Wait, I was angry with him. I narrowed my eyes.
But as he came closer and I saw the uncomfortable, almost pained expression on his face, I knew I wouldn’t have the heart to brush him off when he got to my side.
Still, it had been three days. I could make him sweat five more minutes. I turned back to Katelyn.
“Do you know who that is?” she whispered, staring over my shoulder, her dark eyes like saucers.
“Mmhm.” I lifted my wine glass to my lips nonchalantly, trying not to betray the hammering in my chest. A moment later, I felt the warmth of his body at my back.
“Hey.” His voice was low in my ear.
A shiver moved up my spine. I looked at him over one shoulder.
Then I waited.
For an apology. A how are you. A nice to see you. Anything that would indicate he knew he’d hurt my feelings and felt bad about it. Seconds ticked by and he remained silent, so I looked at Katelyn again, who was standing there with her mouth agape. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”
Then I felt it—his forehead dropping gently onto the back of my head, and resting there. Something squeezed my heart, but I refused to give in. Then I felt the hand on my hip, heard him whisper my name, and I knew I was lost.
Katelyn was positively riveted. “Is—is this your husband, Skylar?”
“No. This is Sebastian Pryce. Sebastian, do you remember Katelyn Witzke, used to be Katelyn Ellis?” He didn’t move. “Say hello to the nice lady, Sebastian,” I said firmly.
Sighing, he came out from behind me and held out his hand. “Hello.”
“Hi,” Katelyn said uncertainly, taking his hand. I could tell she was struggling to place him, just like I had, and I could also tell the moment it clicked, because she blinked, her mouth falling open again. “Wait a minute—you’re not the Sebastian Pryce from our graduating class, are you?”
He nodded, looking more uncomfortable by the minute. Unable to stay mad at him when he seemed so miserable, I took his hand. “Sebastian moved back about a year ago, and we ran into each other at Coffee Darling. He’s an attorney now.”
“Oh,” she said, recovering somewhat. “For what firm?”
“My father’s.”
She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t, and I scrambled to cover the awkward silence. “Hey, would you mind getting me another glass of white wine, Sebastian?” I asked him. “I’m empty.”
“Sure.” He took my glass. “And then maybe we can talk?”
“OK.”
He looked at Katelyn. “Can I get you anything?”
“No thanks.” She held up her half-full glass. “I’m good.” As soon as he was out of earshot, she pounced on me. “Oh my God! Is that really Sebastian Pryce? The crazy one? Are you guys dating? He’s so hot! Is he, like, normal now?”
Irked by the word crazy, I was already frowning by the time she got to normal. “Don’t say that about him. He wasn’t crazy, he was just…shy. And a little anxious.”
She shrank away from me, screwing up her face. “Are we thinking of the same person? He was totally nuts. Remember all the weird things he used to do? The washing his hands thing and the way he’d arrange all his pens and pencils on his desk so they were the exact same distance apart and the way he wouldn’t sit in an odd row in any classroom? I remember this huge fight he got into with Mr. Parlatto because he wouldn’t sit in the first row.” She lifted her wine to her lips, her eyes lighting up at the promise of fresh gossip. “He was a total freak.”
I was furious now, my hands fisting at my sides. “I remember how he used to get teased for being a little different,” I snapped. “And I realize now how tough it must have been for him to go through school without any friends. I wish I’d have shown more compassion, something I think we all could use a little more of. Excuse me.”
I found Sebastian in line at the bar, fending off the advances of a drunk Cassie Callahan, our prom queen and head cheerleader. A girl who probably wouldn’t have given him the time of day ten years ago. Fierce, territorial desire for him ignited inside me. “Ready to go? I need a ride home.”
“Yeah,” he said. “You don’t want your wine?”
“No. I’m done.” Without a word to anyone else, I took Sebastian’s hand and pulled him through the crowd, well aware of the stares we got. At the coat check, Sebastian held my coat for me and I slipped into it, then he tipped the woman two dollars before taking my hand again. My heart was pounding as we descended the stairs, and I had the desperate urge to kiss him, to wrap my arms and legs around him, to cover his body with mine and protect him—which was ridiculous. I was half a foot shorter than he was, even in my heels. And he was a grown, gorgeous, strong man, not the misunderstood child he’d been…but still. Something inside me just wanted to get him alone and hold him, whisper to him, take him inside me and make him feel good. He’d come here for me, even though he hadn’t wanted to. Even though he’d known how people would gossip and wonder.
We didn’t speak until we got outside on the empty sidewalk. “Fucking hell,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck as we turned the corner. His truck was parked on the street a few cars down. “How did you stand it in there that long?”
I didn’t answer. Instead I moved in front of him and threw my arms around his neck, kissing him hard, my feet coming right off the ground. His arms looped around my back
“What are you doing here, anyway?” I whispered against his lips.
“I came for you.”
Gratitude made my body tingle, but I wanted more. “Why?”
“Because I’m sorry.” He set me on my feet and looked me in the eye. “Because it wasn’t just about sex, and I treated you like it was. I was wrong.” Lowering his lips to mine, he kissed me before whispering in my ear, “Give me another chance. Please.”
“Oh, God, Sebastian.” Taking his face in my hands, I rose up on tip toe and looked up at him. “I don’t even feel like I have a choice. I want you too much.”
He exhaled, his breath warm on my mouth. “Come home with me. Stay the night.”
I kissed his lips. “Yes.” The side of his jaw. “Yes.” The base of his throat. “Yes.”
Somehow I managed to drive home, although I don’t know how, since the moment I turned the key in the ignition, Skylar unbuckled my belt, undid my pants, and stuck her hand inside my boxers.
“Move your seat back,” she said, pulling my cock out and slipping it through her fingers.
I did as she requested, looking around to make sure no cops were in sight.
“Now drive,” she demanded. “Or I’ll stop.”
Groaning, I put the truck in drive and tried to concentrate on the lines and lights and signs and traffic rather than on her hand working up and down my shaft, or her thumb circling the head, or the way she watched what she was doing, a little moan escaping her mouth. And speaking of her mouth.
When I turned onto the dark, quiet highway on the peninsula, she unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned toward me. “Careful now,” she whispered. Before I could stop her, she fluffed her hair back behind her shoulders, fisted my dick, and put her head in my lap. The next thing I felt was her tongue swirling around the tip of my cock like it was an ice cream cone and she didn’t want to waste a single drop. Oh fuck, oh fuck, now I was picturing her with my cum dripping off those round pink lips like melting vanilla ice cream.
I garbled something unintelligent, but what I meant to say was, I can’t drive, I can’t drive. It got even worse—better?—when she took just the head in her mouth and sucked, first gently and then hard, her fingers closing tight around the base.
My leg muscles tightened up. “Jesus, Skylar. Easy.” I tried to relax my lower body muscles, which wanted to flex and thrust and push deeper into her mouth.