As I pulled up at the cabin, my heart pounded furiously. Lights were on—that had to mean he was home, right? Sebastian would never leave home without turning the lights off. I almost laughed as I ran up the porch steps, careful not to slip in the dusting of snow.
He pulled the door open before I could knock, and my breath caught at the sight of him. He’d gotten a haircut, and he wore jeans and a light blue sweater. His scruff was short and neat, and he looked rested and healthy and gorgeous. Heart pounding, I threw my arms around him, and he laughed, squeezing me tight and lifting me right off the ground.
“Hi,” he said, his voice muffled in my hair. “You got my letter.”
“Yes. Thank you so much. I love your words. I love you.” I inhaled the scent of him—there was smoke and wood on his skin, like he’d built a fire. “God, I missed you.”
“I missed you too. I hoped you would come, but I didn’t want to pressure you. Just because I was ready didn’t mean you were.” He pulled back just enough to kiss me, and the feel of his lips against mine was so thrilling I had no idea if my feet were on the ground or not. When the kiss grew deeper, he backed into the cabin, where I could hear a fire crackling in the fireplace, and pushed the door shut behind me.
“I’m ready. I’m so ready.” Panting, I released him from my barnacle grip and started unbuttoning my coat. “Now take off your clothes.”
He smiled. “I was going to say let’s talk first, but—” His eyes widened and swept down my body after I threw my coat off, taking in the silk blouse, pencil skirt and heels. “Fuck talking.”
One by one articles of clothing came off and were flung aside, and we tumbled naked onto the rug in front of the fireplace. I lay back as Sebastian knelt between my thighs.
“What do you want first?” he asked, his voice low and playful. “My tongue? My fingers? My cock?” He began stroking himself, sliding his erection through his fingers. “What did you miss the most?”
“Oh God, everything,” I breathed. “I missed hearing you and seeing you and feeling you—every part of you.”
“Which part first? You have to tell me or I won’t let you have it.” He rubbed the tip of his cock against one pale inner thigh.
Gahhhhhh, he was so hot! For the rest of our lives his quick mood switches might drive me batty outside the bedroom but inside it, they were like gasoline on the fire.
“Your cock,” I managed, the fire hissing and sparking. “Give me your cock.”
“Good girl. I’ll be gentle,” he said, giving me just the tip and then smearing my wetness up and down my pussy. He stopped and met my eyes. “At first.”
My heart pounded hard as he slid inside me and then pulled out again, teasing me by giving me a little more each time but never enough. Between each tortuous thrust, he played with my nipples, licking and sucking and biting them, pinching them into hard little peaks that tingled with lust.
“Fuck. If I wasn’t recovering from a broken wrist, I’d get rough with you right now,” I panted, my good hand pounding the rug, the injured arm over my head. “Beat your ass for tormenting me.”
He pushed in a little further. “Poor baby.”
“Please,” I begged, bringing my good hand to his ass. “I need you there. I need you inside me. All the way.”
Finally, he slid all the way in, so deep I nearly cried with relief. “Like this?”
“Yes, yes…” I pulled him into me, widening my knees. God, it was like he was made for my body. Every hot, thick inch of him filled me with such sublime perfection, I couldn’t even breathe for how good it felt. His hips moved faster, thrusting hard and deep, and my core muscles started to contract. “I’m gonna come,” I whimpered. “So hard, so hard. Come with me. Come inside me…” I moaned as my climax hit, and he growled low and long, grinding against me, his cock throbbing and thickening as my core pulsed around it.
He collapsed onto me, pressing his lips to my sweaty forehead.
“God, you feel so good,” I whispered, closing my eyes. “Tell me you’re OK.”
“I’m OK.” He lifted his head and looked down at me. “But I wasn’t before. And I need to apologize for not being honest with you. It was a mistake.”
“Apology accepted.”
He smiled. “You’re too easy on me.”
“I love you. And I once told you I’d give you all the chances you needed.” I took a breath. “Can you…tell me what happened?”
“Yes.” He rolled to his side and propped his head in his hand. As he talked, he played with my hair, twining it through his fingers.
“When I first saw you again, I was doing pretty well, I thought. I’d convinced myself that a solitary life was the only way I’d know peace, and peace seemed like the right goal. But then there you were.” He smiled. “Just as beautiful as ever, and those feelings I used to have for you came rushing back as if they’d never left.”
I blushed. “You hid it well, at least at first.”
“I had to. You terrified me. I felt strong for the first time in years, resigned to a life alone, and then here’s this beautiful angel right in front of me—kissing me. Touching me. Accepting me.” He shook his head. “I found myself wondering what if…”
“Me too,” I said. “It wasn’t only you.”
“And the sex.” He exhaled, closing his eyes. “The fucking sex.”
“I know,” I whispered, heat prickling across my skin. “It scared me too, how good it was.”
“I was able to be myself with you, afraid of nothing. It was so incredible. After that, it was a constant battle between my heart and my head—my heart telling me I’d always been destined to be with you, and my head refusing to let me believe I was worthy of it. I’d never brought anything but pain to women, and I wasn’t sure I was capable of letting you in.”
“But you did,” I said softly. “I felt it.”
He nodded. “I did. But the more I loved you, the more I feared the loss of you—when had I ever been able to hold on to happiness? I didn’t know how it would happen, but in my mind I always knew you’d leave, or something would happen to you, and it would be my fault.”
“Oh, Sebastian. I wish you’d have said something.”
“I couldn’t. Especially not once you told me you loved me. Then I felt this need to protect you even more, but what you needed protecting from was me. I started engaging in all my old rituals, stopped going to therapy.”
My heart ached for him. “I saw it happening. But I didn’t know what to do about it. And some days were so good.”
“They were.” He looked down at my hair twisting through his fingers. “And I should have talked to you on one of those days—I was just too scared. But the messed up thing is that you were right, you know.”
“About what?”
“That subconsciously I knew I was driving you away with my behavior and continued to do it because then at least I’d be prepared. I wouldn’t experience another sudden, shocking loss and feel blindsided and abandoned.”
“Another loss?” It hit me. “Your mom.”
“Maybe.” He kept looking at his hand, and in the firelight his sea-glass green eyes were shiny. “I’m still working through that. I don’t think it caused my OCD, but therapy is helping me to see how my fear of loss and abandonment has caused me a lot of anxiety and grief, and maybe that manifests as OCD related behaviors. Who knows?” He sighed. “For as much as science has taught us about the brain, some things are still a mystery. But I don’t think a kid loses his mom suddenly and tragically and remains unaffected—and when I look at the way I chose isolation and emotional distance from people, it makes sense. And this probably sounds crazy, but I felt like I deserved the loneliness. Like a punishment. Whether it was penance for my mom’s death, my violent thoughts, my cold treatment of women, my breakup with Diana…there was always something in my head I needed to atone for. But I don’t want to be alone anymore. I want to be with you.”