A Million Different Ways (A Horn Novel Book 1)

by Dangelico, P.

  Diana Redman found her voice after two Bellinis and a half a bottle of Haute Brion. “Sugar, you should show everyone your pets later.”

  “Are you still keeping red tails?” Mr. Hightower asked. He swirled the Bordeaux in his glass before lifting it to his lips.

  Sebastian’s turned his attention to Charles Hightower and his gaze shifted from detached to warm in an instant. It was amazing to watch. I wondered if anyone else noticed although it didn’t seem so.

  “Just the ones I rescued,” Sebastian answered.

  “Fearsome creature, the red tail hawk, also hardier than the peregrine.”

  “Yes, as you know my father preferred peregrines.”

  “You’re father resisted progress in many ways. I have no doubt that you’ll do what it takes.”

  Sebastian didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his words were measured. “My father didn’t understand the pace that the financial world operates in today. But I’ll give him credit, we may not have grown exponentially, like some other institutions, but we also aren’t stuck holding a large share of Greek debt. And we never bought into the derivatives scam. Our reputation worldwide is intact…I owe that all to him.”

  Charles Hightower raised his goblet of wine in the air and tapped the glass gently. “A toast to Heinrich. May he rest in peace knowing he left the Horn family legacy in skilled and capable hands. To another hundred years of prosperity.”

  * * *

  Once the table was cleared and all the contents of the bar were safely put away, Mrs. Arnaud insisted I rest. As I made my way to my bedroom, I heard uneven footsteps echoing down the hallway and noticed Sebastian up ahead. He was walking stiffly. Something didn’t feel right. Without a second thought, I followed him into the library, watching him grimace with every step he took. He entered and immediately turned left, walking past the rows and rows of bookcases to where the cobalt blue couches sat under a wall of windows. It had started raining shortly after lunch and was still coming down gently, tapping on the glass, filling the room with a soft rhythmical lullaby. I shouldn’t have followed him but I knew he was in pain and too proud to let anybody see him in that condition. I just wanted to reassure myself that he didn’t need any help.

  By the time I reached him, he was spread out with his injured leg resting straight on the couch and the other foot flat on the ground, his arm covering his face. I bit my lip, uncertain if I should disturb him.

  “Sebastian?” His arm came down. The spark of surprise in his eyes turned thoughtful. “Can I get you anything? Your pills?”

  He shook his head. “Come here,” he said, as I turned to leave. When I hesitated, he held out an outstretched hand. “Please.”

  My steps were tentative as I walked over and sat on the ottoman in front of the sofa. He took my hand, gently stroked my knuckles with his thumb, and placed it on his injured knee. I looked up into wide pleading eyes and a thousand unspoken words crossed between us. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, yet trusting me to understand––the moment exponentially more intimate than if he had kissed me.

  Shifting, I sat between his legs, closer to the injured one, and began massaging it. His lashes fluttered before his eyes closed. I felt his hand come to rest possessively on my knee, completing a circle, anchoring himself to me.

  “The recoil of the gun––” he said softly. “You have to stand with your knee bent and absorb the force.”

  “And naturally you had to take more turns than everyone else.” His lips twitched in amusement. A fiercely competitive man, there was no way he would have let anyone outdo him, even at a considerable cost to his health. The tension drained from his muscles as he relaxed into my touch. I watched his expression transform from tense to blissfully serene and felt a surge of triumph, knowing I could do that for him. I liked that he needed something from me…I tried not to examine that too closely. “When did you last take your pain medication?”

  He didn’t open his eyes, just sighed deeply. “An hour ago.”

  “Oh.”

  “This is better than the oxy.”

  “You’re building tolerance to this dose too quickly.”

  “I know.” The hand resting on my knee started to travel higher up the inside of my thigh. I covered his hand to stop him, and the corners of his mouth crept up in a sexy smile.

  “I see you’re feeling better,” I scolded, fighting a grin of my own. “I should be going. They’re probably wondering where I am.”

  He grasped my wrist to stop me. “Not yet.” The boyish whine in his voice was impossible to resist.

