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CHAPTER THIRTY

ETHAN

B eing back in the Hamptons was torture.

The last few days with Sebastian had been incredible. Not that the trip itself hadn’t been great, but being with him without a ticking clock was so different. Even if he didn’t feel the same way I did, he wanted to be with me. This time, it was real. I wasn’t about to start throwing around words like boyfriend or relationship , but this was pretty damn close.

After our fight in Barcelona, Sebastian had shifted dramatically, and now I could bask in just how affectionate he could be. My resistance melted every time he pulled me into his arms with no hidden agenda—he just wanted me close. Showering together in the mornings or sitting in the tub late at night had become our rituals, moments of intimacy that pushed him to open up in ways I’d never expected.

The sex had gotten better too—which was earth-shattering.

What started as Sebastian taking the lead in everything had turned into something deeper, something electric. I’d learned how to give him what he needed, and the fact that I could drive him mad with lust for me felt intoxicating. Even things I’d never imagined myself enjoying—like giving head—became something else entirely with him.

But it wasn’t just about the physical.

Even the pressure from school had started to lift. With Sebastian’s help, I’d gone through every option, breaking down my choices the way he approached problems—logically, strategically. And each day, I grew more certain of what I wanted.

Finance.

It made sense now. I loved the way Sebastian wielded power, the way he thought ahead, solved problems, and controlled the room without even trying. I wanted that. The challenge, the strategy, the control. The idea of building something for myself, of being in that world, suddenly felt right in a way nothing else had before.

I hadn’t told anyone yet. Not even Sebastian. But I knew he would support me—probably even be proud of me for figuring it out on my own.

Being with him was everything. I felt secure, like I was finally stepping into who I was meant to be.

I’d never been this happy. Plain and simple.

Then the wedding neared, and we were back at the Langley house, surrounded by our families. Sebastian in his room, me in mine, both of us sharing with other people, making sneaking out impossible. The physical distance felt as wide as the Grand fucking Canyon, when all we wanted was to be together. And of course, I’d just gotten my negative test results back, with absolutely no way to take advantage of that.

Sebastian’s relationship with Oliver was strained, and I could see how much it was affecting him. Being back in this house only made it worse. Oliver was tense, even if he tried to act normal around Charlotte. Henry kept cracking jokes to lighten the mood, which only made things more awkward. Thankfully, their dad wasn’t arriving until the night before the wedding, sparing Sebastian some of the added pressure.

Charlotte and my mom seemed hellbent on packing as many activities as humanly possible into the schedule, and since my parents’ relationship was still strained, my dad stuck with me through most of them. Sharing a bedroom with him wasn’t a walk in the park, either. Our attempts at civility had their limits.

All I could think about was being close to Sebastian. Having his hand laced with mine, blurring everything else. But finding alone time with him was impossible. Seeing him all day but having to keep our distance was harder than I thought.

Whenever we managed to hang out, it felt like everyone was watching. I understood why Oliver—and even Charlotte—were keeping an eye on us, but my parents? That was unnerving. My dad’s tone turned clipped whenever I was in the same room as Sebastian, his eyes sharp on our interactions.

I wasn’t sure if Sebastian picked up on it, but he made a point of keeping his distance when my dad was around.

The day before the wedding, we sat out on the terrace after lunch. I’d managed to secure the seat next to him, and even though all we could do was tap our shoes together under the table, it felt like a victory. Only three more days until freedom.

Most of the group had left, leaving just Henry, Sebastian, and me. My dad stood by the deck, talking to Oliver.

I stole glances at Sebastian, noticing his phone lying face-up on the table. It vibrated, and he unlocked it to type something before setting it down again. My eyes caught on the screen, and a flare of outrage lit up in my chest.

I grabbed his phone and tapped on the chat. “Sebastian Langley!”

Both Sebastian and Henry turned to look at me, Sebastian’s expression amused.

I shoved the phone at him, showing him the screen. “ That’s how you saved my number?” My Pet? What the fuck?

