Page 73 of The Pretender

“Sebastian, can you expand on what you mean by Valentina always keeping things interesting? What has surprised you about her?”

Tom is relentless in this interview. I know Sebastian won’t tell the truth because that would expose the lies about our story and that’s the last thing we would want to do right now while we’re in the lead.

Sebastian fidgets next to me, but then he takes a deep breath and settles before he says, “I thought I knew who Valentina was just from our prank wars but the more we hung out, the more I got to know her.”

Tom butts in. “And getting to know her proved you were wrong about who she was as a person?”

Sebastian looks me in the eyes. “Yeah. She was so much more than I thought.”

* * *

Sebastian stares,his body coiled tighter than the time my mom braided my hair so tight my eyes went squinty.

“Sebastian?”

“Shut up,” he clips, his fingers flexing against me.

Ugh. I try and move my leg down. Clearly he’s uncomfortable. Maybe I misread his body language. Maybe he’s just trying to be a good friend and make sure I don’t die from an adverse reaction. It’s possible all this tension is not because he’s as turned on as I am.

“Be still,” he barks. “I just need a minute.”

I sigh. “I’m fine.” I try to move my leg from his shoulder, and he grips it, holding it still.

“I said, I need a minute.”

I feel my eyes go squinty. “I heard you.” I try pulling away, but his hold is stronger than my pull. “But I’m fine. I’ll just go shower and see if we have any cream in the medicine cabinet. I’m sure it’s gone.”

Honestly, I could call Aunt Anniston, Aspen’s mom. She’s a doctor and could easily tell me what to do. Sebastian and I don’t have to pretend to truly care about each other.

“Shut up.”

Oh hell no. “Why are you growling at me? I told you when we set this blanket down that yellow jackets were buzzing around. If anyone should be getting pissed off, it should be me. I told you I was going to get—”

Warmth.

Weakness.

That’s all I can think when a million tingles shoot through my core as his mouth closes over the center of my panties, right over my clit. My hands tangle in his hair, and I fold over his body, groaning.

His fingers take advantage of my lack of verbal skills and slip under the edge of my panties.

I think we can all agree that we’re no longer looking for a stinger or a yellow jacket. We have just crossed over to giving into something primal, something we’ve—well, at least I have—wanted to do for so long.

“Sebas—”

“Don’t speak,” he says, his words muffled against the fabric of my underwear. “Don’t ruin this by speaking.”

I should be offended, but I’m not. Instead, another moan rips from me, and I give the thick locks of blonde hair in my hands an aggressive tug. Why his asshole personality speaks to me, I will never know…

The warmth of his breath as he presses a kiss to the inside of my leg, as if he’s kissing my boo boo before going back to his real mission of making me a mess underneath his hands, is sweet and caring.

And then he shifts, moving my leg off his shoulder.

“What—” His finger goes to my lips.

“No talking, remember?”

I nod, moving his finger with the motion as he bends and puts his arms around my backside and hoists me up and over his shoulder, fireman style.

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