My father would have said this wasn’t music.
God. Most of the people in this bar would say this wasn’t music.
But it was so Sebastian that it sent another round of tears skidding down my face, my tongue thick and my heart crippled by confusion, as I watched him in what was so clearly his element, a place where he was undeniably free.
Then the song shifted into some kind of harmony, and that beautiful voice he’d graced me with in my living room weeks ago twisted through the aggressive song. Something haunting, silky, and fluid. Lyrik was playing another guitar and stepped up to his mic to sing along to the chorus, Ash on the opposite side, face intense, lost in the bass line. Zee was elevated in the back pounding at a set of drums. Then the song took another turn and slammed back into those thrashing words.
My head jerked up with the light tapping at the door.
“Shea? It’s Tamar. You okay?”
Drawing in a breath, I forced myself to stand and cross the room. I hesitated at the door, before I finally unlocked it and cracked it open. Tamar quickly pushed through, shut it, and locked it behind her.
She frowned as she squinted at me through the subdued light of the room. Her face fell. “Not okay.”
Humorless laughter rolled from me, and I rubbed both my palms over my puffy, swollen eyes. “No. Not okay.”
Turning away, she paced on her blood-red heels and wrung her hands, huffed out a breath before she turned back to me and began to ramble. “I’m sorry, Shea. You have to know how terrible I feel over this. I should have said something a long time ago, but it was the first time I’d ever seen you interested in someone…and…and…” She hiked up her shoulders and dropped them in defeat. “I just wanted you to experience that.”
“You recognized him right off?”
Hands on her hips, she dropped her head and gave a quick nod, blazing blue eyes returning to mine. “Yeah. I kept waiting for you to catch on, but then I realized you really had no idea who he was. He made it clear he wanted to keep it that way, too, and as much as it killed me to keep my mouth shut, I decided it wasn’t my place to go blabbing to you.” She quirked a brow. “And you know how hard it was for me to keep my mouth shut.”
“It’s not your fault. I just feel stupid that I didn’t know.”
Hurt that he didn’t tell me.
Scared of what he was.
Intrigued by it all the same.
“Don’t. Their kind of music is obviously not your thing. I mean, you live in Savannah, Georgia, after all.” She winked, doing her best to lighten the mood.
“And it’s your thing?”
A grin flitted at the corners of her mouth and she pulled her phone from her back pocket, scrolled through and held it up, showing me her music player catalog that included three Sunder albums.
“You’re a fan.” It sounded like a disappointed statement, although I wasn’t entirely sure why I felt that way, like I’d been left out when she’d had a piece of Sebastian long before I ever had.
She rolled her eyes. “Um…I’m no fangirl…but I do like their music.”
“Really?” I asked, almost incredulous.
A smirk pulled at her red lips. “What? I like my boys tattooed and screaming.”
I laughed a little, but it broke over the emotion still clotted in my chest. I sank back into the office chair, and Tamar stepped over to me, ran her fingers gently through my hair. “Seriously, Shea…are you going to be okay? What happened out there…that couldn’t have been easy to take in.”
I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t.”
At first it’d been pure jealousy. I’d been sure Baz had stumbled upon an old lover. Or worse, maybe a not-so-old lover. The one thing I did know was he hadn’t been in town all that long, and a flood of insecurity had come barreling in. The fact I really didn’t know him or own him or possess him the way he possessed me, and I was hit again with the reality that I was soon going to lose this man.
The only promise he’d ever made me was the one that he was going to break me.
Standing at my side, she hugged my head. “He’s still out there, you know. The other guys took off pretty quickly after they’d been discovered.”
Slowly I nodded, not knowing what to make of that or what to make of him.
Did this knowledge really make him any different than who he’d been? The person he’d bared to me, the one he’d shown me, the glimpses of his soul he’d given without the benefit of the full picture?
“I’d better get back out there before Charlie comes looking for me.”
“Do you mind if I hang out in here for a while?”
“We’ve got it under control out there. Don’t worry about it.”
“Thanks.”
Tamar locked the door behind her when she left, and I sat in the near darkness while time crept by. Hours dragged, but I found I couldn’t make myself stand. At just after three, a key rattled in the lock and Charlie let himself in.
He sighed softly when he found me sitting at the desk with my head propped up in my hand, still feeling small and sad, but somehow resolved.
“We’re all finished up out there, Shea Bear.”
“Okay.”
His lips spread into a grim line, and he crossed his arms over his chest. Since I was a little girl, he’d always been my most staunch protector.
Until Baz.
Funny how after that night when I’d been thrown to the ground, it seemed Sebastian had stepped into that position, like he’d belonged there all along.
“He’s still out there,” Charlie warned. “I couldn’t get him to budge from behind that booth. He’s been sitting there all night.”
I nodded acceptance. “Go on. I’ll have him give me a ride home.”
“I don’t like it, Shea Bear.”
“I don’t like it, either.”
Regret filled his tone. “Can’t believe I didn’t see it. Make the connection that he’s one of Anthony’s boys.”
“Not your fault.”
