by TARA GALLINA
Sebastian doesn't chase after me. Instead, he enters the sales office.
Jerk.
At the entrance gate to the dealer, I stop. My phone is in his car. Dammit. "Why me?" I groan to the sky, furious with myself for being so stupid. For trusting him.
The hot sun bakes the top of my head as I stomp back toward Sebastian's car. The temperature is higher today and the humidity has my shirt sticking to my skin. As if I needed another reason to be aggravated. That's it. As soon as I get home—to Harper's—I'm applying for student loans and calling Manitoba to see if I got in. If not, I'll beg, and if that doesn't work, I'll apply to every northern college that offers a scholarship with student housing. One of them will want me.
I give the handle a hard yank. The door doesn't open. My blood boils making me even hotter. I would kill for a rain storm right now.
At that moment, Sebastian exits the sales office, as calm as ever. "Change your mind about leaving?"
"Hardly. My phone is in your car."
"You won't need it." He stalks toward me, eating up the distance between us.
"I do, and I want it now."
He glances around. "You're shouting."
"You're being an ass."
He stops so close the toes of our shoes almost touch. "I have a surprise for you. Will you walk with me, or do I have to carry you?"
I back up. "I'm not going anywhere with you. You have the emotions of a sociopath. You know that?"
"Carry it is," he says with a smug grin.
I shuffle backward and trip on some gravel. Sebastian catches me before I go down and hoists me over his shoulder.
"Let go!" I beat my fists on his back. "Put me down!"
He continues walking toward the other end of the lot, where the big RV's are stored.
"Sebastian! I mean it! Put me down or I will scream!" I continue my assault on his muscular back. Does he have to be so sculpted?
"You're already screaming."
Argh! I smack him harder, faster.
He stops in front of a long black RV, from what I can see at this upside-down angle.
A click sounds, and a door opens. He carries me up steps and inside.
The sun disappears along with the street noise of passing cars.
I lift my head and suck in a breath of hot air. We're in a large RV. A nice one. Excitement joins my anger. I smother it down.
Sebastian puts me on my feet and locks his fingers around my wrist. "You're not going anywhere until we talk."
"This is kidnapping." I try to pull away as he drags me toward the driver's seat. "Let me go." Sweat drips down my back. Dear Lord. "If you're going to hold me hostage, at least turn on the air."
"That's what I'm trying to do," he says, and I realize he's reaching toward the ignition button but keeps missing because I'm fighting him.
I stop.
"Thank you." He slides into the seat, presses the brake, and pushes the start button. The engine roars to life and warm air blasts through the vents.
"Turn it cold." I reach for the gauge to crank the temperature to sixty.
Sebastian beats me to the digital knob. "Give it a minute and it will cool down."
I huff and drop onto the seat across from him, my arm stretched between us because he still won't let go of my wrist. Soft leather cushions my butt. The passenger seat could pass for a recliner.
"If I let go of you, will you promise to stay?"
I glower at him and notice something. "Why aren't you sweating?" Moisture coats my skin with a thin layer, yet he looks fine. Figures.
"I'm sweating. Trust me." He untucks his shirt and undoes the bottom buttons.
I get a peek of his tan skin, tight abs, and the dark trail leading to his—don't you dare go there. I turn my head toward the passenger window. "I promise nothing."
"Suit yourself. I thought you might want to unbutton your shirt or take it off. I will if you do."
I shoot him an angry glare.
He cringes. "Ouch."
Cooler air blows from the vents. I move my face in front of one. Ahh. This is what I needed, cold air blasting my skin.
"Yes," I moan and close my eyes. "So good. Sooo gooood. Ahh." I sit higher and use my free hand to open the collar of my shirt, so the cold air blows on my cleavage. "Oh my God. It feels so good." I don't care that I'm panting or that I sound like I'm having an orgasm, or that Sebastian is probably watching me. Take your fill. You'll never get to see this girl in action again.
Once I've cooled down and my sweat has dried, I lean back in the recliner. Hey. My hand is free. I glance at Sebastian. "You let me go."
