Maybe I underestimated Miles Sinclair. Since our conversation in the bathroom, he’s treated me better. Though he still won’t allow clothing in his house, he’s now sleeping in the other bed. He hasn’t touched me beyond a graze on my cheek, or a gentle hand on the small of my back.
He claims he wants to prove his pure intentions and respect for me, though I’m uncertain he knows the true meaning of either. But one thing is certain—Miles has changed direction these past few days. It’s a minuscule behavioral shift, but it’s as tangible as the way my insides ache for another man.
Thoughts of Sebastian alter my own behavior, and instead of strolling along the cliffs, like I do most days after lunch, I head for the gazebo. I miss him with the searing burn of a million suns.
His rare smile.
The way he looks at me.
How he’s vulnerable with no one else.
His absence amplifies the agony of our last minutes alone together, because he’s not here to dispel the creeping doubt that plagues my soul. He’s not here to hold me when I need it most. It doesn’t help that the memory of us haunts my dreams, from the storybook cottage on the beach to the forceful anal sex on the elevator floor. Even worse, the closed door of his studio assaults me with the silence behind it every time I pass by.
Why haven’t I spotted him even once since the day we spoke with Elise as our chaperone?
Perhaps I’m a masochist for heartbreak, because as I approach the gazebo, with its stone pillars overwhelming in sheer size, an undeniable ache thickens my throat. I almost turn and run in the opposite direction, overcome with his absence the way one grieves for a loved one who’s passed.
The ache in my chest is that strong.
Somehow, my feet carry me up the stairs, and I fail to breathe when I realize I’m not alone. He’s standing at the far end, as still as the pillars surrounding us. Stonewashed faded jeans complement his white T-shirt, though I’d expect him to wear black to match the aura cloaking him.
I can feel his dark mood from where I stand, soundless and frozen in time.
As if sensing my presence, he turns to face me. “You shouldn’t be here.” With a slow blink, he licks his lips.
I’m transfixed, gaze stuck on that devious mouth as I think how soft those lips felt on mine. How wet and hot that sinful tongue was in my most intimate place.
With much difficulty, I drag my attention to his eyes. “Where have you been?” It’s the first thing out of my mouth, and I’m not sure why. Maybe because asking anything else will create a minefield.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been working in my studio, but I haven’t seen you at all.”
“I took a break from work,” he says.
“Why?”
He runs a hand through his messy hair. “Because I didn’t want to see you.” The words tumble out with harsh candidness, and his confession slams against my chest, making breathing impossible.
“Did you change your mind?” I choke out.
His brows furrow. “About what?”
“About us…raising your child with me…all of it.”
“Fuck no.” He crosses the gazebo before coming to an abrupt stop.
So close but still frustratingly out of reach.
“Then why didn’t you want to see me?” My aching heartbeat drums in my ears, and I blink away the moisture in my eyes. “I’ve missed you…so much.”
“Jesus, don’t cry.” Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he gazes at the stone floor under our feet. “I didn’t want to see you because I’m terrified I won’t be able to control this…this…” Trailing off, he raises his head.
“Control what?”
“This fucking need between us!” With a growl, he turns away, sinking both hands in his hair. “Whenever I’m near you, it just rages, Novalee. You consume every fucking thought, and I don’t know how I’m going to get through the next six months.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, unsure of what else to say because I feel the same.
“Don’t be sorry, princess. I live for wanting you.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “I lie in bed every night with the scent of your hair in my nose, jerking off to memories of you, and then I feel sick to my stomach because I can’t stop wondering if he’s touching you the way I did.”
“He’s not touching me at all.” I step forward and place a trembling hand on his back.
His muscles stiffen under my palm. “We can’t.”
My brain agrees with him, but my body has other ideas, because this isolated setting—coupled with the time we’ve been apart with no proper goodbye—is a recipe for disaster.
And yet…welcoming such disaster promises an addictive sweetness only he can give me.
“No one touches me like you do,” I say, reaching around his torso, my hand aiming for his zipper. He’s semi hard, but the second I cover his cock, he turns to steel under my palm. With a sucked in breath, he turns and has me pinned against a pillar, both wrists held above my head.
“No, baby.” His eyes burn with need as they lower to my lips. “We can’t.”
“Kiss me,” I say, ignoring the resistance in his expression. “I need you.”
My choked plea siphons the fight from his bones. Second by second, he relaxes into me, letting go of my wrists to cradle my face. With a shaky exhale, he parts his lips as our foreheads meet.
“No one’s needed me like you,” he says, his voice low and raspy and utterly sexy. The promise of his kiss electrifies the air between us.
“Please.” I arch my neck, thirsting for the taste of him. The world dims until nothing exists but him and me.
“Shit.” His mouth presses on mine, tongue darting between my lips, and I open for him, letting his kiss invade my soul. He yanks on my hair, his fingers rough and desperate. Whatever fight he had left dies in the tatters of propriety. I moan into his mouth, eliciting a matching sound of desire as he thrusts his erection against me.
Arousal builds, heating my thighs, tingling down my legs. I grow wet and achy, my pussy throbbing. Nipples hardening.
And that’s when I remember the device.
“Sebastian—” His kiss eats up my feeble resistance, and I grip his shirt, thinking to myself that five more seconds won’t hurt anyone before I push him away.
Stop…no…don’t ever stop.
I’m powerless, and his body is incredible against mine—like a shock that brings me to life again. His cock rubs me through my panties, his feverish hands on my ass, tugging me closer as we grind through our clothing. I’ve never wanted to be naked as much as I do now.
“Novalee,” he groans against my lips. “We have to stop.”
He’s right, but I can’t help but whimper as he breaks the kiss. I’m tempted to chase those lips anyway, teasing them back onto my own, but he lets go of my ass and engulfs me in his arms, his face buried in my shoulder.
“This isn’t fair.” My chest heaves against his, our breaths coming fast and hard.
“Six months, princess. I know it seems like forever, but the time will fly.”
“Pax is next,” I say, my voice cracking. Nausea rises, and I tighten my grip on him. “He terrifies me.”
“Landon’s working on something. You don’t need to worry about Pax.”
“What do you mean?” I pull back and meet his gaze. “What’s he working on?”
“I don’t know all the details, but there’s no way he’s going to let you go to that monster.” He clenches his jaw. “Castle won’t let it happen, either.” At the reminder of the chancellor, he untangles himself from me, and we break apart completely.
The space between us crackles with need, on the verge of igniting once again. To keep my hands off of him, I open my mouth to question him further, and that’s when his eyes widen, settling on something over my shoulder. I whirl around, and the breath whooshes from my lungs.
Miles is standing at the bottom of the steps, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, his mouth a stern line of displeasure. “In the library, now.” His gaze swings between Sebastian and me. “The both of you.”
“Let me explain,” I say, desperation straining my tone.
“You can explain it to the chancellor.”