  Then the door opened and voices entered the room. My anxious gaze snapped to his relaxed one. Panic stricken that we would be discovered, I tugged on my wrist but he wouldn’t let go. The shameless seducer knew I was in no position to make a fuss. Pulling me closer, he pressed his index finger to his lips and shook his head. I came crashing down on top of his chest. He wrapped one arm around my waist and shoved the other hand in my hair, destroying the neat arrangement of my bun. A huge white grin spread across his face as I struggled in vain to push up, no match for his strength.

  I tried to evade his marauding hand but it was futile––it fell in disorderly clumps over my shoulders. His laughing gaze roamed over my features, tracing every angle, absorbing every detail. When it landed on my lips, his expression turned serious. His eyes grew heavy-lidded and his soft lips reached for mine. He nibbled my bottom lip, licked the seam until I opened for him. Every part of me melted under his tender ministration. And as he deepened the kiss, I suddenly didn’t care who walked in on us.

  “The DOJ is being very thorough.”

  Marcus. I pulled back and glanced at Sebastian. He continued stroking my spine with unhurried care while his eyes narrowed and his attention pivoted to the conversation.

  “We have nothing to worry about. Sebastian has everything under control,” Mr. Hightower responded. That silky accent was unmistakable.

  “Yeah, but do you have control of Sebastian?”

  “Relax, Marcus. Take the poker out of your arse.”

  “I’m not the only one that’s nervous, Charles.”

  “Let me handle them. You, on the other hand, need to pay more attention to your wife. I saw her stumbling around the living room a short while ago.”

  “Fuck!” Determined footsteps walked out of the room, followed a minute later by slower, softer ones.

  “What was that about?” I whispered. Sebastian’s gaze was far away, thoughtful.

  “I’m not sure but I intend to find out.”

  “What’s a DOJ?”

  His eyes returned to me bright and smiling. “Curious little thing, aren’t you,” he murmured. “U.S. Department of Justice, they’re going after tax evaders.”

  “Oh,” was all I could think to say because my mind was quickly going numb, lulled into a relaxed, sensual fog by the rise and fall of his chest. The heat emanating from him soaked into my body and turned me boneless. The comfortable silence between us slowly morphed into something else altogether. His eyes, sulky, smoldering with naked lust, drifted to my kiss-bruised lips again.

  “I want you.” It was one of the sexiest things I had ever heard, full of unabashed confidence and naked honesty. I drew back, feeling trapped, unsure. Although my body didn’t share that uncertainty––it knew exactly what it wanted. The feel of his rock-hard shaft pressed against me was enough to send every ounce of blood in my body to that area. He wouldn’t let me squirm away, held me steady in his warm embrace, and nudged me with his erection while he stroked my bottom in lazy caresses that had me aching for him. “Come to my room tonight. Be there by eleven.”

  “I can’t,” I said, shocked back to reality from the pheromone fog I was drifting in.

  “You will,” he buried his knowing smile on the side of my neck and kissed me softly, “because you want me as much as I want you.”

  When I pushed off, he let me go and tucked his hands neatly behind his head. I stared at his sexy, confident smil
e and attempted to herd my scattered thoughts. It rankled that all my resolve and good judgment crumbled in the face of his charisma. “We can’t,” I said in a shaky voice. He didn’t say another word. That smug smile on his face said more than enough. So I did the only thing I could, I bolted out of the library, putting as much distance between me and temptation as possible.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I lay in bed watching the minutes tick by on that blasted clock, debating whether I should get up and chuck it out the window. Unspent desire was making me restless and irritable. I slipped out of my underwear and kicked off the covers in a fruitless effort to cool off the heat beneath my skin. I tried everything to find a comfortable position, but every time I closed my eyes I saw him. That sexy smile playing on those soft lips. The sensual flare in his eyes.

  I turned on my stomach and my hand sank down below my belly, over the soft worn linen pressed up against my enflamed skin, lower still to the place that felt empty and achy. Sensual images tormented me. Those eyes, warm and fiery one moment and fathomless the next, tempting me to join him in a dangerous game. The gilded silky skin of his muscular chest. Those pants hanging precariously, baring his hipbones.