Henry saw it, too, and burst out laughing, and Sebastian followed a second later, his laugh rich and unapologetic.

“Change it. Right now!” I demanded, trying to keep my voice down.

“I’m not sure I know how to do that. You know, old people and technology,” he teased, his grin widening as he took another drag of his cigarette.

I leaned closer, pinching his arm. “Change it.”

“No can do. If I do, I’ll never find you again. My brain is wired to respond only to that .”

“Of all the fucking things, Ash,” Henry said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

“It’s fitting,” Sebastian said with a shrug. “Plus, you’re the one who started it.”

“I did not!”

“Did too. You said that’s how I treated you.”

“Sebastian, change it—” I shoved the phone into his hands, my voice firm.

Sebastian just shook his head, still laughing. He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming. “How about you change yours for me? I think I know what you’d type.”

I tried to scowl at him, but it was impossible to hold back my smile.

“Why? What does Ethan call you?” Henry asked, barely able to contain his amusement.

“Creep,” we said in unison, and Henry barked out another laugh.

Sebastian and I exchanged grins, joining in the laughter.

“Now that is really fucking fitting,” Henry said, still chuckling.

I shook my head, attempting to glare at him, but when Sebastian threw a wink my way, my resolve crumbled. He was so fucking handsome.

I turned away from Sebastian and caught my dad’s eyes across the deck. Heat crept up my neck as he stared at us, his gaze flicking between me and Sebastian before landing back on me, sharp and assessing. My stomach churned.

Clearing my throat, I straightened in my chair and forced myself to look away.

He eventually turned back to his conversation with Oliver, but the unease lingered. I excused myself from the table, my heart racing.

I knew what was coming. Sharing a room with my dad meant there was no escape if he decided to bring it up. I went over every word I’d said at the table, replaying it a million times, trying to pinpoint if something could have tipped him off.

When he finally stepped into the room, the tension was high.

“Are you changing already?” he asked casually, sitting on the bed.

I rummaged through my bag, pulling out a pair of shorts and a shirt. “Not for the rehearsal. I wanted to go for a jog first.”

“Do you want company?”

“Sure, Dad.”

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. Bad sign.

I pressed my lips together and waited.

“You’re awfully close with the Langley brothers,” he started.

My heart dropped. I shrugged. “Yeah. We’re friends.”

He nodded slowly, the silence stretching as he clearly weighed his next words. “I can see that.”

I tugged on my clothes and sat on the bed, tying my shoes, trying to appear calm. “Are you coming?”

“I get why you’re close with Henry. He practically acts your age. But Sebastian?” His words were pointed, phrased like a question waiting for an answer.

“Sebastian acts my age sometimes.”

He smiled, but it was tight. “So you’re friends with him, as well? You see him in the city? Go out?”

I kept my expression neutral. “Yeah, Dad. We all hang out sometimes. What’s the big deal?”

“You and Sebastian hang out? Alone?”

The panic surged, but I forced a nonchalant shrug.

He started pacing the room, his tone hardening. “You know, since your sister got engaged, I’ve done my homework. I looked them up, and Sebastian has quite the reputation.”

“Really?”

“He’s a bit of a player, isn’t he? Last I read, he’s gay.”

“Yeah. So?”

His jaw tightened, and he crossed his arms again, standing directly in front of me. “He’s an impressive man, Ethan. Attractive. It would make sense if you admired him.”

My face flushed so hot I thought I might combust. “Oh my God, Dad. Seriously?”

“I know you, son. The way you look at him. You look up to him, and that’s easy to confuse. You don’t want him reading anything into that.”

I frowned, anger bubbling under my skin. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re young and impressionable. Men like Sebastian are predators. They know how to manipulate interest.”

I stared at him, horrified. “Dad, what the actual fuck?”

“Don’t take that tone with me.”

“What other tone am I supposed to take when you’re accusing Sebastian Langley of being a predator with his eyes set on me? Do you even hear yourself? You don’t know him.” I stood, fury coursing through me.

“But you do?”

