Of being something he wants badly enough that he is being a bit rough.
There’s nothing scary about it.
His arm slides behind my back and he lifts me, carrying me across the room to a worn leather couch in the corner. Anticipation blooms in my stomach, a mixture of worry over how far he wants to go, and the deep, building understanding of how far I’m willing to let him take it.
Sebastian wants sex and has never been shy about it. I can’t even count how many times he’s asked, alluded, insinuated. There’s a part of me that knows I’d say yes if he asked right now, but that same part also knows how terrified I’d feel. He wants sex. He wants to fuck me. He wants it so bad that he even has the good grace to not seem annoyingly impatient about me shutting him down all the time.
But maybe that’s the end of the line.
Maybe, once he finally gets it, the shine will wear off. Maybe then he’ll see me for what I am. Mediocre, at best. A lost, angry girl with more issues than National Geographic. A burden, a hassle. Nothing really special. Something already conquered. Unexciting, unimpressive.
Like this, when he hasn’t had it yet, he just looks captivated. He pushes me down on the couch, laying me back on the cool, slick surface. Somehow, he manages to get my shirt off and kick his shoes to the floor before climbing between my legs. Despite the hungry kisses and greedy touches, this isn’t the wild, impulsive Sebastian I’ve come to know. This one is calm and collected—determined—eyes drinking me in like a prize, something to be slowly savored.
He grazes his fingertips over my lace-covered breast. “Did you know your tits are absolutely perfect?” he asks, palming them. “Like, they fit absolutely perfectly in my hands. Not too big, not too little.” I don’t reply beyond a hitch of breath as I arch into his hands. I can’t, because it feels so good.
I lean my head back against the padded arm of the couch, overwhelmed by his touch. He presses his face in my cleavage, burying himself in my flesh, then yanks at the cup of my bra, tugging it down so my breast spills out. He squeezes them together, and I feel the heat of his mouth—his tongue—as it licks between them and then latches around a nipple, sucking and tonguing the peak.
Needing to feel him, I push resolutely against the hem of his shirt, seeking the heat of his skin. He rears back and reaches behind his neck, yanking his shirt over his head.
Fucking hell.
Talk about perfection.
Bass’s upper body looks carved from stone, a conglomeration of fine genetics and hard work. I run my hand up his abdomen, over his chest, and then lurch up to kiss the Devil symbol inked there. A big piece of Sebastian, one I didn’t fully understand until the game and the stairway and right now, clicks into place. This is why he walks around like he owns the place. This is why his classmates love him. This is why he gets away with murder.
He’s Preston royalty.
I look up into his face and see that he’s watching me closely. “Thank you for bringing me down here,” I say quietly. “I know it’s a big risk.”
His lips are a bright, vivid pink, eyes darkening as he holds my stare. “The first initiation into the Devils,” he begins, propping himself up with a hand beside my head, on the arm of the couch. The other hand glides over my chest, across one breast, down to my ribs. “We had to tell our worst sin.” His fingertips climb back up, eyes flicking down to watch its ascent. “It was recorded, so that if any of us spilled the secret, the people in charge would leak it.”
My stomach sinks, even as I surge into his touch. “Mutually assured destruction.”
He nods, blond hair falling into his face. “Do you know what mine was?” I shake my head, sucking in a slow breath when he bends, pressing a lingering kiss to my jaw. “You.” His fingers replace his lips, blue eyes boring into mine. “This. What I did that night.”
My stomach sinks even further, but this time it’s a bittersweet sort of ache. “Sebastian,” I say, reaching up to cup his cheek.
But his jaw just tightens as he says, “I don’t want to have any secrets between us, Sugar. I want you to trust me.”