Ruined

by Shiloh Walker

  She tugged at his jeans.

  Impatient, he went to deal with it, but she slapped his hands away. “Mine,” she said, her voice husky.

  Well. He was okay with that.

  It was the truth anyway, even if she didn’t realize that. Everything about him was hers.

  “You make my brain melt.” He managed to keep his voice easy and calm as he said it, although his fingers shook a little as he cupped her face. Her eyes were hazy, hot with need. She focused on his face and the smile that curled her lips was enough to make a saint weep.

  That lovely face . . . she could have played Helen of Troy—she might have been Helen of Troy. Beautiful beyond words, but Sebastien’s obsession with Marin Lassiter wasn’t because she was beautiful.

  Beauty alone wasn’t enough to trip him up. He was surrounded by beautiful women and he knew how shallow that beauty could be. Marin might have been beautiful, but that wasn’t what had him ready to go to his knees in front of her.

  Slowly, he slid one hand down the midline of her torso, staring into her eyes as he cupped her in his hand. Wet heat greeted him. Parting her slick folds with one finger, he caught the broken moan that fell from her on his lips. She moved against his hand, her nails digging into his shoulders as the rhythm of her body became more demanding.

  She was slippery and tight and the thought of feeling her around him was enough to make him crazy. She closed her fingers around his cock and he growled. Wrenching her hand away, he tumbled her onto her back and shoved his jeans down, freeing himself. He settled between her thighs and cupped her face in his hands. “This isn’t the last time, Marin.”

  A shaky breath left her.

  “It’s not.” Sebastien licked at the entrance to her mouth before he continued. “I want to lay between your thighs and eat you up like candy, and then I want to start all over again.”

  Her face went pink. Sebastien pretended not to notice as he bit her lower lip, tugging gently. “How do you feel about that?”

  “I think . . . I think I’m okay with it.”

  Okay? Marin’s saner self—that one part of her mind that could still think and wasn’t a jabbering, wilting mess of nerves and need—yet—laughed at her. She wasn’t okay with anything that didn’t involve him coming inside her now.

  “Good.”

  But the way he’d said it, and what he was doing . . .

  He kissed her, his hair falling down to brush against her face. She cupped his cheeks in her hands. Her thumb brushed against the ragged lower edge of the scar and she held him close when he would have tugged away.

  His bare legs rubbed against hers. Her breath caught, held in her lungs and she arched up, that desperate, hungry need starting to coil inside her. Marin slid her hands down his chest, feeling his chest hair against her hands. She tugged on it lightly and he grunted, muttering her name. He pushed his knee between her thighs and the feel of him moving against her had her arching higher, trying to get closer.

  She had the fanciful thought that he could dissolve inside her and it wouldn’t be enough. Continuing the downward path with her hands, she caught his hips and pulled demandingly. Sebastien caught her wrists, dragging them up.

  “In such a rush.” He nuzzled her neck before lifting his face up to meet her eyes.

  She didn’t want to look at him, though. She felt more than naked with him like this—she felt exposed.

  Curling her legs around his hips, she stared at him from under her lashes. “Yes. I am. Are you going to make me wait?”

  “Witch.”

  He moved high and when she felt the head of his cock, she gasped. One more move had him gliding back and forth between the wet folds of her sex and Marin whimpered, arching up to take him deeper.

  Her eyes drifted closed and she fell into a sea of sensation and hot, molten pleasure.

  “No,” Sebastien whispered as he started to pull back. “Don’t look away. Don’t close me out.”

  Forcing her eyes to open, she stared at him. He pulled out and surged back in, deeper, harder and the aching need inside her spread, growing until she knew it would swallow her whole. She clutched at his hand, her nails biting into his skin.

  Even when his mouth took hers in another deep, drugging kiss, she couldn’t look away.

  He didn’t, either.

  It was madness and bliss, and he rode her hard, pushing them straight into the heart of it.

  She exploded, dissolving into sensation.

  Sebastien raced along after her, all but chasing the orgasm, and when his cock swelled, then pulsed inside her, she whimpered, twisting against him. It was too much. Too much.

  ***

  They lay side by side in the darkness. Sebastien was on his side and he had the flat of his hand spread over her belly.

  Marin would have been over the moon happy if she could just figure out how Sebastien felt.

  She’d been afraid for so long and now . . .

  “How did you feel when you found out?” Sebastien asked in the dark.

  “I . . .” Frowning, she thought through the question and realized it was one she hadn’t really considered much.

  Had she thought about how she’d felt?

  She’d known how she felt especially after a few days and the time to think it all through. She wanted the baby, was more excited about him, was more excited than she could ever recall being about anything.

  “I was . . . happy.” The smile came unbidden. She looked toward his face, realizing her eyes had adjusted well enough that she could see him despite the dim light that filtered in. “I am happy. I . . . well, I haven’t told my folks yet, but I know they’ll be happy, too.”

  He put his hands on her belly and started to rub in slow circles.

  She turned her face toward his. “What about you?”