“Yes! A hell of a lot better than you. And if he likes dating younger people, so what? They’re consensual relationships.”

“A man his age dating someone much younger is an abuse of power, Ethan. It’s called grooming.”

I stood there, stunned, my pulse roaring in my ears. “Dad…”

“There’s nothing you could have in common with him. If he makes you feel safe or understood, it could very well be with another purpose in mind. And as I said, he has a reputation.”

“If he were straight, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“No, we wouldn’t, because you’re my son, not my daughter.”

I laughed bitterly, the sound humorless. “No, because if it were a man dating a younger woman, it wouldn’t be that bad, right? But since it’s two men, he’s automatically a deviant.”

His face hardened. “Why are you defending him, Ethan?” His tone was ice.

“Because he’s my friend, and you’re accusing him of being?—”

“Is there something going on between you two?” he interrupted.

The room seemed to tilt. My hands trembled at my sides, and I stared at him, frozen.

“No, Dad. I’m not—” The words caught in my throat. The wrongness of what I was about to say coursed through me, but I forced it out anyway. “Gay,” I ground out, hating myself the second it left my mouth.

It felt like watching someone else speak.

His face softened—relaxed—and that made bile rise in my throat. He was relieved. Relieved that his son wasn’t gay, even though his son was currently getting fucked on the regular and desperately in love with the man doing it.

This was so fucked up.

“You know what? I’m not really up for the company,” I said, my voice tight, turning away before he could respond.

I walked out of the room, slamming the door behind me.

* * *

I felt like a zombie all through dinner.

Sebastian gave a speech. Everyone smiled and laughed, enchanted by him, while I sat there feeling like the world’s biggest fraud. My dad kept shooting me glances, and I avoided his gaze, keeping my eyes locked on the table or flicking toward Charlotte. I’d even asked her to seat me next to Henry, hoping it would help me feel less on edge. It didn’t.

Sebastian was magnetic, commanding the room effortlessly. He spoke with that unique cadence, his voice rich with confidence and charm. Everything about him screamed unapologetic. The way he carried himself, the way he dressed—stylish to the point of flaunting it. The endearments that fell so naturally from his lips, the way he joked about his sexuality in front of a crowd, completely unbothered by what anyone might think. He didn’t care if someone judged him. And it just made him shine all the brighter.

I, on the other hand, felt so unbelievably unworthy of him.

Henry asked me at least a dozen times if I was okay, but I didn’t want to talk. Not to him.

I wanted Sebastian. I needed him—his comfort.

After his speech, when our eyes met across the room, I saw his concern growing. He texted me, asking if I was alright, if something had happened. I told him to meet me in the kitchen after everyone went to bed.

Later that night, after my dad had fallen asleep, I crept out of the room and sat at the kitchen table, waiting.

“Hello, darling.” His voice broke through the stillness, and I smiled, standing to walk into his outstretched arms.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

I shook my head, the burning behind my eyes threatening to spill over. The weight of the day, of everything that had happened, came crashing down now that I was with him—safe. But I didn’t know how to start this conversation, how to ask what I needed to without hurting him.

I decided to rip off the Band-Aid. “How did you know you were gay?”

His arms tightened around me. “I always knew.”

“You told me you dated girls,” I countered.

“I did, but that was me trying to work around it. I was never really into it.”

“I was. I think. Maybe I still am. It’s just…weird, because nothing comes close to you. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been working with some serious denial, or…” I trailed off, unsure how to finish the thought.

Sebastian pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “You know you don’t have to define it, right? You don’t need to put a label on yourself. You’re allowed to take your time.”

I rubbed my face against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. “I told my dad I wasn’t gay.”

Sebastian tensed. “Why?”

“Because he was worried I had a crush on you.”

Sebastian pulled back slightly, meeting my eyes. His concern deepened. “Pet?—”

“I denied it,” I admitted, shame twisting in my gut. “And I feel fucking horrible about it. It’s obvious I do like being with you, and he looked so relieved when I lied.” My voice wavered, and the burning in my eyes turned to tears. “He’s going to hate it when he finds out. He’s not going to—” My voice cracked, and I stopped, shaking my head as I buried my face in my hands.