“Feels like it is.”
My head shook slowly. “I don’t think it would have changed anything.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” His brow dented with concerned lines. “You scared of him?”
“Terrified,” I admitted.
But not in the way he thought. But Charlie just looked at me with sympathy, and I guessed the kind of fear that had me wound tight was exactly what he’d expected. He knew from where it was bred, why it was born.
“Be careful, sweetheart,” were the only words he issued before he closed the door behind him and left me to my own decisions, quietly supporting me the way he always had.
Charlie and my grandmother had been the two people to instill a true-kind of confidence in me, the ones who’d taught me to stand tall for what I believed in and to fight for what I wanted. Not the kind of confidence my mother had brainwashed me with. No. They taught me to look for the quiet answers beating in my heart.
I sat there for a couple more minutes, before I finally stood. A tremor rolled through me, and if it were possible, my heart beat faster.
Pound.
Pound.
Pound.
I drew in a shaky breath and opened the door. Darkness shrouded the kitchen that had been closed down for the night. Only a small lamp glowed from the back of the space, and I trailed my hand along the wall to guide me. At the swinging doors, I paused, stuck in the tension that grew thick and suffocating. Slowly I pushed on the door that led out into the main floor.
A tangle of convoluted emotions had me twisted up inside.
But what I ultimately felt had risen to the top.
I stood just inside the empty, dark room. Empty except for the one man who sat as a blackened silhouette, obscured in the shadows, the one who’d managed to strip me of all my defenses.
When I found him sitting there that first time, I thought I’d known better than to go looking for his brand of heartbreak. But Sebastian had revealed in me everything I’d been missi
ng, stamped out my loneliness, and inserted himself in its place. He made me believe in something I’d given up hope on a long time ago because I’d never found it to be real, never believing giving myself wholly to someone was worth the risk.
Now I knew better.
Now I knew it was worth everything.
My movements were cautious and slow as I began to move around the long bar, my gaze locked on him over the top of it, my heels echoing on the hardwood floors. Outside, a lone car roared by, the city on lockdown in the middle of the deep, deep night.
As I approached, Sebastian pushed out from under the booth, the huge bulk of this striking man rising to stand. Energy vibrated through him, hostility and anger and hurt.
And I knew that somewhere along the way I’d gained the power to hurt him, too.
Ten feet away from him, I fell to a stop, my heart beating frantic and wild, desire stampeding out ahead of it.
He lifted his chin, voice like gravel when he spoke. “You see me, Shea?”
His words collided with me, knocking the rest of my reservations free.
And again I lifted my chin in surrender. “Yes.”
Yes.
I’d never seen anyone so clearly.
Intensity billowed between us, like a spark before a summer storm. He fisted his hands, grey eyes rife with defensive anger, haunted by his own reality, and I knew he felt it, too. I wasn’t alone in all this confusion and doubt.
“Sebast—”
He cut me off by erasing the space. His hungry mouth was suddenly overpowering mine, stealing the words I needed to say. He wrapped the length of my hair up in his hand, forcing my head back as if every element that made him up demanded he get me closer.
His other hand snaked under my skirt and to my ass. Fingers dug in, gripping tight, pulling me flush against the solid mass of everything I wanted for my own.
I whimpered, fighting to form the words.
“Need this…need you,” he muttered at my lips, letting his hand slip down between my thighs from behind.
“Sebastian…” I attempted again, then completely gave when his tongue swept into my mouth.
Hot.
Urgent.
Ruthless.
My body came alive with this energy. With this connection that belonged only to us. Heat spread like wildfire, blistering below my skin, and Sebastian groaned, as if he felt the burn beneath his hands. He urged me back, pinning me up against the high-backed leather at the edge of the horseshoe booth, this secluded spot that had become his.
He broke our kiss and fastened his gaze on me, his throat bobbing heavily as he looked at me in a way I wasn’t sure he ever had before, as if he were begging me to hate him, and at the same time, promise I’d never let him go. His fingers curled in the front of my camisole exposed below my scoop-necked sweater, and he tugged it down, baring my breasts.
Thumbs flicked across the buds.
A fever of energy.
A rush of lust.
My head rocked back, and I gasped for a breath.
Feral eyes speared me and I lifted my arms, gripping my hair as I stared back at him, giving him more—showing him that I was offering all of me.
And I could feel his pulse, sense it move, a quickening of severity that pounded through his veins.
I suddenly felt powerful. Beautiful. A requirement for this stunning man.
Something like a growl rumbled in his chest, and he quickly spun me around. In the same second, his arm raked furiously across the booth tabletop, flinging his empties out of the way. One fell to the plush booth seat, another to the floor, the sound of glass crashing on the wooden floors the only noise against our ragged breaths.
He pressed me down with a hand to the back of my neck. Cold polished wood met my bare breasts, and another whimper passed from my tongue as he wedged his knee between my legs, spreading them apart. Air hit my backside as he bunched up my skirt. He yanked at my panties, ripping them free. I heard the rustle of his jeans, the tearing of foil—his body so close I could feel him rolling a condom on his cock.