  Sebastien didn’t know how to put what he was feeling into words. He’d never been particularly good when it came to explaining himself. He could make a character come alive; people who didn’t even exist—well, he could make those people relatable to millions of viewers. But one on one? When it came to things that mattered? He knew how to be charming in interviews and he knew how to say the things people wanted to hear, but all of that was shallow shit.

  How could he tell Marin that he’d spent the past couple of months reading up about babies and pregnancy and that he could tell that sometimes her back bothered her already and he knew she wasn’t sleeping too great lately? Well, he could tell her but he’d sound like a fucking stalker.

  Uncertain, he flattened his hand over her belly and slid his eyes up to her face. “I told you earlier. I don’t think words can cover what I’m feeling.”

  Faint light from the narrow slit in the curtains fell across her face and he could just make out her eyes. A faint smile curled her lips and she moved in closer. As she snuggled up against him, he tucked her head under his chin and closed his eyes.

  They could make this work.

  Damn. He was going to be a dad.

  ***

  Phone calls at four in the morning weren’t welcome. Having somebody knock on the door was slightly less annoying, but only slightly. Marin was still trying to knuckle the sleep out of her eyes when she realized Sebastien was already at the door, speaking to somebody in a low voice.

  She forced herself upright and grabbed her robe from the foot of her bed, slipping into it just as he closed the door.

  “What was that?”

  “Somebody from the front desk.” He came toward her and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her in close.

  Heat pierced the fog of sleep as he untied the belt and slid his hands around her waist, drawing her in closer.

  “What’d they want?” She was trying to focus and he was busy trying to distract her.

  “Message from Sojo. We’ve got the next four days off.” The words were s
poken against her belly and she caught her breath as he went lower, his tongue coming out to stab at her clit through her curls.

  Message . . . dimly, she realized there was probably more to that message than he’d relayed.

  Then he circled his tongue around her clit and the ability to think just sort of faded away. Her knees went weak and he caught her, easing her back onto the bed. He came up over her and kissed her, the taste of her mingling with the taste of him and she moaned. She reached for him, her fingers digging into the heavy ridge of muscle at his back.

  Denim rubbed against her thighs and she pulled back from his kiss long enough to ask, “Why are you wearing clothes?”

  “Because I try to avoid answering doors naked.” There was a laugh in his voice but it was gone in an instant as she reached between them and tore at the opening of his jeans.

  She had his cock in her hand in seconds and when she stroked up, then down, Sebastien muttered her name, voice low and rough. When she repeated the caress, he shoved himself into her palm, reaching between them to cover her hand with his, tightening her grip.

  He braced his weight on his free elbow, lifting up to stare at her, the blue-green of his eyes locking with hers.

  She passed her thumb over the head of his cock, felt the dampness seeping out.

  He stopped with a snarl and nudged her thighs wide. “Now.”

  “You’re the one who stopped to get dressed,” she reminded him. She might have said something else, but he was inside her in the next moment and the only noise she was capable of making was a long, wordless keen of hunger.

  She moaned as he pulled out and surged back in, each dig of his hips taking him deeper and deeper. Marin couldn’t even tell where he ended and she began, but she knew that he still wasn’t close enough. Clutching him to her, she sank her teeth into his ear and gasped out his name. His cock swelled inside her, big, thicker. It was too much.

  Her climax seemed to open up under her, swallowing her whole.

  It wracked her entire body, spasms that left her shuddering and twisting against him. When it ended, she was so drained, she couldn’t even move. One hand slid off his back to smack bonelessly against the floor.

  Sebastien said something to her, but the words didn’t make much sense. She was already half-asleep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Her first thought was that she’d overslept.

  Sunlight was coming in through the curtains and she knew that wasn’t right. She was supposed to have been on set when the sun came up, so if the sun was up . . .

  She jerked upright and saw Sebastien tucking something into somebody’s hand—money, her mind filed away—while two others bustled around, setting up breakfast. Her belly grumbled, particularly at the smell of bacon.

  “Sebastien . . .”

  His gaze slanted toward her, a smile crooking up his lips. But he just kept speaking in low tones to the hotel staff. The man in front of him didn’t even look at Marin, just dipped his head and said, “Of course, Mr. Barnes. You needn’t be concerned.”

  She had no doubt what they were discussing—Sebastien was asking for discretion. The concierge—she recognized him—was assuring him they’d have it.

  There was a fifty-fifty chance. The concierge was a nice guy. She liked him and she could tell he liked his job. It was the others she didn’t know about. But she’d already resigned herself to the fact that news about her and Sebastien was going to come out, probably sooner than later. After yesterday, it wasn’t even a question now. If somebody was going to sell that story to the tabloids, she’d rather it be somebody who needed the money instead of somebody on set looking to be petty. It had happened to her more than once.

  The doors soon closed behind the hotel staff and they were left alone.

  She held the blanket to her breasts as Sebastien came toward her, wearing only his jeans, the light dusting of hair leading down in a thin ribbon toward the low-slung waistband of said jeans. “What . . .” She cleared her husky throat. “What’s this?”

  “Breakfast in bed. Sorry to wake you, but we’ve got to hit the road soon.”