He's staring at me, his eyes hooded and dark with desire.
I shake my head, even as my heart thunders and parts of me throb for his attention. "Why are we here? Whose is this?" I turn and check out the RV. A family room, dinette, and kitchen with granite counters and a full-sized refrigerator stretch to the back, where a door opens to a huge bed centered in a smaller room. Smoke colored wood covers the floors and cabinets. The couch looks made of gray leather. The place has a modern yet cozy feel. I like it.
Sebastian stands and moves close to the door. "This," he spreads his arms, "is my new house on wheels. A mobile office, if you will."
My jaw hits the ground. "You bought it? Just now? While I was leaving? That's what you were doing in the sales center? Geesh. What'd you do, throw down a hundred grand, point out the window, and say, mine?"
"Close. I threw down a black AmEx, pointed at you, and said, I need to stop her."
I ease back in the chair, a teeny bit impressed and a lot skeptical. "And you just guessed my secret fantasy is to tour these one day and maybe retire in one, cruising around the US until I've seen it all?"
He relaxes against the counter by the door and smirks. "That's your secret fantasy?"
"Were you hoping it was about you?"
"Praying."
"Oh, please." I roll my eyes and stand.
He shifts in front of the door, blocking the exit.
"What do you want?"
"To apologize."
"Now, I know you're lying." I saunter over, scheming to distract him and escape.
"It's true."
"I remember you saying you don't apologize." I wrap a curl from my ponytail around my finger and try for a coy-ish grin. It always works for Harper.
His gaze lowers to my chest and then lifts to my lips. "I said my father doesn't."
"But you don't apologize either."
"I never have, but I want to apologize to you."
"Why?"
"Because you deserve it."
If my heart flutters, I'll rip it from my chest. "Why?"
A small laugh escapes him, revealing a hint of that gorgeous smile. "I screwed up. I didn't mean to act like a dick after what we did. You were so concerned with Harper you wanted to leave, and you looked so damn good. Guys would have been on you in a second and you weren’t even concerned after what happened with that ass you flirted with." His hands curl into fists and his eyes close. "The thought of someone else touching you, hearing your sweet sounds, seeing you come apart in the most beautiful way, ate at me. I want you to myself." He opens his eyes and rakes his gaze over my body. "I want every part of you to myself."
I wait for the but that's sure to follow.
Nothing comes. I unwrap the hair from my finger. "You don’t want me. What we did ... it just happened. It was a onetime thing."
"It doesn’t have to be."
"Yes, it does. You’re engaged. You lied." Jealousy and self-directed anger unfurl in my stomach.
He nods and backs me up until my rear-end meets the dinette table.
I let him because I’m weak where he’s concerned. "Are the rumors about your family true? Is Harper right? And don't lie to me. Please. If you care about me at all, tell me the truth."
Chapter 6
SEBASTIAN BRUSHES THE backs of his fingers along my cheek. "Yes."
Breath catches in my throat, and my muscl
es tense. "Yes, the rumors are true?"
"Yes." He touches my waist and lifts me onto the table, wedging himself between my legs. "My father is in the Italian Mafia." He trails a finger down my neck and chest to where my shirt forms a V. "My grandfather lives in Sicily and is head of the Cosa Nostra." He says it with an Italian accent.
My heart races, part with concern and part with desire, which shows how pathetic I am.
He plays with the top button of my shirt, and the foolish girl that I am, I don't stop him. "I'm supposed to join my father in running the business after I graduate. Once I prove my worth and my loyalty to the family—to him—he'll pass the business to me, so I can take over." He sighs, the sound filled with torment. His fingers stop playing with my top button and his gaze grows distant.
"Is that what you want?" I whisper, the room so quiet it seems to echo.
He draws in a deep breath, releases it, and finds my gaze. "No. I'd rather cruise the US with you in this house on wheels. I'd rather do anything other than what I've been groomed to do." The honesty in his words eases my anger toward him—that and the pain on his face.
