Page 21

Chapter Sixteen

I don’t remember falling asleep. One second I was scrolling through photos of Callan and me, and the next, I was out cold. His bed still smells like him. It’s softer than mine, a little bigger, too. And somehow, despite the way it shatters me, it’s the only place in this damn house I feel content.

The ache hits before I can stop it, missing him, not just by my side, but intimately too. Once you’ve had sex with a guy like Callan, stopping feels impossible.

The throbbing need for him builds slowly at first. It pulses low in my stomach, slow and hot, a hunger I’ve been pretending I don’t feel.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but all I see is Callan.

His bright eyes, messy hair, full lips I swear I can still taste.

His voice, his touch, the way he used to look at me like I was the only girl in the world. It fucking wrecks me.

God, I want him.

My thighs press together instinctively, chasing friction that doesn't come.

Heat coils tighter and I give in to the pull.

My hand drifts low, slipping beneath the hem of my shorts and into my aching center.

I find my sensitive clit and stroke in slow circular motions until tension crackles up my spine.

My back bows off the bed a little as I move with my fingers, chasing what I need.

I imagine it's Callan's mouth on me, sucking like it's his favorite taste. Desire builds deep and I arch my hips, muscles tightening as I edge closer. I’m dripping and needy, a desperate mess that would have him smug as he watched me beg for it. I close my eyes tight, biting down a moan.

"Oh God, Callan," I whimper, muscles clenching. I’m so close, that bittersweet euphoria waiting just beyond the edge of the cliff I want to fall over.

But then, I freeze when I hear the sound of footsteps. I turn my head slowly and, leaning against the doorframe like he owns the place, is Sebastian.

His eyes are dark and dilated as they devour me, the dim light from the bathroom making his silhouette look more sinister.

My gaze drinks him in, still half asleep and drunk on lust. I can’t miss the way his hands flex as if he is trying to maintain control, his nostrils flaring in an emotion I can’t read.

His chest is bare, aside from the black ink tattooed across it.

But most impressive is the bulge pressing against his joggers that tells me exactly how long he’s been watching.

My breath catches. "Get out," I whisper, but even I can hear the tremble in my voice.

He doesn’t move or speak. He just drinks me in like I’m something filthy and sacred all at once. I watch him lick his bottom lip as if he were begging for a taste, just how I imagined Callan looking at me just a minute ago.

Heat floods my cheeks and my limbs go rigid. Maybe if I play it cool and pretend I was only napping, I can salvage this.

I shift onto my side, tugging the blanket higher. "You watching me sleep now?" I mumble, hoping I can use sarcasm as a shield. "That’s not creepy or anything."

He doesn’t take the bait, just leans a shoulder against the frame, jaw ticking. "You talk in your sleep."

I scoff. "I do not." Turning in the bed, I try to hide my damp fingers as I look at him.

"You did just now," he says, tone raspy. "You said his name."

I freeze.

My throat tightens. I don’t have to ask whose name because I already know.

"Of course I did," I snap defensively. "This is his bed and I’m wearing his fucking hoodie. His scent is still on the pillow. It’s only natural I’d talk about him in my sleep."

"You weren’t sleeping." He grins, biting that lip my gaze was fixed on just a second ago.

"Was so."

Sebastian steps into the room and kicks the door shut with his heel. The click of the latch sounds louder than it should.

My heart jumps while his expression hardens. There’s something behind his gaze, jealousy maybe?

I sit up slowly, pulling the sheet with me. "What do you want, Sebastian?"

His breaths are short, eyes dropping to where the sheets are twisted around my legs. They linger far too long and I shift under the weight of his stare. The heat between my legs roars back to life as if his presence alone fuels the desire I didn’t get to finish.

His eyes flick up, locking on mine. Something in them smolders, like he walked in and caught the end of my undoing and now he wants to pick up where I left off. And fuck me, maybe I want him to.

My mind is still half asleep, half with him. I'm probably not thinking clearly, and right now I'm not sure I want to. Is it awful that I want him right now, that I want him to make me forget and feel good just like he did in the woods?

"You’re being awfully quiet," he says as he comes closer and closer. "That’s not like you."