  “We . . .” She frowned at him. “Why are we hitting the road?”

  “We’ve got a few days off. I thought we’d do something useful with them.” He picked up two plates and came toward her, offering her one, and then putting his down on the table next to the bed.

  She studied hers, found it loaded down with scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. While he went back to where the breakfast had been so elegantly spread out, she picked up a piece of bacon and nibbled on it. Sebastien grabbed two glasses of juice and came back to her. “We’ve got a plane to catch in four hours.”

  That had her arching a brow. “Is that right?” She could just bet she knew what he was thinking.

  “Yeah.” He put her glass of juice down, but lifted his to his lips and half guzzled it. “I thought we could go to Tennessee, tell your folks.”

  She bobbled the plate. “Tuh . . . We’re going to Tennessee.”

  “Unless you’d rather call them.” He leaned forward then, eyes serious. “After yesterday, people are going to talk. People are going to speculate. After you passed out on the set, and then what happened between us . . . sooner or later, somebody is going to toss it out there and this time, they’ll be right. I’d rather tell my parents. Wouldn’t you?”

  Instead of answering, she nibbled on another piece of bacon. Taking her time, Marin drank some juice, and then looked over at him. Because she knew Sebastien, she asked, “And when do we head to San Francisco?”

  “We don’t.”

  “We don’t,” she echoed, not quite believing him.

  “It’s . . . ah . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, you know Abby’s birthday is coming up. It’s on Sunday. Zane’s is on Wednesday. My folks are going to be in Tucson this weekend, so I thought we’d crash the party.”

  “And the movie?” She frowned at him. “You never did tell me why Sojo announced the sudden break.”

  “Yeah. That.” Face grim, he looked away. “Sojo’s mother passed away. She had to leave to make arrangements. I . . . Hell, I called her earlier, offered my condolences. She told me to keep them, expects us all to be back and ready to work our asses off come Tuesday. Doesn’t much sound like she’s grieving. She just sounded pissed off.”

  “Sojo’s mother threw her out of the house when she came out about being a lesbian.” Marin plucked at the sheet. “They reconnected—sort of—over the past year, but it wasn’t really friendly. It was mostly just being cordial if they saw each other at other family events. Her mother never really forgave Sojo for . . . well, for being Sojo...” Marin shrugged.

  “Bullshit.” Sebastien shook his head. “Why’s Sojo even bothering to help, then? Let other family members do it.”

  “Because Sojo still loved her mother. And if she sounded pissed off, that might be why.”

  ***

  Telling her parents had been easy compared to this. And oddly enough, neither of them had been surprised.

  Mom had given her an appraising look when they’d shown up on the front porch and Marin had the weirdest feeling that her mother had known—maybe not about the baby, but about her and Sebastien.

  Of course, her father had teased them both something awful about her snagging a younger man. Sebastien had taken it all in good-natured humor and after spending the night, they’d caught a flight to Arizona.

  This was going to be the hard one.

  She didn’t know why, but ever since she’d disembarked in Tuscon, she’d been entirely too nervous.

  She didn’t get it.

  She was about as close to Ron and Denise as she was to her own parents—they were like a second family. This should be easy.

  Speeding down the highway in Sebastien’s rented Corvette, Marin found herself lifting her hand to her lips—t
o bite her damn nails. A habit she’d broken years ago.

  She stopped and clenched her hand into a fist, turning her head to stare out at the desert around them.

  “Why are you nervous?”

  “Who says I am?” Marin shot Sebastien an easy smile, determined not to let him see how her belly felt like it had gone and twisted itself into a hundred thousand knots. It was just plain stupid. She was going to see Ron and Denise, the rest of the brothers, and Abigale. The only person she didn’t know particularly well was Keelie, but they’d always gotten along. No reason to be nervous.

  Sebastien held out a hand.

  Curious, she looked down and then put hers in his.

  “Other hand.”

  Rolling her eyes, she complied. She’d already uncurled the fist. The second their skin touched, he turned her palm upright. “You’ve gouged your nails into your skin. But you’re not nervous.”

  Snatching her hand away, she tucked her hand under her thigh, hiding those little half moons of evidence from him. “Don’t be silly. There’s no reason to be nervous. I mean, I’ve known your parents for more than half my life. Zach is like a brother to me.”

  “Yeah.” There was a faint half smile on Sebastien’s face as he hit the blinker and started to slow down. A massive house up ahead caught her eye. “That’s the place.”

  Marin lifted her brows. “Wow.”

  “Yeah. So . . . since there’s no reason for you to be nervous . . .”

  She smacked him on the thigh. “Shut up.”

  ***

  It was almost like any other get together with them.

  Marin sat on a lounge chair under a huge sun umbrella. Both Sojo and Geneva would have her hide if she went back with any kind of tan or sunburn. Slathered in sunscreen and hiding under the protection of the umbrella, she felt confident she’d avoid incurring their wrath and she was quite comfortable. The heat of the day made her lazy, and when Sebastien brought her some tea, she guzzled almost half the glass before stopping.