I sucked in a breath, so turned on I couldn’t see.
Fingers glided through my exposed center. “You ready for me?”
That same heady threat, and I shook, bracing myself for the pleasure that only he could bring.
He rocked into me and I cried out, my mouth gaping open and my cheek pressed to the table as I writhed against the perfect intrusion, so big and full and better than anything I’d ever experienced in all my life.
Because he’d somehow become a part of my everything.
For a moment, he stilled. Then he withdrew and drove back in.
“Every time,” he grunted. “Every fucking time.”
Desperate fingers sank into my flesh, gripping my hips as he began to fuck me.
His movements were almost savage.
Sebastian was never gentle. But I could feel something inside him had slipped. Tripped. As if he’d sat out here alone, and during those passing hours he’d wondered if he’d ever get to touch me again and, now that he was, he was taking everything he could while he had the chance.
Frenzied, his thumbs raced along where we were joined.
Something about it felt intimate and raw and honest, and I was falling further, being sucked beneath the surface.
A stone in his sea.
Completely drowning in this man.
Sliding his hands up, he palmed the cheeks of my bottom. Spreading me wider. Taking me deeper.
“Do you feel me?”
Yes.
“Do you feel me, Shea?”
“Yes,” I mumbled frantically.
His thumbs ran up and down the crease of my ass, and I gasped out when he swirled a finger around the sensitive flesh, the man touching me in a way that no one else had, and again, my spirit trembled in fear.
In vulnerability.
Defenseless.
Slowly he pushed it inside.
I groaned and dragged a dizzying breath into my lungs, pulling away from him, pressing back, his touch beyond anything I could fathom, eclipsing thought, erasing reason.
Dark, dark pleasure blinded my eyes, indecent and decadent, and I clawed at the wood.
“You’re never gonna forget me, Shea.” Another threat. “Never.”
Every part of me tightened, that thrill swelling full and fast. Lifting me higher.
When in reality, I was falling.
Falling.
Falling.
Falling.
Until I finally hit the bottom.
Shattering.
Splintering.
Breaking completely apart.
Bliss spread far and wide, fragmenting out, saturating every cell in my being.
His name. His name. His name.
On a grunt, he jerked and he cried out mine, gripping me almost painfully, taking me as deeply as he could as his body shook with his release.
I could feel the tremor of his muscles, the power of his being, consuming me.
And there was no stopping them, the words that fought to be said. “I love you.” It tumbled from me as a small cry, no longer able to hold it back.
He froze, and my pulse dipped and thudded. So slow. Too loud. A weight bore down on me as I felt every intrinsic part of him detaching.
“Sebastian.” It was a plea made up of fear. I told him I didn’t have time for distractions. But more than that, I had no time for games. I hadn’t played them with him before and I refused to start now.
He needed to know.
Without a response, he pulled out and readjusted my skirt.
Covering me in the moment I was most exposed.
And that emotion was back, pressing firm and fast, squeezing brutally at my chest.
He stepped back, and I could hear him ridding himself of the condom, tossing it in the bin at the wall, wrestling with his jeans.
Tears resurfaced in my eyes, and I struggled to get my camisole up as my mind raced to catch up with the quick, deadly shif
t in his mood.
I flung around to face him. “Say something,” I demanded, though even to me, it sounded weak.
In the dim light, he stared back at me, all of those hard, hard scars evident in his eyes. “What do you want me to say, Shea? You want me to lie to you? Make you promises I can’t keep?”
Frantically, I shook my head. “No.”
“Then what?”
Wincing, I jerked my head down and to the side, as if it could avert his blows, the harshness behind his words.
“How about the truth?” he continued, taking a looming step forward. “You want that? Did you not get enough of it tonight? Seeing those girls? Do you have any clue about the kind of life I live?”
My attention flew back to him. “Show me,” I begged, my voice cracking. I couldn’t help bringing us back to that night, when he’d dared me to see him, when I’d already accepted there was no looking away.
Sharp, cutting laughter rocked from him. “You don’t want to see that life. Now that’s something I can promise you.” He pointed to the kitchen door behind him. “Did you look me up while you hid out in there?” It was almost an accusation, and I recoiled at the bitterness he spat from his mouth.
That pretty, pretty mouth that I loved and adored.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.
“Did you see, Shea? Did you see that in a couple of months I’m probably going back to jail? Did you see I’ve been there before?” Grief hitched his breath. “Did you know my best friend died because of me?”
I flinched with every spouted reason he gave for me to hate him, for me to take back my admission. I backed farther into the table, shoulders up to my ears as if it could protect me from the agony he seemed intent on bringing us both.
He promised he would wreck me.
When did I stop believing him?
“You want your daughter around someone like me?”
That one hit me hard, and those tears I’d been trying to keep in check fell, uncontrolled. “Someone like you?” I asked, incredulous, pushing back. “Someone who makes her smile and laugh? Someone who listens to her like a four-year-old has the most important things to say? Someone who steps up to protect her mother? Someone like that?”
A Stone in the Sea Page 18