth, and fingers gliding over my curves, over my breast, my stomach, my hips, until he grips my knees, spreading them. His fingertips run along the slit of my pussy and I gasp.

“So wet.” His words are a growl of desperation.

I hold on to his shoulders as he pushes a finger deep inside me. His tongue licks at my swollen flesh, and I whimper as he devours me, lapping, licking, sucking until I’m crying out his name. “Sebastian.”

My fingers tug at his hair, and I pant, knowing I’m only a second away from convulsing against his tongue.

“So good,” I gasp, as my entire body trembles with ecstasy as I ride out the orgasm against his mouth. I quiver and shake for a long moment, and then he’s touching me again, slow and tender as he crawls up the bed, spreading my knees further with his own.

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