Ruined (Barnes Brothers #4)

“That’s not the point.” Heat rushed to her cheeks as she remembered those seconds where she’d seen him fisting his cock, pumping up and down.

His pupils dilated and for a second, she thought he’d make a move toward her, but all he did was close his eyes, then shake his head. When he looked back at her, that heat was gone and there was a tight, curious blankness to his face.

It pissed her off.

It pissed her off enough that she left the robe hanging open as she slid past him, swaying just a little too close. Her left breast brushed against his arm and while she’d been prepared for the contact, it still sent a jolt through her.

Sebastien hadn’t been prepared.

His body stiffened. She glanced up at him. “Excuse me.”

Nostrils flared, he stared at her. The harsh rise of color in his cheeks, the way his pupils grew so large and intense, the black all but swallowing the blue-green of his irises.

Raw, sexual hunger arced between them. It was palpable. If the very air around them had caught on fire, she wouldn’t have been surprised. She suspected if she leaned in and kissed him, he’d have her pressed to the wall at her back in five seconds. He’d be inside her within fifteen.

And nothing would be solved.

Still, she couldn’t resist the urge to torment him, just a little. Marin slid her tongue across her lower lip as she held his eyes. An odd noise emanated from him and she had to hold back a smile as she turned away and moved back into the living room. She got herself some water from the pitcher in the fridge and when she looked back, Sebastien was as far away as he could be without being in the bedroom she’d just left.

“Just what do you need to tell me?”

Marin sipped her water and studied him over the rim of her glass. “Are you going to hide back there or come out here so we can discuss this like adults?” Resting one hand against the counter, she lowered the glass and gave him a challenging stare.

He held her gaze for one taut moment before his eyes slid down, lingering on the way the silvery-blue silk cupped her breasts, then farther, where more of the silvery blue swathed her hips. The lingerie was beautiful, almost demure, a touch-me-not kind of sexy, which of course was designed to make men think of touching.

She had a feeling that Sebastien was thinking of doing a lot more than touching as he prowled closer. Eyes roaming over her, he stopped just close enough to touch and Marin knew her heart skipped a few beats when he reached out.

All he did was grasp the tie of her robe and belt it shut. “If you want me to carry on a rational conversation, maybe you shouldn’t tempt me, Marin.”

She could have pointed out that she wanted to do a lot more than tempt him, but now so wasn’t the time.

Instead, she just arched a brow. “Well, we have discussed the fact that we’ve seen each other . . .” She slid her eyes down, then back up. “Naked.”

A muscle pulsed in his jaw.

Before he could back away, she lifted a hand and touched his cheek. “You are probably going to be mad at me.”

“I’m already mad.” His mouth twisted. “I get the feeling you’re trying to drive me crazy and it’s not much of a stretch at this point.”

Marin didn’t share his sardonic smile, though.

It was time.

“When was the last time you had a drink, Sebastien?”

The change in subject threw him. She could tell.

“What’s that got to do with anything? I’m—” As she pressed her finger to his lips, he stopped speaking.

The feel of his mouth against her skin had her nipples tightening inside the silk of the bra and only the padded cups kept him from seeing. “Answer the question.”

He caught her wrist first, tugging it down. But he didn’t let go. His eyes held hers and Marin felt goose bumps rise in the wake as he dragged a finger up, then down the inside of her wrist. “It’s been a couple of months. That son of a bitch Smith—it was his birthday and I didn’t know. I’d logged in online and was looking around, thinking about . . . I dunno, taking a trip. Seeing my folks, but I didn’t want to stay at their place. Not yet. I wasn’t ready. And I didn’t know it was his birthday. It seemed half the damn internet was lit up with pieces on that bastard Smith. Me . . .” His voice had gone rough.

Marin reached for him with her free hand. “Monica.”

His eyes came to hers and he just nodded.

“Why were you torturing yourself like that?”

“Because I’m a dumb-ass,” he said flatly. “I saw one article and I just couldn’t stop myself. So I clicked. And then I grabbed a bottle and I clicked more. Drank more. Clicked . . . drank . . .”

“I know.”

His eyes moved to hers. “You . . . you came by. I’d thought so. There was food. Right?”

“Yes. And you ended up pouring out almost everything. I’d . . .” Marin bit her lip, guilt washing over her. “Sebastien, I came by to tell you about the script. I hadn’t been online much, either, or I would have been over there well before you even surfaced. By the time I got there, you were already wasted.”

Shiloh Walker's books