I blinked back tears as this amazing man mirrored my thoughts from just hours ago.
An old sorrow passed through his eyes. “Time doesn’t sit still and I want to make every second I get to spend with you count. Don’t want to wait for the right time when all of time is right with you.”
Emotion spread through my chest, warmth stretching out to touch every place inside me, and euphoria spilled over, the same as the tears in my eyes. “All of time. Every minute. Every second.”
A gush of air rushed from his lungs and he pushed up on both hands, this stunning man hovering over me. “Do you see me, Shea?”
I took his face in my hands. “I will never look away.”
And neither of us did as Sebastian slowly filled me, the man always so rough and desperate and raw, handling me as if I were glass.
Time given to cherish this moment.
For all of time.
My body took his as he stretched me in the most exquisite way.
Deeply.
Completely.
So full he stole my breath.
Just the same as this man had stolen my heart.
I blinked against the dark, just shimmers of light breaking through the satiny drapes that hung across the glass doors leading to the balcony. Faint sounds of the bustling city echoed from far below.
I awoke to an empty bed. Though I wasn’t alone. I could feel his presence surrounding me. Sitting up, I heard the distant strains of an acoustic guitar rising from downstairs, that beautiful, beautiful voice for a beautiful, beautiful man quieted.
Yet it was the only thing I could hear.
I climbed from the bed and wrapped myself in a sheet, padded quietly out the door. I paused at the top of the stairs.
Sebastian sat on the floor with his back propped against the couch, facing away, shoulders bare, guitar cradled in his lap.
Words floated up. The soft pluck of the strings and a mellow melody stretched out to touch my soul.
Slowly I edged down the winding staircase, one hand on the smooth rail as I clutched the sheet to my chest with the other.
The muscles in his back tensed and bowed when he felt my approach, but there was no hitch in his song. Just the sweet, sweet sound urging me toward him.
Barefoot, I stepped onto the cool marble at the landing, and shuffled deeper into the living space. Inch by inch. I rounded the side of the couch and came to a stop three feet in front of him.
Eyes slowly lifted to mine, this stunning man capturing me in the heavy weight of his stare.
Lights flashed and glowed from the windows overlooking the city. Colors flickered across his face, those bold, beautiful lines striking in the night.
And it was like instinct—like magic—when Sebastian halted the song he was composing, just long enough to lift the guitar from his lap and welcome me onto it.
He’d pulled on a pair of old jeans that had been worn soft, and he parted his legs just enough to make me room. I settled on the floor between his legs with my back to his bare chest, the cool, thin sheet against his warm skin sending goosebumps across my flesh.
He exhaled a harsh breath at the contact, his heartbeat a deep, steady thrum. He situated the guitar on my lap and wrapped me in his hold.
The intricate color engraved over his arms seemed to whirl across his skin. Muscle flexed beneath as if it ached to tell its story.
Or maybe it ached to write a new one.
His breath tickled along my neck, blowing strands of my hair around us as he leaned over my shoulder. His hands caressed the back of mine as he carefully set them on the guitar.
My fingertips pressed the strings down onto the fret as Sebastian lightly covered them with his own. A gentle guidance. A quiet encouragement.
Our spirits one.
As if he understood my own ache. As if he were the only person with the capacity to feel the hole left when I’d given up my dreams because I was never willing to pay the price.
Not when the price was my daughter.
But that didn’t mean the need to create, to compose, and to play didn’t burn from within.
And I knew. And I knew. And I knew.