Page 22

My heart stutters because that might be the first compliment Sebastian Banks has ever given me, and I don’t know what to do with it.

I'm not sure how to accept softness from someone who’s made a game out of grating on my nerves.

He can look at me like he wants to own me— that’s one thing—but the admiration in his gaze is not something I'm used to. In fact, I’ve only ever seen this in Callan, but how Sebastian does it holds an edge of darkness I want a piece of too.

In the next breath, he resumes kissing his way down my throat, his breath hot and taunting against my skin. His hands trail lower, dragging across my breasts, my waist, my thighs like he’s mapping a territory that's already been claimed.

"I can taste how much you want this," he whispers into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "You touch yourself thinking about him, but it’s me you see."

I inhale sharply, nails raking down his back. "You’re so full of yourself."

Even though he might be right, I’ll never admit that to him. It would give him too much power, and when it comes to the dynamic between the two of us, I can never let him hold the leash. I don’t trust him not to use it to yank my heart out.

"Maybe so." I feel him grin against my throat, hips grinding into mine. "But you still haven’t told me to stop."

Because I can’t, asshole. I want this too bad.

But I don't say that. Instead, I let guilt simmer beneath the surface.

His lips brush mine again. "Say it," he dares. "Say you hate me."

"I hate you," I gasp, eyes fluttering closed, body arching into his thrusts. His hard cock feels so good between us, my legs spread as so he can press into my clit harder.

"I know," he says, kissing me again. "Now, Little Lamb, hate me louder."

My breath hitches as he grabs my wrists and pins them above my head. My heart pounds so hard I’m sure he can feel it against his chest. His mouth hovers above mine just enough to make me ache.

"Tell me to stop," he says, voice low and hoarse. It’s like he’s having a battle with himself, torn between what is right and wrong in this moment.

But if there is one thing I know about Sebastian, it’s that he has no problem making the wrong choice.

And right now, I sure as fuck won’t give him a reason to.

This man is sin—poison flooding my veins with a dark promise, but I have no plans to get rid of it. As much as I know this is dangerous territory, I can’t find a way to stop.

I lift my chin and kiss him like the answer to all of my problems is written in the taste of his mouth, and not my damnation.

His hand slips beneath the waistband of my shorts, fingers sliding over my soaked cunt like he’s been there before—because he has. Two fingers plunge deep and the moan that leaves me is nothing short of obscene.

I swear I forget how to breathe. My body bows off the bed as sounds of pleasure slip from my lips.

Sebastian drinks in every sound. "Look at you," he breathes, eyes locked on mine. "Pretending you don’t want this when we both know you do ."

I dig my nails into his back. "Don’t flatter yourself. You’re a convenient mistake."

He lets out a dark laugh, mouth brushing mine. "Then let’s make it one hell of a mistake."

In the blink of an eye, his fingers slip out of me and his hands drop to my hips. He grips the sides of my shorts and yanks them off in one swift motion. The air feels cool against my soaked pussy and I suck in a sharp breath.

Before I can fully inhale, he buries his face between my thighs. His tongue drags up my center with devastating precision before he flexes the muscle, swirling slow, deliberate circles at my entrance while his thumb presses unrelenting against my clit.

A moan claws its way up my throat as his fingers plunge back inside me. He builds a rhythm, mouth and hands in sync, working me like he knows exactly how to make me shatter to pieces.

He hums against me, a low vibration that rips through my core. My legs tremble, fingers fisting the sheets, and I’m so fucking close I could scream.

Every movement, every breath, I fall deeper and deeper into his trance. It makes me forget about the world, my problems, the stalker, my fears of turning into my mother, and the worry that Callan will never remember me.

With Sebastian between my legs, nothing else exists.

And when he says my name low and rough right against my pulsing center, I come undone.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even let me breathe. He chases the sound of my breathing, the tremble in my thighs, and the heat of my skin. And just as the last wave crashes over me, he pulls out his fingers.

