Page 66 of The Bourbon Bet
He nods, brushing my lips lightly with his, and then pressing his mouth against mine. The pressure is perfect. He tilts his head and deepens the kiss. I open for him, moaning when his tongue swipes against mine.
My desire explodes brighter than the fireworks. I straddle him, wishing the couch were deeper, allowing us a closer connection. A fleeting thought whispers that I should slow down, but the sensation of his body pressing into mine scatters any restraint before it can take hold.
I kiss along his jaw to his ear, nipping and pulling before moving to his neck. The fireworks boom above us in quick succession. The grand finale is beginning, but I’m lost in something else entirely.
Lost in the way his breath catches when I find that sensitive spot beneath his collarbone, the warmth of his hands as they trace patterns on my back. The world outside fades to background noise as we create our own celebration, more magnificent than any display lighting up the night sky.
“I shouldn’t want you this much,” he murmurs against my skin, the confession rough with honesty. “Not with…” His tongue teases mine with a skill that curls mytoes inside my boots. I cling to his shoulders, my fingers digging into the firm muscle beneath his shirt, desperate to anchor myself against the tide of sensation threatening to sweep me away.
He pulls me closer until there is no space left between us. I moan at the contact. He tears his mouth from mine to trail a line of hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jaw and down my neck. My head falls back, giving him better access. A husky groan escapes me when he finds a particularly sensitive spot above my collarbone.
“Rosalia,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “I need you.”
The final bursts of fireworks cast us in flashes of crimson and gold. Everything else fades away—the crowds below, the concierge, my worries about moving too fast. There is only Sebastian, his heartbeat thundering against my palm, his breath warm against my skin.
He brushes my hair back, his fingers lingering at the nape of my neck. “Tell me to stop if this isn’t what you want.”
But stopping is the furthest thing from my mind. The cold April night has disappeared, replaced by the heat blooming between us. I answer him not with words, but by pulling him closer, surrendering to the current that's been drawing us together since that first day in my shop.
As his lips find mine again with a newfound urgency, one coherent thought remains: this night is far from over.
And I don’t want it to be.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Rosalia
Sebastian helps me stand from the couch on the balcony. I wrap my hands around his neck, pulling him to me for more of his kisses. In breathless disorientation, I find myself being swept inside the suite. My rational mind whispers we should slow down, but my body has stopped listening to reason. His lips never leave mine until the back of my legs hit something soft.
He lowers me onto the plush cushions of a couch and settles his weight on top of me. We stare at each other, our chests heaving, his eyes dark and wordlesswith anticipation. His usual composed demeanor has vanished, replaced by something primal and urgent. Then his mouth crashes down on mine once more, and I surrender to the flames.
His hand slides up my thigh, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. I shift, and his touch skims the lace edge of my panties, teasing, testing, drawing a sharp gasp from my lips. He pauses, his gaze locking with mine, silently seeking permission.
“Please,” I beg, my hips lifting, seeking more of his touch.
With a low groan, he hooks the delicate fabric and slowly, torturously, drags my panties down my legs. His hands tremble slightly, betraying his thinning control. Cool air dances over my overheated skin, making me shiver. But his warm kisses quickly replace the chill as he traces them up my inner thigh.
Each press of his lips is a brand, a promise, igniting the fire that burns deep in my core. I squirm beneath him, my hands tangling in his hair, torn between the urge to pull him closer and the need to savor every second of this sweet torture.
When he finally reaches the apex of my thighs, I’m trembling with anticipation. He pauses, his breath teasing my sensitive skin, before dragging his tongue along my heated flesh in one long, slow lick.
“Oh,” I gasp, my head falling against the cushions as pleasure sparks through me like electricity.
Sebastian hums against me, the vibration resonating through my core. Then, he sets to work in earnest. Oh. My. Wow. He moves between slow, languid strokes and focused attention, responding to my every sound and movement, pushing me toward the edge.
Pressure builds inside me, and my hips rock against his mouth, seeking more friction, more stimulation. He slides a finger inside me, then another, curling them just so, hitting a spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.
“Don’t stop,” I plead, beyond caring how I sound. “Sebastian, please don’t stop.”
My gasps come in sharp, staccato bursts. My heart pounds a frantic rhythm against my ribcage. His free hand is splayed across my lower belly, holding me in place as he redoubles his efforts, driving me relentlessly toward the edge.
I shout his name as a tidal wave of pleasure crashes over me, pulling me under, stealing the air from my lungs and the strength from my limbs. He guides me through it, his touch becoming tender but never stopping until the last wave of bliss has faded. I lay boneless and spent, my pulse hammering so loud that the sound seems to echo in the large room.
He crawls up my body, his eyes wild with need, pressing his hardness against me. “I want you,” he growls. “I want you so much I can’t think straight.”
I reach for his belt, my fingers fumbling with the buckle in my eagerness, when a knock at the door freezes us both mid-motion. “Who?” I ask.
His fully dilated eyes meet mine. “I think our drinks have arrived. I’d suggest we pretend we aren’t here…but given how loud you were moments ago, I don’t think she’ll buy it.” He grins, and it holds satisfaction and simmering desire.