The tears came, hot and unrelenting, and I scoffed at myself. Why did I keep crying in front of him?

Sebastian wrapped his arms around me again, holding me tighter this time. “It’s okay, pet. I’m here. It’s okay,” he murmured.

“I fucking hated it,” I choked out, my grip on his shirt tightening. “I’m not ashamed of you, or us, but now I’m scared of him finding out. I don’t want him to ever find out.”

“I’m so sorry, darling,” Sebastian muttered, his tone thick with guilt.

I pushed back slightly, looking up at him. His face was pained, his eyes dark with remorse.

“This isn’t your fault,” I said firmly.

“I’m the one who pushed?—”

“You didn’t push me into fucking anything,” I cut him off sharply. “I wanted this. I wanted you. I love you. This whole thing has been the both of us. Not you.”

Anger surged in my voice, but it wasn’t directed at him. It was important—so fucking important—that he understood. This wasn’t some depravity, some manipulation. It was real.

Sebastian’s eyes softened. “Ethan?—”

“No,” I interrupted again. “You didn’t push me. Don’t ever think that. This is real, Ash. We’re real.”

A small smile broke through his features, and he used his thumbs to gently wipe the tears from my cheeks. “You’re tough as nails, pet. I love that about you.”

His words speared straight through me. I knew it started as a joke, but the way he said it now— pet —that particular endearment sounded so intimate, so full of meaning. And paired with the word love, even if it wasn’t in the context I wanted, it was still perfect.

“I like it when you call me that,” I admitted.

His smile grew, lighting up his face. “I thought you hated it.”

“I used to. But now…” I hesitated, glancing up at him. “It makes me feel like I’m yours.”

Sebastian’s arms tightened around me, pulling me closer. “You are mine.”

My heart swelled at his words. “Am I?”

He nodded. “Just like I’m yours too.”

The rest of the world melted away as I looked up at him. “Mine?”

“As if you’d have it any other way,” he teased, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk.

His playful tone loosened something in my chest, and I let out a laugh. My fingers fidgeted with the collar of his shirt as I held his gaze. “So,” I began, testing the waters, “if Maya asked me where I was when I was with you, I could say, ‘I’m at my boyfriend’s’?”

Sebastian’s lips twitched as he rolled his eyes. He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over my cheekbones. “I hate that fucking word,” he muttered, surprising a laugh out of me. Then his expression softened as he looked down at me. “But you get to say whatever you want. To me, you and me are us. And that’s all that matters. Nobody gets to tell you that what you feel is wrong. It’s none of their goddamn business. You want this? You have this.”

Once again, he fanned the flames inside me. My chest tightened, my eyes burned, and I rose onto the balls of my feet, clutching at his shirt to pull him down. I kissed him, pouring every ounce of hurt and longing into the connection, redirecting all of it into the passion I felt for him—for us.

One kiss became two, then three, then too many to count. We clung to each other as Sebastian walked us backward until my back hit the first surface we came into contact with. His tongue curled hotly against mine, and our hands began roaming with urgency.

“God, I missed you,” he muttered against my lips. “It feels like I haven’t had you in years.”

I bit down on his lower lip, drawing a low groan from him.

Sebastian’s hand snaked down the back of my sweats, gripping my ass hard and pulling me closer.

“Can we go up to your room?” I panted.

“Henry. I can’t kick him out.”

“Your office?”

“It’s set up as a bedroom too,” he said, our breaths tangling together as we scrambled for options.

His eyes darted past me, and I followed his gaze—to the pantry.

He arched an eyebrow in question, a mischievous glint lighting up his features. I chuckled, nodding, before pulling him back into a heated kiss.

We stumbled toward it, hands frantically exploring as our lips stayed locked. The door shut behind us, and within seconds, clothes began to fall away, the need for each other overtaking everything else.

“Wait, wait.” Sebastian stopped me as I fumbled with the waistband of his pants.