I shift, panting and aching for more because he left too soon. Just when I think he's finished with me, he shoves down his joggers and boxers. Those stormy eyes land on mine, hunger so clear I’m almost afraid he will tear me apart. And that fear doesn’t ebb when my gaze roams down his body.

My jaw nearly hits my chest as I drink in his huge cock. It's no wonder this guy has such big dick energy. I'm literally speechless.

He flashes me a wink, heat flooding through me. Stepping forward, Sebastian leans over me, chest brushing mine. For a second, I think he’s going to kiss me again, but instead, he reaches past me to the nightstand, yanks open the drawer and pulls out a condom like he knew exactly where to find them.

My heart jumps into my throat, knowing what's coming next, and also knowing I don't have the strength to stop it because I want him so fucking bad right now.

I watch as he slides the condom on like a tight glove.

He wastes no time climbing on top of me and my traitorous legs part immediately.

With his face hovering over mine, he looks into my eyes and for a heartbeat, I think I might see sincerity lurking there, like maybe he's going to ask if I'm sure, which I am. Fuck yes, I am.

But instead, he doesn’t make me say it; he just glides the head of his cock to my entrance and slips inside.

He eases in, inch by inch, stretching me apart until he’s fully seated inside me. Our breaths sync, hearts pounding to the same rhythm. For a moment, we don’t move. We just stare at each other, eyes locked like we’re both waiting for our minds to catch up to what we’re doing.

When my mouth parts, a wave of hesitation comes over me, but he doesn’t let the idea take root in my mind.

His fingers curl around my waist, grounding me as he begins to move.

His head falls to mine, forehead to forehead.

He's slow at first, like he’s trying to memorize the way our bodies fit together.

The muscles in his arms strain, veins bulging in a way that has me licking my lips.

My hands slide up his back, pulling him closer—deeper. And when I finally give in, letting him have a piece of me I swore I wouldn’t, he realizes it immediately.

His jaw clenches, and a groan escapes his throat as he buries his face in the curve of my neck.

"You feel…" His words trail off and he groans again, punctuated with another thrust that has me seeing stars. "God, Avery."

We fall into a rhythm, that's not fast or furious. Just a slow, deep roll of our hips.

He kisses me again, this time softer, like the fight between us has shifted into something far more dangerous and real.

The bed creaks beneath us, the headboard tapping against the wall. Callan’s bed. My heart cracks with the thought, but then Sebastian hums against my skin and it drives the guilt somewhere I can’t reach.

His hand slides up my thigh, gripping tight. "Fuck," he breathes, teeth grazing my jaw. "You’re driving me insane."

Our chests stick together, fused by sweat. I tilt my hips, meeting each of his thrusts, and the pleasure builds again. My senses are on fire—his scent, the scrape of his stubble against my skin, the low growl in his throat when I moan his name.

"Don’t stop, Sebastian," I whisper, voice frayed.

He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. "Wasn’t planning on it."

Driving into me again, he goes deeper this time, picking up his pace. My head falls back against the pillow, lips parted, body trembling.

His forehead drops to mine, eyes wide open as he watches me."I shouldn’t want you like this," he breathes.

His words hit like a match to gasoline, rearranging everything I thought I knew. We're here, doing this, but…Sebastian wants me? In which way? Sexually? Emotionally?

I don't respond because I'm not sure what I should say.

His eyes darken, and for a second I think he’s going to pull away.

But instead, I act first. I don’t know how to give him words, but I wrap my hand around his neck, keeping him close to me.

I make it clear that I don’t want this moment between us to end; I don’t want him to walk away.

And the moment I do, he captures my mouth with his again in a desperate, hungry kiss.

This isn’t just lust. It’s grief and rage. It’s both of us burning the house down and pretending we’re not the ones who lit the match.

My entire body feels like it's been zapped to life, tingles shooting through my veins. I clench my walls around him, muscles tensing, and he lets out an airy groan. "Avery…"

I heave, breaths coming in stutters, and I cry out. My second climax hits harder and I gasp into his mouth, breaking apart around him.

"Give it to me, Sebastian. Give me all your hate."

