Page 34 of Worth the Heat
“If you take a bath, you’ll be naked, Isabella. Naked in my bathroom. In my tub. In my space. And all I’ll want to do is break down the fucking door so I can join you, or at least watch. The thought of you covered in bubbles makes me so hard I think I could come without a touch. Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
His nose touches mine as he tells me this, and I struggle to stay standing upright. I wonder if he can feel my heart beatingagainst his chest. Butterflies erupt in my stomach as he drags one hand up my arm, sliding across my shoulder until he brackets my neck. “Sebastian …”
“What,mi Reina? What do you need?” he murmurs, rubbing his stubble against my cheek. “Do you want to know what I want? What I need?”
I nod quickly as my hands find purchase in his waist, my thumbs on the edge of his obliques that make the beautiful V-line I’ve seen on him only a couple of times when he’s been at Everlasting to enjoy the hot springs. Sliding my thumbs only an inch more, I touch his bare skin, and Sebastian lets out a low groan.
“Fucking hell, baby,” he grunts. “Answer my question.”
I’m not sure how to answer him. My brain, heart, and vagina are all shouting different things at me. My brain is telling me to steer clear, to keep things professional. Sebastian is my protector and nothing more. I can’t fuck this up, because he’ll always be around my family, and I don’t want anyone to feel like they have to choose.
My heart is dancing in a field full of wildflowers, picking out wedding dresses and asking which flavors of wedding cake I’d like.
My damn vagina is just screaming, “dick, dick, dick, we need the dick,” so clearly I know how she feels about this current scenario. Honestly, it’s been a while since I’ve had great sex. Sex with Rick was okay. Good, even. Mind-blowing? No. Life-altering? Absolutely not. But somehow, Iknowsex with Sebastian would destroy me, in both a good and a bad way.
“You’re at war in your mind, Isabella,” Sebastian says, dipping his head down to press light kisses against my shoulder. I lean my head so he has better access to my skin, and it isn’t until I feel a hand under my thigh that I even realize I lifted my leg to shamelessly grind against him. Sebastian drags his tongue along my collarbone. “I want you so fucking bad, and I know you want metoo. But I won’t pressure you into anything you aren’t completely sure you’re ready for. Because once we take that step,Naranja, the game is over. You’ll be mine.”
“Why are you calling me orange?” I say breathlessly.
He laughs against my skin, sending a shiver coursing down my spine. “That’s not what it means. Well, it does mean orange, but not in this case.”
“What does it mean?”
He leans up, smiling softly as his deep, dark eyes watch me, and he lets go of my leg. “I’ll tell you when I know you’re ready.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “Not this ‘when you’re ready’ crap again.”
He shrugs as he steps back, and I immediately miss the warmth of his body against mine. “You aren’t ready, Isabella. And that’s fine. We’re taking this at your speed.”
“What if I’m never ready?” I whisper, closing my eyes as I wait for his response.
I hear him sigh. “Then I’ll accept that.”
As he begins to walk away, I call out to him. “You said I’d be yours. Does that mean you’d be mine?”
He gives me a breathtaking crooked smile. “Baby, I’ve been yours for years.”
To Faux Dateor Not to Faux Date
Yours truly was genuinely surprised upon hearing that Isabella Santo had recently moved in with Sebastian Garcia. While residents are hearing reports the relationship may be a little more on the fake side than not, I can report that Mr. Garcia has been seen more than once leaving Isabella’s apartment with many of her things in tow. An anonymous source claimed a break-in happened at the apartment complex the same night she was moved into his home, but his consistencywith moving her things leads me to believe he has no intention of letting her go that easily.
It’s been a few days,and while we haven’t really spoken again about where my feelings are, I can sense the awkwardness whenever we’re together. After Sebastian asked me to stay with him that night, I struggled with sending mixed signals, choosing instead to stay locked in the guest room. Just like he said, my mind is at war with my body. I didn’t sleep a wink, weighing the pros and cons of allowing myself to lean on Sebastian when my life is basically a dumpster fire. The following day, I was incredibly crabby, and Sebastian’s knowing smile was icing on a shitty cake. That’s when the texting started, and I realized much later that he used it to establish rapport with me. Sebastian Garcia was slowly whittling away at every single wall I’d built, one text at a time.
Sebastian: What’s your favorite movie?
Me: Why?
Sebastian: Are you always this defensive?
Me: No.
Sebastian: So I just bring this out in you?
Me: A little, yes. I have a lot of favorite movies. I need you to narrow it down a bit. It’s like picking a favorite book.
Sebastian: Ah. I bet you have favorites for every trope.
Me: You know about tropes?