“Fuck me, Ash.”

His eyes darkened, his pupils blown with lust. “I don’t think that’s an option, darling. We’re in the fucking kitchen,” he said, voice low, before kissing my neck and dropping to his knees, his tongue gliding over my navel.

“So?”

He tilted his head, meeting my gaze with an incredulous smile. “So, there’s no lube…”

“We’re in a pantry. You can find something,” I shrugged, gripping his shoulders as I wrapped my legs around his hips, locking myself to him like a vice.

Sebastian’s expression turned feral, his hunger evident as he stood up with me clinging to him like a koala. He kissed me like a madman, all his perfectly contained composure flying out the window, and I loved every second of it.

Even with me latched onto him, he started scanning the shelves.

I chuckled against his neck, letting my teeth scrape over his skin before biting down playfully.

“Don’t leave a mark, sweetheart. We have a wedding tomorrow,” he warned, though his voice betrayed the amusement lurking under his words.

I groaned dramatically, sinking my teeth into his collarbone instead.

“Bingo,” he declared suddenly, his tone triumphant.

I leaned back to see him holding a jar of coconut oil.

I arched a brow. “Is that going to work?”

“Probably.”

“Good enough for me.”

He placed me back on the floor and I pulled him into another kiss. Sebastian tugged my sweats and briefs down in one swift motion, the cold air hitting my skin. I turned willingly, my hands braced against the countertop as I heard the faint pop of the jar opening behind me.

Sebastian’s lips trailed down the back of my neck as he worked me open, his fingers slick with oil. It was messy, but effective. When he finally pushed inside, we both groaned, the sound echoing in the small space.

His teeth grazed the back of my neck, biting down gently, sending shivers skittering over my skin.

I couldn’t help grinning. “Careful, sweetheart. We have a wedding tomorrow.”

Sebastian’s breathless chuckle brushed over my ear as his hands gripped my hips. He started with a slow, teasing rhythm that left me panting.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his voice rough.

I pushed back against him eagerly, meeting his thrusts. “Are you going to fuck me fast this time?” I asked, half teasing but a hundred percent serious.

His fingers dug into my skin, leaving what I knew would be bruises, and I gasped.

“Yes,” he said simply, his voice taut with restraint.

And then restraint vanished. His hips snapped forward, hard and fast, and I bit down on my lip to muffle the scream threatening to escape. The sharp slap of skin against skin filled the pantry, and all I could think was how much I’d missed this. Missed him.

Sebastian could make me come undone with just a few thrusts, and it was fucking fantastic.

The position started to strain both of us—his height working against the angle—so I shifted, pressing a foot onto one of the shelves for leverage, lifting myself slightly.

Sebastian let out a low chuckle, his appreciation obvious even as his breath stuttered against my neck. “My legs are on fire,” he muttered, his words tinged with laughter.

I couldn’t help but laugh, too, nodding as my chest heaved. “Mine too.”

“Come on, turn around.” He pulled out, his voice commanding, and I obeyed, twisting in his arms.

Sebastian bent, hooking his hands under my thighs and lifting me effortlessly. I wrapped my arms around his neck and locked my legs around his waist, letting him take control.

He carried me to the wall, pressing me against it with a soft thud. The edge of a shelf bit into my back, but I didn’t care.

“Can you grab onto something?” he asked, his voice laced with humor at the absurdity of our situation.

I fumbled for balance, pressing one hand against the counter and stepping on a shelf to help Sebastian hold me steady. His arms tightened under my thighs as he adjusted and guided himself back inside. And fuck, the angle was perfection. My head tipped back, eyes rolling shut as his thrusts resumed, each one so deeply satisfying.

“Oh, fuck me, that feels so fucking good,” I moaned, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Sebastian buried his face in my neck, his lips brushing over my skin as he grunted, “Yeah?”

“Yes, Ash. Don’t stop.”

Every slide of his cock sent a jolt of electricity straight through me, hitting every nerve in the best way possible. He bent his knees slightly, quickening his pace, thrusting upward and deeper. My foot slipped from the shelf, and I let out a surprised laugh as he caught me effortlessly, pressing me more firmly against the wall.

