by Elise Faber
TWELVE
SEBASTIAN
* * *
HE’D BEEN LOOKING FORWARD to later all day and now later seemed like it wouldn’t be coming.
Sighing, Sebastian pulled out his cell and called Rachel.
She answered after three rings. “Hey, you.” Her voice was soft and made what he was about to tell her all the more painful. “How’s it going?”
“I’m knee-deep in a crisis.”
“Oh.” She sighed. “I’m guessing that means we won’t be meeting up?”
Sebastian dropped into his desk chair, head pounding, feet aching from running all over the city. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Rachel said, her voice taking on a stern quality. “Shit happens. I’m disappointed is all.” Her tone softened. “I was thinking about you all day.”
He liked the sound of that. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Heels clicked across the floor and he heard a snick.
“Did you just close the door?”
A giggle. God that sound. He loved making her laugh.
“So, what if I did?”
His phone chimed and he glanced down at the screen. Rachel was FaceTiming him?
He accepted the call.
Her beautiful face appeared on his cell. She was smiling and her eyes held no small amount of mischievousness. “Hi,” she said and waved.
His lips twitched. “Hi.”
Brows pulling down and together, she said, almost accusing, “You look exhausted.”
Sebastian rubbed his temple. “I am exhausted, honestly. We had a deal blow up today and the details of the offer shared with competitors.” He sighed. “Then the media. Of course, it was skewed to make Steele look bad, like we were the ones to torpedo the contract when really the other party was the one to pull the plug.”
Her lips pressed flat. “Was this for the tech center for the city?”
Shock pulsed through him. “How do you know about that?”
“RoboTech considered making an offer, but we have our hands full with other charitable projects.”
“That’s right. The joint venture with McGregor Enterprises. Last I heard, you guys had proceeded to some field testing?”
She nodded. “Now’s my turn to ask how you found out about that.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “I guess our bosses are sharing more than just pillow talk.”
“Apparently,” he said with a chuckle. Two minutes talking with Rachel, and his head had stopped pounding.
“So, I’m guessing that Steele made a good deal. Why did the city back out?”
“We got tired of the red tape. They wanted us to complete another environmental review—and we’ve done two already. Then additional seismic calculations and—” He blew out a breath. “Well, it just got to be too much. So, we said they either went with our initial offers and previous reports or we would walk.”
Rachel wrinkled her nose. “So, they went to the media.”
“That’s the game.”
Her heels clicked back across the floor and he saw her computer was still on as she rounded her desk. “I’m not the only one burning the midnight oil,” he said. “Why are you still at work?”
She grinned. “I was waiting for someone to call. Or text.”
His stomach twisted. “Shit, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I—”
“I’m joking.” White teeth nibbled the corner of her mouth. “But I do have something that might make you feel better.”
One brow rose. “What’s that?”
She lifted her hand to her collar, her fingers flicking one button open.
“Uh . . .”
Another button came loose, then another until Sebastian could see the slightest hint of black lace.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “That was what you were wearing earlier?”
A trail of fingers across her chest. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper and she licked her lips. “This is what I wear every day.”
He went hard. Just like that, his feet no longer hurt, his head didn’t throb. The only thing that was aching was his cock, desperate to be back inside her. “Baby,” he groaned. “You’re killing me.”
“In the best way, I hope.” Her hand crept lower, slipping under the lace, pulling it down enough to flash him a hint of one dusky nipple.
“Why are we both still in our offices again?”
She chuckled. “I have no idea,” she said and slowly extracted her fingers. He wanted to groan but didn’t know whether in disappointment or relief.
Disappointment. Definitely disappointment.
Rachel nodded. “What I am going to do is finish up my work here then go pick up takeout. Then I’m going to text you my address and the code for my apartment.” She glanced down at her watch. “I figure that gives you about two hours to get the crisis under control before heading to my place.”
This woman undid him. He liked her so much and wanted to tell her exactly that, but what was between them was so fresh and new that it was too soon for any kind of declaration. And so he floundered, struggling to find something funny to say, something that would illustrate her importance without making her run away screaming.
And it couldn’t be another line for their horrible poem.
He frowned.
“Or not,” Rachel said. “Bas, if you think—”
“No, that’s not it at all,” he hurried to say. “It’s just . . . you’re too good for me, sweetheart.”
She snorted. “You do remember my past, right?”
If she’d been in front of him in that moment, he would have been half-tempted to take her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. Obviously, he couldn’t do that, either in person or through the phone, but he still wanted to find a way to make her understand that she was perfect and incredible, beautiful and kind—
He wanted her to be his.
But she also needed to become hers first.
“Too. Good,” he said again. “I’m just the little brother who works as an assistant when my siblings are a professional hockey player—retired now—and an obscenely smart engineer. Like insanely smart. As in Kelsey filed for her first patent at thirteen.”
Rachel smiled. “That sounds like . . . a lot?”
He nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I’m the abnormal one because I’m average in smarts and drastically limited in athletic ability.”