Do I believe his family is what he says they are? Maybe. It's all so surreal. I file it away to think about later when my head is clearer, and Sebastian isn't touching me. Maybe then I can make sense of whether I believe him or not. Regardless, I believe he doesn't want to follow his father's rule over him. I know all about that, even if it is on a lesser level.
"Are you betrothed to Marina?" If he lies about this I may walk out.
"According to her and my father, yes. He arranged it to gain more power. That’s all he cares about. I’m a pawn in his world. An end game. I always have been. I ended things with Marina a little while ago, although there wasn’t much to end. We’d, I’d, been keeping up appearances for my father, but I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t be a part of that lie. I never loved her. I sure as shit don’t want to marry her." Repulsion fills his eyes.
Not the response I wanted, but I believe he’s telling the truth, and that only in his mind, he’s not engaged. He doesn’t want to be, but his father seems to have the say in his life. For someone so strong and demanding, he seems to give in to his father's demands without a fight.
Harper’s comment about Marina and Sebastian having kinky sex all the time creeps into my thoughts. "Are you expected to have sex with her still? Do you want to?"
"Fuck no. And after what we did, I can’t imagine being with anyone else. I can still taste you on my lips, hear your little sounds, feel you coming apart in my arms. I would never dirty that memory by being with her. You are everything she's not. She's nothing compared to you."
An honest no would have been enough. Now, he's got me caught up in his sweet words. That, and the way he's looking at me and can't seem to stop touching me make it hard to remember why it’s a bad idea to be with him at all.
I run my fingers through the hair around his ear, brushing a scar I hadn’t noticed before. The ones on his face are obvious: his eyebrow and under his bottom lip.
"What happened here?" I run my thumb across the raised skin where the scar almost touches his earlobe.
"It's nothing."
"If it’s nothing then tell me." I hold his gaze.
He takes a minute to study me, like he’s debating if I can handle the truth.
"Tell me. Please," I whisper and lean in to plant a soft kiss on the scar.
His big, strong body shivers. He lifts a shoulder in a no-big-deal shrug. "It's one of many injuries given to me over the years since I was a child."
Given to him, not accidents that happened while playing sports or roughhousing with friends. Someone gave them to him since he was a child. It sounds like one of those stories you read or see in the news about parents who are disturbingly abusive. My stomach clenches with fear and a possessive rage.
"Why were you hurt?" I struggle to keep my voice calm.
"Accidents. Lessons. Mistakes. Punishments. The reasons made sense to my father. To toughen me up, to condition me, and prepare me for what is to come, for who I'll need to be." He grips my hips and slides me to the edge of the table as if needing to have me close. "It's all bullshit. I know who I need to be, and I despise him."
Him. His asshole father. My heart squeezes and my eyes burn. My mom is cold, but she never physically hurt me. A parent hurting you to the point of scars is a whole new level of abuse. I rest a hand on his chest. "I am so sorry for what happened to you. You shouldn’t have been hurt like that, especially by your dad. It’s wrong. Disgusting. You deserved better."
He shakes his head, his lips pressed in a hard line. "You wouldn't understand. My family isn't normal. This, what my father did to me, is normal to him. It's how he was raised." He eases back a little. Pulling away? When he's finally opening up?
"Okay." I don’t want to push him. I want to help ease some of his pain. "Is there anything I can do to make it better?"
"You being here, and being you makes everything better." He slides his hand under my shirt, his fingers brushing my bare stomach.
I suck in a breath and let out a small laugh as his touch tickles my skin. "Why do I make it better?"
"Because you’re so different, sweet and innocent. The complete opposite of everything they are and stand for."
"Why don’t you leave?" I run a thumb across the scar under his lip and give it a soft kiss.
Again, he shivers. "I can't." He dips his head and nips my earlobe.
I half-giggle, half-sigh. "Why not?"
He brushes his nose along my neck. "There's no escaping the mafia, especially when you're born into it. Don't you watch the movies?" he teases and plants a gentle kiss below my other earlobe.
My lips part with a breath and I quiver. "The movies aren't real."