I gulp, clutching the sheet tighter. "I have a lot on my mind."

"Yeah?" He takes a step closer, thighs touching the bed right beside me now. "Like Callan?"

I flinch. "Don't go there."

"Why not?" He trails a finger down my heated cheek. "You’re living in his room, sleeping in his bed and masturbating to his memory."

My breath hitches and I pull away from his touch. "Fuck you."

"No need," he says, voice dark and steady. "Looks like you’re already doing that to yourself."

He’s so close now I can smell him and his scent twists my insides. Even when we were out in the woods, when I was terrified and confused and covered in dirt, his scent made me feel calmer, safe. Even if Sebastian is the furthest thing from safe there is.

"Did you come in here to start a fight?" I bite, lifting my chin. "Because if so, congratulations. You win."

He leans down, one hand planting firmly on the bed beside me. "I didn’t come to fight, Little Lamb. You’re the one always looking for a battle."

"Don’t call me that," I whisper, not strong enough to speak louder because his presence causes that ache I was chasing to build.

"Why not. Afraid you’ll start to like it?"

I blink up at him, heart racing. I should shove him away or scream at him to get the hell out. But I don’t. Instead, I stay frozen, burning from the inside out.

His gaze falls to my lips.

"Tell me not to do it," he murmurs.

"Don't do it," I echo, heart hammering.

Neither of us moves; he just hovers there, breathing my exhale and staring me down.

Then just when I expect him to kiss me, he jerks his gaze away and curses under his breath, "fuck."

I relax slightly, exhaling a pent-up breath, just before he returns, crushing his mouth against mine in a brutal, blistering kiss.

It’s not gentle, and it’s not sweet. But it is all-consuming, the same way it was in the woods. Doubt doesn’t filter in when he's this close because all I can see, all I can feel is him. And I need more.

I gasp into his mouth, fingers fisting in the front of his shirt as I drag him closer.

One of his hands moves to the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair as he kisses me deeper.

When he pulls ever so slightly, turning my head to get a better angle so his tongue can swipe in, I whimper into his mouth and he devours it like a wolf in desperate need of his next meal.

His hand drops from my cheek, and in a swift motion, his arm scoops under me, lifting me effortlessly as the sheet falls away. Suddenly, I’m in his lap, straddling him and every thought that isn’t about him burns to ash.

His mouth crashes over mine and we get lost in each other. His hands grip my hips, dragging me against the hard line of him, over and over, like he’s trying to grind the doubt right out of me.

He tears his lips away just long enough to trail his mouth along my jaw, down the column of my throat, grazing it with his teeth. "You think you hate me now," he growls, voice wrecked, "wait ‘til I have you begging."

"Arrogant bastard," I hiss, clawing at his shirt until he's free of it. "Shut up and get to work or I’ll be the one making you beg."

He chuckles, a sound that goes straight into my chest, lighting me up with a spark of joy I needed more than I needed my next breath.

In one motion, he flips me beneath him. His lips find mine again, his body pressing down like gravity itself is pushing us together, giving us no choice but to cave to this burning need.

My legs wrap around his waist like they were made for it.

Even if my brain is screaming to stop, my body is doing exactly as he said it would, begging for more.

Sebastian growls into my neck, and something in him snaps when I arch into him while his hard cock presses to my center. He releases my wrists only to slide his hands under my hoodie—Callan’s hoodie.

His eyes darken as he shoves it past my ribs. "Take it off," he commands.

I hesitate, one hand clutching the fabric. For just a second I think about telling him no, I debate on breaking this up right here and now and pretending that this passion between us doesn’t exist. But when he senses my hesitation, he growls, "now!"

All my doubts fade into thin air because the way he’s looking at me right now, that predatory gleam in his eyes, is exactly what my body has been craving.

Desperate for more, I do as I'm told and yank the hoodie over my head, tossing it to the floor. His eyes drag over me like a brand, his hands claiming me again.

This was a terrible time not to have on a bra or panties, but judging by the look in his eyes, it’s more like perfect timing. He would’ve taken them off anyway, so maybe I’ve just saved us both the trouble.

"Fuck, Avery," he grumbles, equal parts irritation and awe. "You're…breathtaking."