She wanted to cry with happiness. She liked kissing again.
And suddenly Sebastian wasn’t just her handsome, sensitive-souled friend-slash-husband. He was walking sex on a stick and she wanted to crawl all over him and rip his clothing off and lick every bit of him until he was screaming with need.
So she’d dragged him to the locker room and made him finger her until she’d come.
No regrets.
Well, okay, if they’d had more time, she’d have slid her face into his lap and given him the same happy ending she’d gotten. But she was going to do all that and more later tonight, now that she had her mojo back.
And she was excited about it.
When the coach released them, Chelsea jumped to her feet and threw her skates in her bag, hurrying out of the locker room.
“Whoa, slow down,” Cherry Fly teased, stepping in front of Chelsea. “We’re going out for drinks to celebrate. You want to come?”
Normally she loved hanging with her girls after a bout. It didn’t matter that she didn’t drink—she didn’t like the way getting drunk made her feel, that out-of-control, loopy sensation that reminded her of her rape—but she enjoyed the company. But tonight? Tonight she just wanted Sebastian and more kisses and more touches. “I can’t, my guy’s waiting for me.”
“Bring him along.” Cherry shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first spouse to tag along. Won’t be the last.”
“No, seriously, we have plans.”
“Oooh,” Grief Kelly said, appearing. She looped an arm over Cherry’s shoulders. “Someone wants to get laid.”
Chelsea ruined a perfectly good bitch-face by giggling.
“Called it,” Cherry said, and high-fived Grief Kelly. “Fine. You go get you some, but we get details at next practice.”
“Hell no.” Chelsea pushed past them. “You guys can just use your imaginations. See you next time!”
A few whistles and catcalls followed her out the door, and she flipped them the bird, grinning. Let them say what they wanted. She didn’t care. It was all good-natured ribbing anyhow. Her girls knew her. Maybe not as well as Pisa, but enough to know that she didn’t give her heart easily.
Then again, this wasn’t heart, was it? This was just body.
But she kept thinking of what he’d told his family. I love her.
She had all kinds of hard-to-classify feelings for the guy herself. Maybe she wasn’t quite ready for the L-word just yet, but she was sure heading in that direction. And after tonight, who knew? Maybe she’d orgasm like a champ and declare endless love for him.
It could happen.
Actually, it really could happen, and the thought made her giddy. She hustled down the hall to where Sebastian was waiting and bounded up to him, her feet feeling weird in sneakers after being in skates all night. He had his notepad tucked under one arm and gestured at her bag. “Want me to take that?”
She clasped his hand in hers instead, keeping her bag firmly on her shoulder. “A girl can carry her own skates.”
“Of course you can. But you were skating all night and all I did was sit in the bleachers and drink beer with Diane.”
She chuckled. “I’ve met Diane. Nice lady. Can’t skate for shit.”
“So she tells me.” He grinned down at her as they walked. “Skating’s important in a spouse.”
“It is,” she said loftily. “I’m going to ask you to show me your moves at some point.”
“All my moves don’t involve wheels,” he said, and gave a wiggle of his brows. At her snort, he turned thoughtful. “Diane saw my drawings, though. She thinks I should sketch the girls on the team for their trading cards.”
She gave his hand a happy squeeze. “That’d be awesome! Are you going to do it?”
“I don’t know.” He pulled her closer to him protectively as they got to a congested part of the street. “The thought of opening up my art for other people to see . . . it feels very personal. I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “It was hard enough showing you.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because I don’t know what I would have done if you’d laughed.” His eyes were so somber. “Your opinion is important to me.”
Her throat felt tight with emotion, and she gave his hand another squeeze. “Maybe start smaller then? One stranger instead of hundreds?”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Good idea.”
“I have lots of them tonight.” Oh, her head was just full of all kinds of ideas. Dirty, filthy ideas. “Do you have condoms at home?”
He immediately steered her the opposite way down the street.
“Where are we going?”
“Pharmacy. For condoms.”
She laughed.
A half hour later, they were home. The moment they walked in the door, Sebastian tugged her bag off her shoulder and began to kiss her. His mouth moved over hers, tongue slicking against her own. And it was . . . just nice.
There weren’t the fireworks from earlier. It puzzled her, and she let the kiss continue for a few moments before breaking off and giving his chest a little pat. “I should probably shower. I’m all sweaty and gross.”
He began to kiss her neck, pressing his mouth against her skin. “I don’t care if you’re sweaty. I like you just the way you are.”
“Yes, but I want a shower,” she insisted, tugging out of his arms. “Please?”
Sebastian studied her for a moment, then kissed the tip of her nose. “You bet. I’ll wait for you in the bedroom.”
She smiled at him and gave him a quick, chaste peck on the mouth before heading up to the master bedroom’s bathroom. It was far more lavish than the one she’d claimed for her soap making, and Sebastian didn’t mind that she hogged his bathroom. She managed to hold it together until she started the water.
Then, she sat on the edge of the tub and rubbed her forehead, thinking.
Fuck, what was wrong with her? She’d been so easy with him earlier. So passionate. It was the mental breakthrough she’d needed. Surely she wasn’t a one-trick pony? Now that she’d had her orgasm—and what an intense, great orgasm it was—she wasn’t done, was she?
She had more in her than that, didn’t she?
It troubled her even as she showered using her favorite soaps. Her current favorite was lavender, the scent calming and fresh. She knew that the house and everything in it sometimes reeked of flowers and Sebastian never uttered a word of complaint. The man was a billionaire. He could have bought her someplace else to work if it bugged him. He could have insisted she shut down her soap business. Paid her to stop stinking up his town house. Instead, he let her be her. Let her run the show.
If she was still capable of love, Sebastian would be the man she could love.
But now? After she froze up at the door? She wasn’t so certain if she was cured or not. She stepped out of the shower and toweled off, then impulsively flicked the lights off.
A wave of sheer terror shot through her. The breath escaped her lungs. She couldn’t breathe. She was being smothered, back in the Dumpster again. Forgotten. Discarded like trash.
With a small cry, she fumbled against the wall, looking for the light switch. A moment later, bright light flooded the bathroom again and she heaved a sigh of relief and frustration.
Still broken.
So what was tonight’s orgasm about, then? She hated to admit defeat to Sebastian, that now that they were home and had bought condoms, she wasn’t sure if she could perform as expected.
The thought filled her with anxiety and unhappiness.
By the time she got her nerve up to exit the bathroom, her mood was shot, her earlier confidence shattered. She hadn’t brought a change of clothes with her into the bathroom and had to leave in her towel, and she worried it was going to make Sebastian think that she was game for more play.