At least she’s talking to me now.
Although to be honest, he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, because Marin knew him like nobody else. She knew him even better than his brothers did these days, but that was probably his own fault. He’d pushed everybody away, save for her.
Marin . . . well.
He hadn’t been able to push Marin out for anything.
The thought that she might be pushing him away left him feeling like the ground was crumbling under him and he hated it.
“There you go . . . brooding again.” She tsked under her breath.
When he scowled at her, she laughed. “Scowl away. It didn’t work a few months ago, it’s not going to work now.” She hopped up on the counter and crossed her legs neatly, hands going to rest on her knees. “What’s the problem, Seb? You’ve been doing better. You’re actually dragging your ass out of bed before noon. You’re not drinking so much—if at all. You socialized at the wedding, and if I’m not mistaken, you’ve actually been shaving. It seems to me that you’re ready to return to the land of the living. Visiting your parents is the next obvious step.”
“You know, these pep talks of yours would be fantastic—if I was still nine years old and getting ready to try out for my first national commercial,” he said sarcastically.
Marin lifted a shoulder. “Seems to me that you’re more nervous about visiting them than you were about that stupid commercial. You ate a bowl of cereal and if I remember correctly, you told me that any idiot could eat cereal—but it took a cute idiot to do it right on TV and you could do it just fine.”
Sebastien snorted. “Well, I was a cute idiot.”
“Sometimes, you still are.” Head tilted to the side, she continued to watch him. “Are you going to chicken out?”
“For fuck’s sake.” He tossed the knife he’d been using for mayonnaise down into the sink and stalked over to her.
That was the first mistake.
The second was bracing his hands next to her hips. Smooth . . . round . . . hips. His fingers wanted to curve around those hips until they dug into her backside, and then he’d pull her in closer . . . and closer . . .
Marin’s eyes widened on his.
“Sebastien.”
“Marin.”
The smell of her went straight to his head, carrying the same impact as if somebody had swung a two-by-four at him. It left him dazed and unsteady and he knew, just knew that if he touched her, kissed her . . . everything all turbulent and crazy would get better—feel steadier.
He knew it.
And yet . . .
Her hands went to his chest.
He could feel each imprint of each finger and he thought maybe, just maybe, if she stroked those hands up and pushed them into his hair, and maybe if she tilted her head back, it would be the signal he needed to kiss her.
And damn, did he want to kiss her.
More than he wanted his next breath.
He wanted a real kiss.
Not a stage kiss, not something done for publicity.
He wanted a kiss that was his—theirs.
Another one—
Another?
That thought settled uneasily in his head as she tipped her head back to stare at him.
“What are you . . .” Marin’s words trailed away as he eased his hand closer, close enough that he could stroke his thumb across her thigh.
A shuddering breath escaped her and her hands inched higher while her head fell back.
The heavy fringe of her lashes swept down and he could see only a thin rim of blue now. When she licked her lips, he knew he was a fucking goner.
Slowly, he lowered his head, still watching her. Watching, waiting, ready for her to pull away.
But she didn’t move.
Not at all.
Even when he slid his tongue across her lower lip.
She tasted like mangos and a fruit he’d never particularly cared for suddenly became one he couldn’t imagine living without. She tasted exactly the way he’d always dreamed she would—
Dumb-ass. You’ve kissed her before. On set, hundreds of times.
Except stage kisses weren’t like real kisses. Not even close. So why did this feel so familiar?
It didn’t make sense, but he didn’t care. Sebastien kissed her again, teasing the entrance of her mouth. When she opened on a sigh, he slid his arm around her lower waist and pulled her in closer.
Her thin top provided little barrier between them but it felt like too much. He would have stripped it away if he wasn’t certain that any wrong move might shatter this insane spell.
As it turned out, it wasn’t movement that caused it.
It was the damn phone.
“I’m going to get rid of it,” he muttered, moving his lips along her jawline, skimming his way up to catch her earlobe. He bit gently as the phone rang a second time.