My legs tightened around him, locking him in place, and Sebastian let out a low grunt against my neck.

“Faster. Go faster,” I urged, chasing the wave of pleasure he was building with every movement.

For once, he didn’t smirk or argue. He just did it, snapping his hips harder, faster, each thrust leaving me breathless.

I bit down on my lip, trying to muffle the noises spilling from me. Each sharp drive from Sebastian pushed a sound past my lips, loud and unabashed.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he panted against my ear, his voice heavy with humor and heat, “but you’ve got to be a little quieter, pet. We’re going to wake up half the house at this rate.”

I moaned louder in response. Tangling my fingers in his hair, I rested my elbows on his shoulders and grinned through the haze. “This is your fault. You made me loud. If you want me to be quiet, use your hands.”

“I can’t spare one right now,” he replied, his voice dipping into a husky laugh.

“Then tough,” I teased, biting at his jaw. “Fuck me harder.”

His answering growl was low and sinful as he complied. The pantry was stifling, heat radiating between us, sweat slicking our skin as gravity worked against us. I could feel myself slipping, but neither of us cared.

Sebastian adjusted his grip, pausing briefly before thrusting again, hitting that perfect spot with every snap of his hips. My toes curled, and my hands tightened in his hair as I felt the pleasure climb, threatening to pull me over the edge.

“Fuck, Ash. I’m going to come. Fuck. Go faster,” I babbled, my voice ragged with need.

The jars rattled violently on the shelves as Sebastian complied, his pace growing frantic.

“Me too, pet,” he groaned. His forehead pressed against mine, our shared breath mingling as his movements turned erratic.

I nodded, my legs clamping tighter around him as he pushed me higher and higher. And then the pleasure spilled over. My orgasm hit hard, ripping through me, and my cock twitched, untouched, as hot spurts coated both of our chests.

“Ash!” I cried out, overcome by the intensity, the sheer bliss of it all.

“Oh, fuck. So fucking hot—” His words were guttural, desperate. He slammed his hips against mine one last time, groaning deep and long as he spilled, his release warming me from the inside out.

I stared at him, transfixed by the way his face contorted in pleasure, utterly lost in me. He caught my lips in a searing kiss, though neither of us could fully keep up through our heavy breathing.

Sebastian’s legs buckled slightly, and we both chuckled, soft and breathless, as he carefully pulled out and lowered me to the floor. My legs wobbled, barely able to hold my weight.

I grimaced as his release started to drip out of me.

Sebastian snorted, his gaze dropping to my thighs before shifting back to me with amusement lighting his dark eyes. He rubbed at his chest, holding up his hand, now sticky and glistening.

“What a fucking mess.”

“Is this like shock treatment for you?” I teased, still catching my breath.

Sebastian nodded, a laugh escaping him.

I couldn’t help but laugh too, grabbing his neck and pulling him into another kiss. The press of our chests came with the slick, sticky reminder of sweat and cum.

“Christ,” he muttered, looking around the pantry for something—anything—to clean us up with.

“Probably not the best place to experiment with bare fucking, huh?”

His laugh burst out loudly, and he quickly clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle it. Too bad it wasn’t his clean hand.

“Oh my God, Ash, stop. You’re making it worse,” I said, grinning as I pulled his hand away and tried to assess the damage.

I brushed at his face, wiping away the smudges while smiling up at him.

His dark eyes locked on mine, his expression open—everything I had ever wanted from him reflected back at me in that moment.

I loved him so fucking much.

And then there was a sharp knock at the door.

The mood shifted instantly.

Our smiles vanished, and Sebastian’s face drained of color. My stomach dropped to my feet as my heart stopped dead in my chest.

We stood frozen, holding our breath, praying for a miracle.

Please, God. Let it be Henry.

A second knock.

“Sebastian, we need to talk. Right now.”

Oliver’s voice boomed through the door, cold and angry.

Shit.