  Because you want me as much as I want you…and I did, I just didn’t like being an open book. That made me cringe. He already had scores of women panting after him, to count myself among them was aggravating, and that he knew it was worse.

  Jumping out of bed, I pushed the curtains aside, and opened the window. A warm breeze blew my hair back. At the edge of the garden, a dark figure disappeared into the copse of trees, a familiar hitch in his step… and then I knew what I had to do, what I couldn’t resist doing if my life depended on it. I raced out of my room without a second thought.

  I followed him across the north forest, straining to keep up with him. Considering his injury, he was surprisingly quick on foot.

  When we reached the lake, I hid behind an old oak tree and stared with eyes wide in wonder as he ripped his t-shirt off and pushed down his pants, exposing the muscular globes of his delicious backside…mentally tracing the dents on the side of the muscle. The good Lord spared no expense making this man. I gripped the bark tightly, not even feeling it dig into my flesh.

  He dove into the water with uncommon grace. I expected him to be a skilled swimmer but I wasn’t prepared for the power and beauty of him cutting across the width of the lake. Poetry in motion, every stroke efficient and dynamic––like everything else he did. After four laps, he swam back to shore.

  In the water, he was all grace and elegance but when he stepped on dry land, he faltered a bit as he reached for the cane propped up against a large rock. Less Greek God, more human being. He made no attempt to cover himself, stood naked and dripping wet, daring me to take a good look. And what I saw took my breath away. He was hard, thrusting up proudly. Holy shhh…

  “I think you know how much I want you.” His deep, raspy voice ripped through the silence of the night. How could I possibly miss it?

  I stepped out from behind the ancient oak––it seemed silly to pretend I wasn’t there––and stood fidgeting with my nightgown, nervous and ridiculously turned on. My eyes swept over him. Moonlight bounced off his broad shoulders and spilled down the slopes of his smooth chest. My gaze followed the ragged, angry scar that snaked down from his hipbone, around his thigh and knee, and ended abruptly at his ankle. But his erection…it was perfect…long and thick and thrusting towards his flat stomach. In an instant, every once of blood in my body converged below my waist. When my gaze returned to his face, I found his lids at half-mast, eyes blazing with hunger.

  “How did you know?” I asked. Tipping his head to the side, his lips quirked. I was a foregone conclusion basically. I rolled my eyes, more at myself than at him.

  “Come here,” he purred, his American accent making him sound casual and unassuming even though he was issuing a command. My body knew what it wanted far before my mind was ready to concede defeat. My feet obeyed without hesitation, carrying me to him. He reached out slowly, clasped my forearm, and pulled me flush against his naked body: heat, lust, and water soaking the front of my linen nightshirt. My nipples puckered at the abrasive feeling of the wet fabric, while the rest of me buzzed with anticipation as his sex pressed against my stomach. All heat and hardness. I gasped at the feel of it.

  He held my face as his soft lips descended onto mine, brushing back and forth until I let him in, teasing me to join him in equal measure. I’d never been kissed like this. Like time meant nothing, and there was no reason for kisses but the kisses themselves. Lazy, rich kisses. To Aleksander every sensual act was a means to something else, something more; skill was a tool to get what he wanted. With Sebastian every sensual moment was suspended, with no beginning or end, making me all the more impatient to have him.

  “I’ve wanted this…” he whispered, his lips hovering close enough to mine that I could feel the sound on my skin. “For so long.”

  When I gazed into his amber eyes, illuminated by the crescent moon, they revealed much more than lust. There was plenty of that, but there was also a recognizable wariness, as if he was one step removed from really being there.

  The pads of his fingers traced the contours of my face: the bridge of my nose, my cheekbones, my eyebrow. “Beautiful,” he murmured. His thumb stroked the fullness of my bottom lip, seeking entrance. My lips parted for him in welcome. I watched his nostrils flare when I sucked on it. Then I bit down hard.

  “Jeeeezus.” In an outburst of unbridled passion his lips came crashing down on mine, insisting I surrender to him.

