Chapter 39

[ 1,047 words ]

Emilia’s POV

His mouth crushed onto mine, ruthless and demanding. My mind went blank as his tongue invaded.

I froze. This was… this was actually happening.

My hands clutched the sheets helplessly as Sebastian’s weight pinned me down. His kisses grew more aggressive, more desperate, like a starving beast finally allowed to feast.

Heat exploded through my body. An unfamiliar, overwhelming surge of desire that made my toes curl and my breath catch. What the hell was this? I’d never felt anything like it before.

Is this what happens when you kiss someone you’re attracted to?

His hand slid under my T-shirt and I gasped against his mouth. His palm was scorching hot against my bare skin, fingers tracing up my ribs with maddening slowness.

I should stop this. I should push him away. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

But God, it felt so good.

My initial shock melted into something darker, something needy. The sensation of his hands on my skin sent electricity racing through every nerve ending. His lips moved from my mouth to my jaw, trailing fire down to my collarbone.

I couldn’t think straight. My body was responding on pure instinct, arching into his touch, craving more contact.

We’re married, Mila keeps asking about grandchildren. This is… normal. Expected. We’re supposed to do this.

And honestly? Sebastian wasn’t just decent-looking. The man was gorgeous. And beneath his perfectly tailored suits, his body was sculpted. Hard planes of muscle, broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist. I could feel the definition of his abs pressing against me through his dress shirt.

My hands, which had been frozen at my sides, slowly moved to his back. His muscles tensed beneath my touch.

Screw it.

I kissed him back.

Sebastian made a low sound in his throat and his movements became more urgent. His hand cupped my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple, and I bit back a moan.

Then I felt it. The unmistakable hardness pressing against my thigh. Substantial. Impressive.

Heat flooded my face. My hands moved from his back to his chest, fingers working at the buttons of his shirt. I wanted to feel his skin against mine. I wanted…

Sebastian went rigid.

His lips stilled on my collarbone. His entire body locked up like someone had flipped a switch.

I froze, confused. “Sebastian?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he buried his face in the curve of my neck, breathing hard but not moving, not continuing what we’d started.

What the hell?

The mood shattered like glass. Cold realization washed over me, dousing the fire in my veins.

Did he just… did he just realize who he’s kissing?

“You do know who I am, don’t you?”

Sebastian’s entire body went even more rigid. If that was possible.

“Because if you’ve got me confused with someone else,” I continued, “now would be the time to stop.”

“I know exactly who you are,” he growled against my neck.

“Then say it.” I swallowed hard. “Say my name.”

“Emilia Taylor.” His mouth moved against my skin, low and certain.

“Then what…” I swallowed hard. “Did you… did you actually fall for me or something?”

The question was both absurd and terrifying. I didn’t know which answer I was waiting for, hoping for.

Sebastian lifted his head. His green eyes were wild. Desire, embarrassment, frustration, and something else I couldn’t name, all swirling together in their depths. His pupils were blown wide, his lips swollen from our kissing.

He looked like he wanted to devour me and run away at the same time.

For one breathless moment, I thought he might answer. Might explain whatever the hell was happening between us.

Instead, he pushed himself off the bed in one fluid motion.

“Sebastian…”

“Stay here,” he bit out, already striding toward the bathroom. “Don’t move. Don’t you dare move an inch before I come out.”

The bathroom door slammed shut.

I lay there, stunned, staring at the ceiling. My body was still buzzing with unsatisfied desire, my lips tingling, my skin burning where he’d touched me.

What just happened?

One minute he’d been all over me, hands and mouth claiming me like I was his last meal. The next, he’d shut down completely and fled.

The sound of running water echoed from the bathroom. A cold shower, probably.

I pulled the sheets up to my chin, suddenly feeling exposed and ridiculous. My borrowed T-shirt was rucked up around my ribs, my hair a tangled mess on his pillow.

Thirty agonizing minutes crawled by.

When Sebastian finally emerged, he was wearing a white bathrobe, his dark hair damp and slicked back. Water droplets clung to his neck, disappearing beneath the collar.

He looked composed. Controlled. Like he hadn’t just been two seconds away from ripping my clothes off.

“I didn’t mean to cross the line,” I said quickly, sitting up and tugging the T-shirt down. “It’s just that the weather’s getting warmer, and my room is too stuffy, so I thought…”

“Did I ask you to explain?”

His tone was sharp enough to cut. I snapped my mouth shut.

Sebastian’s eyes raked over me. Still in his bed, still wearing his shirt. Something flashed across his face too quickly to read.

“Come back earlier tomorrow night,” he said flatly. “We’re going out to dinner.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Are you deaf?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Tomorrow. Dinner. You and me.”

“Must it be tomorrow night?” The words came out before I could stop them.

Sebastian’s eyebrow arched. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

My dinner with Scott. I’d promised him. After everything he’d done for Chuck, I couldn’t just stand him up.

But if I refused Sebastian…

I glanced at the Alpha standing over me, radiating cold authority in his bathrobe. This man didn’t take rejection well. If I said no, tonight would get a whole lot worse.

“Why don’t you say something?” His voice dropped to a lethal quiet. “Is it really that inconvenient?”

Think, Emilia. Think.

Why was he asking me to dinner anyway? We’d barely spoken two civil words to each other in days. And why specifically tomorrow night, the one night I actually had plans?

“It’s… a little inconvenient,” I said carefully. “I already made plans with a friend tomorrow night.”

“Which friend?” He interrogated.

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