“I either need to be inside you or unconscious and I know there’s really only one option. You made yourself clear enough last year.”
He pulled away, but not before he raked his teeth down her neck.
A hard shudder racked Marin all the way down to her toes.
It didn’t go unnoticed by Sebastien, either. His eyes gleamed, but all he did was put a few more feet between them. “I think I could have you now. You want me,” he said. “But you don’t like it. What’s really shitty is that you’re here because you feel sorry for me. I don’t need that, Marin. So just . . . leave. Please.”
He turned his back on her.
She should have done as he asked. Left. Come back later.
But he was wrong. At least partially.
“I don’t like it.”
Sebastien kept walking.
“But you’re wrong. I’m not here because I feel sorry for you. I’m here because you’re my friend and you need somebody.”
“Yeah.” He grunted the word out, like he’d expected her to say nothing less.
“If the situation was reversed and I was the one needing somebody, would you be there?”
That made him stop.
His hands went to his hips, a stance that drew the shirt tight across his shoulders—well, tighter. He’d bulked up over the past year and the faded cotton was already straining. As he tipped his head back and stared up at the cloudless blue sky, Marin moved to cut him off.
His bleary eyes met hers.
“I don’t like wanting you.”
“So you’ve said.” He sounded harsh and his eyes looked wounded.
“You . . . Sebastien, you complicate everything. Way too much.” She could have told him more, but now wasn’t the time. “But if you think I’m here because I feel sorry for you, then you’re making me out to be much nicer than I really am. If I feel pity for somebody, I might drop by every now and then, or send a check or flowers or candy, but I don’t . . .”
The words froze in her throat, because she wasn’t sure she wanted to give him that much. It was a huge piece of herself and suddenly, she was afraid to reveal it. Forcing a smile, she said, “I’m not going to invest the kind of time I do with you just out of pity. What we have is friendship. Not pity.”
An awkward silence stretched out.
After a moment, he gave a terse nod. “Fine. So we’re friends.”
He went to go around her.
She laid a hand on his arm, feeling like something between them was still rough and raw—damaged.
He froze.
Just back away, Marin . . .
Looking into his blue-green eyes, Marin felt her heart start to race. There was a wicked, wild heat in his gaze, the kind that she’d never felt in her entire life. And it was directed at her.
He dipped his head, pressed his lips to her ear. “You need to back away, Marin. The things I want from you are a lot more involved than friendship. My control is shit today. If you keep . . .” His mouth grazed hers.
She tasted whiskey and him.
The taste went straight to her head and she wondered if maybe she was the drunk one. Her control was suddenly more than a little shaky. Lifting her free hand, she placed it against his chest. “If I keep what, Sebastien?”
He groaned and leaned into her.
His weight had her stumbling back and he followed until she was pressed against the wall of the house, his weight securely pinning her in place.
The heat of him was shocking, the heavy width of his chest flattening her breasts.
“Tell me to stop, Marin,” he said in warning. “Or . . .”
This time, he pressed his lips to her neck.
She let her head fall to the side, eyes closed. This was stupid.
It was so stupid.
But as he skimmed his hands down her sides, she reached for his biceps and clung. Hard muscle bunched under her fingers. He moved between her thighs more fully and through her skirt, she felt more of him and her head started to spin.
“Tell me . . .”
She reached up and shoved her fingers into his hair, tugging his head back.
His gaze focused on her face. “Do you see me?” she demanded.
“All the fucking time.” He bit her lower lip, then stroked the small hurt with his tongue.
She almost collapsed into a whimpering puddle of want, but forced herself to keep her eyes on his face, searching for . . . something. He was steady on his feet. He was looking straight at her.
When he kissed her, Marin felt her toes start to curl and she decided she was done trying to think.
Her hands slid under his shirt.
***
Sebastien had been waiting for them to press against his chest and shove him away, but instead, she curled her fingers in the hair she found and tugged.
He nipped her lower lip again, briefly wondered if he’d fallen asleep somewhere between the deck and his bedroom and was now dreaming.
Maybe.
Just maybe.