"You'd be surprised at what's based on real life. Writers do their research and are good at mixing fact with fiction." He peers down at me with a soft expression. "I like your hair up. It shows off your big eyes." He kisses my eyelids. "Your beautiful skin." He kisses my cheeks. "And your incredible lips." He bends to them.
I lean away, unwilling to give in yet. As soon as I do, I'll lose all self-restraint, like the last time.
Still bent in the same about-to-kiss-my-lips position, his brows tighten, and he slowly straightens. "What's wrong?"
I scoot further back on the table, needing the distance from his hands, his everything. "I like you, and I know you're not available, it's just … I'm not a guy. When we finish messing around, I can't separate my emotions from my desires like a guy can. You're just so good at everything and you do magical things with your hands and your mouth and I don't want to become obsessed with you."
He cocks an eyebrow and flashes a wicked grin. "I'm okay with you being obsessed with me. I won't complain or press charges. I may, however, reward you with the orgasms you love so much."
"I don’t remember saying love. Like? Yes."
His warm hands glide up my calves. He cups the back of my knees and drags my body to his, and his straining erection.
Whoa. "Do you walk around like this, hoping to run into a willing victim?"
"Victim? More like honored female."
Laughter bursts from me.
He takes my hands and wraps them around his neck. "I only walk around like this when I'm with you."
"Riiight." I roll my eyes to the sky.
"You have no idea how attractive you are, or how memorable. One night with you and my brain was stuck on replay, only I wasn't an ass and the night ended in a much more pleasing way."
I want to believe him, to believe I have that kind of power, but I've seen his ex-girlfriend, fiancée, whatever she is, and Harper’s comment won’t leave my head. I know how girls like Marina are. Harper runs on a similar sexual frequency. I’m amateur hour. How is that memorable to a guy like him?
"What we did was minimal," I say. "I was barely naked."
"I'm glad you brought that up. I've been thinking of ways we can rectify that." H
is hands glide up my back to my bra strap.
I push away from him reminding myself he can never be more than a fling. "We can't do things like this. You're engaged to your ex-girlfriend. You might even have a wedding date set." Oh, God. What if they do, and it’s soon? "Do you?"
He lowers his gaze and nods.
My heart stops. "When?"
"It's set for the week after I graduate, but it won’t be a real marriage," he adds and lifts his eyes to study my face. "It’ll be open, a contract with zero exclusivity. My father is using it as a business merger to fuse our families together. She'll have her love interests and I'll have mine."
His words confirm what Harper said. She was right. The truth can be an ugly thing. It’s what I wanted from him, only I didn’t expect it to hurt so much.
I scoot further away until my back meets the RV window. "Let me get this straight. You’re marrying her even though you don’t want to, and you want a mistress on the side? Me or do you have others too?" My stomach pitches. I hadn’t thought about that. "You could have a haram for all I know. Women galore to choose from."
He jerks back like I slapped him. "I don’t have a haram. You’re being dramatic. And you know I don’t want to marry Marina. I don’t have a choice. You are the only girl I want." His voice softens, but his features stay pained.
"It doesn't change the facts," I murmur. My emotions are all over. Up, down, around like a damn roller coaster. And still, I can't make myself not want him, not care for him. I need to leave before I do something I’ll regret.
With a huff, Sebastian rakes his fingers through his hair and turns away.
I beeline for the door, but he's faster. Whirling around, he grabs the handle before I can.
I cross my arms and step back. "You can't keep me here."
"Why did you run? I thought we were talking."
"We were. We did, and nothing has changed." Except now I know the truth about Marina and his family and the mafia—if it's real. Yeah, he lied about it, but I understand why. Not that I like it, but I get that his life is too dark and twisted to share it with others.
The problem is mine. I like him. A lot. Too much for my own good. Now, I know why Nathan and Riley said, Sebastian's life is not his own. It's not in any way. He's not even free to marry who he wants. As much as I love the way he makes me feel, the way he touches me and turns me on like no one ever has, I know it's all he can ever give me.