He follows with a growl, hips stuttering as every muscle in his body locks down tight. He surges deep, pausing for a moment as he comes. His body shivers with the intensity of it and when he puts a hand between us, rubbing my clit while he pumps in and out in shallow thrusts, I come apart again.

My voice shakes, and he watches the tremble of my lip, the intensity of this moment clear as day. And the second I come down, he relaxes his body on mine. He pins me there, under him, and it’s the most comforting thing I have felt since the night I called Callan in a panic.

For a moment, the room is nothing but the sound of our breathing.

I turn my head, eyes fixed on the ceiling as silence wraps around us. I’m in Callan’s bed, tangled in his sheets, naked, and freshly fucked by his best friend. Someone he considers family.

The weight of what we just did slams into my chest like a goddamn wrecking ball, and Sebastian must feel the hit too because he lets out a long sigh that has nothing to do with pleasure.

He rolls off me and sits on the edge of the bed, running both hands through his damp hair. "Well…that was a shit idea," he says, not looking at me.

I feel a pang of humiliation in my chest, but I just blow out a dry laugh. "Yeah. But we did it anyway."

He glances over his shoulder, something unreadable in his expression. "You okay?"

I nod. "You?"

"Doesn’t matter," he mutters. "We’ve already crossed the line. There's no going back now."

I don’t know what this means or how we come back from it. But I know one thing for certain, this isn't over. Not even close.

Minutes of silence pass, both of us trapped in our thoughts. I pull the sheet tighter around me, swallowing the lump in my throat. I refuse to cry because who the hell cries after sex? I won't be that girl.

It's not like I cheated on Callan because we were never official.

But in my heart, it feels like I did. Not that he'd even care. He doesn’t remember our deep talks or the way he looked at me like I was more than the chaos I brought into his life.

He has no idea that when he crashed, my heart was in that car too.

Sebastian speaks suddenly, breaking the silence. "Don’t drop out of the competition."

I blink, caught off guard. "Huh?"

He leans forward, elbows on his knees, head hanging low. "You should do it," he says. "It means a lot to you and you've worked hard for it."

I sit up slowly, pulling the sheet over my chest. It’s not because I feel vulnerable, but because I’m confused as to why he's talking about this now. And even more so, I’m confused as to why he cares enough to say it at all.

"Why are you bringing that up right now?"

He shrugs but keeps his eyes fixed on the floor. "You said you were thinking about dropping out. You shouldn’t."

The tone in his voice cracks right through my defenses. "Why do you care?"

I need to know. I need to see if this meant more for him just like it did me.

"I don’t," he says point-blank, giving me my answer. "But you do. So much so, I pulled a string or two and got you time at that new indoor archery range over in Chesterfield tomorrow night."

My eyes widen, his actions not connecting with his words. Who helps someone follow their dreams if they don’t care about them?

"Are you serious?"

I’m caught somewhere between wanting to hug him and wanting to shove him off this bed. His mood swings are starting to give me whiplash.

"Dead serious."

"Why would you do that for me?"

He shrugs again, still refusing to meet my eyes. "Moment of weakness. Don’t get used to it."

I tilt my head, studying him. He isn’t tense and his body isn't in the fight mode we bring out in each other. And for once, I’m not either. I just had amazing sex, came two times, and now I get to go practice my favorite sport in one of the most state of the art places this side of the country.

"Well, for what it’s worth, that was actually really nice of you. So, thanks."

He pushes himself to his feet, still avoiding looking at me. "Don't mention it."

I watch him, unsure what version of Sebastian this is—the villain, the savior, or the one in between, weighed down by guilt.

Then, just before he turns to leave, he surprises me again and leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to my forehead.

"Night, Little Lamb."

Something twists in my chest. My stomach flutters, heart squeezing with an emotion I can’t place, or one I don’t want to. I don’t like it.

When the door clicks shut behind him, I collapse back onto Callan’s bed with a breathless laugh.

What the actual hell just happened? And what in the world am I supposed to do next?