Page 79 of The Bourbon Bet
My thighs begin to tremble, my muscles protesting the pace. Each downward thrust sends shockwaves through my core. The coiling within me intensifies, a pressure building that feels almost painful in its intensity.
With his other hand, he cups my breast, fingers pinching and rolling the soft flesh, eliciting a symphony of sensations that reverberate throughout me. As he tugs sharply at my nipple, a flash of rapture shoots through me, and unintelligible sounds spill from my lips as he urges me closer to the edge of release. “I—I was wrong,” I pant, words slurring together. “I’m going to come. I’m so close.”
In one swift motion, he sits up, taking my breast into his hot mouth, teeth grazing sensitive skin. I gasp and my body convulses as pure, blinding ecstasy consumes me. My world dissolves into a rush of sensation, consciousness narrowing to a single point before exploding outward. A shiver runs from my core to my fingertips, leaving me dizzy. Everything else fades away. There’s only the pounding of my heart and the intense euphoria drowning me in waves.
“Kiss me,” he demands, his words hot and broken against my mouth.
His thrusts turn harder and sharper, prolonging my pleasure. I clutch his sweat-slicked back, urging him to come undone. His body stiffens, and a second later, he growls out my name as his climax chases mine.
We lie there breathing hard, our hearts gradually slowing as the intensity fades into something softer. I roll onto my side and nestle into his arms. Our bodies are slick with sweat and lovemaking. In the hazy glow of the early evening sun, his skin shimmers like burnished gold. I can’t resist trailing my fingers along the ridges and planes of his chest, memorizing them like a map. A fleeting worry crosses my mind. This moment is precious and fragile.
He hums contentedly, pulling me closer and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “That was incredible,” he murmurs. “You’re incredible.”
My chest tightens with something deeper than physical satisfaction. I close my eyes, breathing in the heady mix of sex and Sebastian. But even as I sink into this brief sanctuary, the first tendrils of unease curl around my heart. The very things that make this moment so perfect—the depth of my feelings for him, the soul-deep connection—are also what make it so dangerous. Secrets have a weight all their own.
He traces patterns on my bare skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I’d love to surrender to his touch, let go of everything except the sensation of his fingers against my body, but the nagging voice in my head grows louder. Sebastian presses a kiss to my forehead and murmurs, “What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?”
I force a smile and shake my head. “Nothing, just... thinking how perfect this is. Being here with you.”
His light brown eyes search mine, seeing too much. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m here for you, Rosalia, whenever you need me.”
If only I could speak the truth without losing him. Without losing myself.
If only past choices could be erased as easily as footprints in sand. Life doesn’t work that way. And I dare not imagine a future where I’m worthy of what he offers.
Tears burn behind my eyes, but I blink them away. I kiss him. “Tonight, let’s be here, in this moment. No past, no future. Just us. Can you do that for me?”
His eyes hold mine for a long moment before he nods, pulling me closer. “For you, anything.”
I lay my head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. In the gathering shadows of this last Friday in April, I allow myself this stolen happiness, this brief respite from reality. But next Saturday’s derby party looms like an approaching storm.
And the weight of Sebastian’s arm around me, the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek, makes the choice unbearable. Each kiss, each tender touch from this man reveals a goodness I never expected to find. How can I possibly hurt him now?
Tomorrow will demand decisions. But tonight, wrapped in Sebastian’s warmth, I’ll treasure this perfect slice of happiness and pray for strength to face the impossible choice waiting for me eight days from now.
Chapter Thirty-One
Sebastian
The bright, whimsical melody of the ukulele lulls me between the realms of wake and sleep. The music is coming from nearby, but in my drowsy state, I can’t quite discern if the musician is inside or outside. All I know is that Rosalia and I are on our tropical honeymoon. Her soft body, warm and fragrant, is blissfully pressing all along me.
I kiss the back of her neck, bury my nose in her silken hair, and consider asking the talented ukulele player to leave. Especially when Rosalia, still half-asleep, wigglesher hips, grinds her ass against my growing arousal. A low hum of approval escapes her throat, and heat blooms across my chest, spreading outward until even my fingertips tingle with anticipation.
“Crap, I’m going to be late,” she mutters, her words piercing through my haze.
She moves away from me, and I hold tight. “The luau can wait.”
Giggling and twisting around so we face each other, she says, “That sounds even better than a field of balloons.”
The mention of balloons tugs me fully awake. The honeymoon suite dissolves, replaced by the cream walls and sheer lavender curtains on the wall opposite the bed. I blink, taking in the sight of Rosalia beside me, her hair tousled and her face soft with sleep. Glancing at my left hand resting on her hip, I see there isn’t a ring on my finger.
It was a dream. Given our secrets, I should be relieved, but instead, disappointment settles in my chest.
She smiles, placing a palm on my chest. “Good morning,” she murmurs, her voice laced with dreams.
“Morning,” I reply, shifting onto an elbow, locating the ukulele—Rosalia’s phone.
She rolls over and turns it off. “It’s my alarm.”