  The hard truth was that he had been undeniably in control since the start. I was his to do with as he wished, a mindless slave to his erotic charms. And I was tired…so tired, tired of being good, tired of being strong, tired of being defensive. I wanted him to take me. I wanted to relinquish everything to him. I reached for his smooth chest and he trapped my hand over his heart. Covering it with his own, he slowly coaxed it lower, over the landscape of his hard muscles, the ridges of his abdomen, and onto the smooth heat of his erection.

  “Say my name.”

  His beautiful sex pulsed in my grip. Firmly under his spell, I whispered it, “Sebastian.”

  He guided me up and down the hard column. His girth was impressive, a little too impressive. A pang of unease hit me as I began to wonder how my body would be able to accommodate him.

  “Trust me.” He exhaled sharply as my grip tightened. Did I trust him? Inexplicably, I did. His other hand wrapped around my waist and coasted down to my rear end, caressing, petting. His eyes widened. “No underwear?”

  I shook my head, too embarrassed to admit that I had been touching myself to the thought of him before I followed him out here. A trace of a knowing smile touched his sensual mouth. My thumb stroked across his swollen crown, pre-cum spreading across the velvety slit, while my other hand cradled the heavy weight of his sac and squeezed gently. His forehead furrowed and the muscles on his jaw pulsed.

  “Stop. I’m too close,” he mumbled, his voice strained as he pried my fingers loose and kissed my palm.

  Taking control, he sat on the flat surface of a large rock, and pulled me in between his spread legs, gripping my hips possessively. My fingers wove through his silky hair as his mouth found the tight, pink nipple pushing through the wet fabric of my nightshirt. I could feel the warmth of his tongue, the scrape of his teeth before he sucked hard. A jagged burst of energy shot to the apex of my thighs, and my toes curled.

  I hardly noticed when he grabbed the hem of my nightshirt and pulled it up over my head, leaving me completely exposed to his unambiguously lusty stare. I thought the blanket of night would loosen me up. No such luck. Modesty returned in a heartbeat. I immediately became self-conscious, hiding my small breasts in my hands. It had been ages since anyone had seen me naked.

  “Don’t,” he said, as my eyes met his. “Don’t take away my pleasure.”

  His pleasure? I would’ve given
him anything he asked for. He had the power to enslave me with one glance. I lowered my hands and he pulled me closer, spreading soft kisses on my breasts while his skilled fingers found the slickness between my legs. My nails dug into his shoulders while he played with me, stroking deeply until my legs threatened to buckle.

  “Christ, you’re wet,” he muttered. “Say it, say you want me,” he commanded.

  When I didn’t answer right away, his mouth feasted on my breasts, turning my body against me.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?” His fingers stilled and I practically mewled.

  “Yes, I want you,” I said impatiently, and his fingers mercifully resumed their wicked assault.

  “Beg me.” Another command. I should have been annoyed, but I was too turned on to care.

  “I beg you, Sebastian. Please. I want you, you know I want you.”

  “Only me. Understand?”

  As if anyone could even begin to compare.

  “Yes! Yes!”

  I was rapidly descending into a state of sexual insanity––if there is such a thing––trembling with need, blinded by lust. He petted and teased, tugged on my nipples with his sweet mouth in an orchestrated rhythm that had me on the verge of disintegrating. When he pulled his skilled fingers out, I heard myself scream, “Nooo!”

  He placed me standing on top of the rock. Before I had time to think, his sweet mouth was on me again, tugging gently in a pulse, caressing me with his hot tongue. An intense spike of pleasure screamed through me and a veil of sweat broke out over every inch of my skin. Bouncing between pleasure and pain, I was on the verge of splintering apart.

  “Don’t come yet,” he had the audacity to command while every muscle in my body tensed. His voice was gentle, even though this was no suggestion. I desperately wanted to please him so I fought it, biting the inside of my cheek in an effort to distract myself.

  “Kneel.” I was suddenly standing on solid ground. His shirt fluttered down and I lowered myself in front of him without hesitation. He was circumcised––how American. The utter perfection of his manhood was mesmerizing; I couldn’t wait to worship it. I wanted to make him lose his mind like he was doing to me.