Making his way over to the railing, he leaned against it.
Reflexes already slowed, he didn’t move fast enough when Marin made another go for the bottle. He managed to get it away, but he also managed to drop it, and the cold liquid splashed all over his bare feet.
Glaring at her, he pointed at the boards of the deck, now soaked with vodka. “You spilled it!”
Her eyes sparked, hard and angry. “You spilled it. Are you trying to drink yourself unconscious?”
“Yes!” Exasperated, he shoved a hand through his hair, almost poking himself in the eye when he misjudged where his hair was in conjunction to his face. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”
Her face softened and Marin took another step toward him.
He couldn’t back away because the railing of the deck was at his back. Also, everything was starting to spin around like a fucking Tilt-A-Whirl.
“That’s not going to make it all better. Everything will still be the same when you wake up. You need to deal with the problems, Seb.”
“I have.” Setting his jaw, he glared past her shoulder and tried to think about something other than the problem: a need for her that had become soul deep.
“You haven’t. You’ve hidden away from it for the past year—”
She stopped speaking.
She’d gone to brush his hair back and he caught her wrist, slanting a gaze at her.
She must have seen something on his face.
Marin swallowed.
Sebastien told himself to let her go and just head inside, lock himself in his room. If he got horizontal, he’d pass out. It would be for the best.
“You think . . .” He closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts. When he looked back at her, she was no longer swimming in and out of focus, although his head sure as hell was. “I was drinking earlier to drown things out, yeah. But this time? I just want to get so wasted I can stop wanting what I can’t have, Marin. If you want to help, maybe you should just leave.”
***
Sebastien Barnes was a rather befuddling drunk.
He swayed between carrying on a perfectly logical explanation to sullen silence, and although he’d stumbled a time or two, for the most part, if it wasn’t for the very clear lack of focus in his eyes, if Marin didn’t know him—and know him well—she might not have realized he was completely plowed.
But he spoke too slowly, thought things through a little too long and moved with too much precision. He was so arrogant that even when he was plastered, he didn’t want to look like an idiot. It was like it was coded into his DNA that he couldn’t be seen looking like a mortal.
Today wasn’t the first time she’d seen him wasted, but it was definitely a little different.
When he finally looked at her and told her to just leave, she’d almost done it.
But something was eating at him and friends didn’t leave friends to face their demons alone.
Instead of listening, she cupped his face. “I’m not leaving you alone like this. You need to talk to me.”
“Talk . . .” He murmured it, turning the word over in his mouth as though he was unfamiliar with it.
He shifted, using his body to nudge hers around until she was the one standing with her back to the railing and Sebastien crowded in closer.
Warning began to sound in her head.
Not that fear sort of warning.
No.
Her head was sending out a different sort of alarm—it was going Oh, shit . . .
Sebastien caught her wrists, tugging them away from his face. She curled her fingers into her palms so that when he guided them to his chest, her hands were balled up into fists.
“You want to know what’s wrong, Marin?” he asked, pressing his face into her hair. “Want to hear all my problems? You’re so determined to help me out . . . is that it?”
“I . . .” She paused, taking a shaking breath, a breath exploded out of her when he pushed his thigh between hers. She thought she’d quiver and just wilt away when he placed one big palm on her hip and tugged her closer to him, tucking her pelvis against his.
Marin’s brain started to melt.
Oh. Shit.
Against her hip, she felt his cock pulsing and in response, everything inside her began to heat and pulse in answer.
“See . . .” Sebastien’s lips were just a breath from her ear, his voice low and gritty and raw. “This is my problem. I’ve wanted only to sink my dick inside you for . . . hell, I can’t even remember when it started, but we’re talking years, sugar. Years. You get close to me and that scent of yours fills my head and it’s all I can do to focus. Now here I am, half-drunk and focus is one thing I don’t have. I can’t focus. I just want to fuck . . . and who do you think it is I’m wanting to . . . focus on?”
He caught her earlobe, tugged.
Marin sucked in a gasp. Without realizing it, she uncurled her fists, flexed her fingers, then tightened them again, now clutching the material of his shirt.