“I can think of one particularly not average thing you’ve got going for you.”
He waggled his brows. “Yeah? Typing a hundred words a minute is an impressive skill, I know.”
“I’m wet just thinking about it.”
He choked.
“So, see you in two hours?”
Bas nodded mutely.
“Good. If you’re on time, I promise you’ll get to see the rest of my underwear.”
He slumped back in his chair after she’d clicked off, mind spinning all sorts of dangerous and unproductive fantasies of Rachel’s underwear.
That woman was going to be the death of him.
Unfortunately, he didn’t know at the time how accurate that particular thought would be.
THIRTEEN
RACHEL
* * *
RACHEL JUGGLED the bag of Italian food—extra garlic bread, for the win—along with a bottle of wine and her briefcase as she keyed in the code to her apartment. It unlocked with a click, and she nudged it open with a combination of one knee and her elbow.
Then almost dropped the bottle of wine.
“Super graceful as always,” she muttered, closing and locking the door behind her.
Her phone rang just as she was setting the food on the counter.
Thinking it was Bas, she answered without looking at the number.
“Hey, you,” she said.
“You’ve been a bad girl.”
The blood in her veins froze solid at the sound of Preston’s voice. “I believe there’s a restraining order in place that makes it illegal for you to call me.” Thank God her voice was st
eady, that Bec had warned her this might happen and had coached her on what to say. “I’m hanging up and calling the police.”
He snorted. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Do yourself a favor and lose my number, Preston. We’re done.”
“We are not—”
Rachel pressed the end button.
Her heart pounded and jumped as her phone immediately began ringing again. “Fuck.” She jabbed at the ignore button, immediately clicking over to her contacts and pressing Bec’s number.
“Twice in one day, my little not-virgin,” Bec said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I—” Her cell clicked in her ear, signaling Preston trying her for the third time.
In a heartbeat, Bec’s tone went from teasing to serious. “What’s wrong?”
“He—” Rachel sucked in a breath, forced herself to release it slowly. “Preston called me. He’s still calling me.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“No. I didn’t give him a chance. Just told him he wasn’t supposed to call me and that I was contacting the police.”
“Good. Good.” She snapped out an order to someone in the background. “I’m going to call my contact at the PD, then I’m coming over.”
“No. I’m okay,” Rachel said. “It just shook me, I guess, to hear his voice after so long.”
“You shouldn’t be alone.”
Rachel’s gaze went to the bag of takeout on her counter, the bottle of red wine. “Sebastian’s coming over.”
A pause.
Then, “Good on you, Rach.”
“Is this an incredibly stupid idea?”
“Trusting a man?” Bec asked. “Or trusting this man?”
Considering the only man she’d trusted before was currently blowing up her phone after having spent close to five years systematically destroying every good part of her.
She had finally got her shit together, finally started to feel like an actual person.
And Preston.
And Sebastian.
“Either. Both.”
Bec hesitated again then said, “Trust is a tricky thing, yeah? I’ve only met the man a handful of times, and my gut says that Sebastian is one of the good ones. But, Rach, the more important question is what does your gut say?”
Rachel sighed and studied her toes. “My gut says that, too.”
“That’s enough for now, don’t you think?”
She chuckled. “Is that your patented Darden mic drop?”
“No,” Bec said. “It’s already hard enough to maintain my copyright on the death stare.”
“Oh, Bec,” Rachel groaned. “What the hell am I going to do?”
Her friend released a puff of air that rattled through her cell. “You’re going to let me handle this. Block the number Preston is phoning from, but don’t delete any messages or calls. And definitely don’t pick up any numbers you don’t recognize.” A beat, amusement slipping into Bec’s tone. “And enjoy your wild night of hanky-panky with Sebastian.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“Oh, you will. You. Will.”
Rachel smiled despite herself. “Was that supposed to be the mic drop?”
“I’m just getting started—”
“Well, I’m hanging up now.”
“Have hot sex—”
Rachel clicked off, somehow smiling despite her past cropping back up, despite Preston’s calls still buzzing in her ear.
She really did have the best of friends.
SEBASTIAN KNOCKED BEFORE PUSHING open Rachel’s door just over thirty minutes later.
He took one second to survey her apartment—a small one-bedroom because real estate prices were insane in San Francisco—then focused his gaze on her.
“What’s wrong?”
She pulled out the plates of takeout she’d been warming in the oven and shrugged. “I’m fine.”
Bas was by her side in a second, taking the plates and setting them onto the counter. “Bullshit. What happened?”
Rachel sighed. “Preston called. Has been calling pretty much nonstop for the last half an hour.”
“Did he threaten you?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t let it get that far.”
“What should we do?” he asked when her phone lit up with another missed call. “Contact the police?”
“Bec’s doing that for me.”
“Darden?”
She nodded.
“Well, I don’t think you could have a better lawyer.”
“I agree. And we have a restraining order, so there’s not much else I can do at this point.”
Sebastian took the bottle of wine when she extended it toward him, along with the opener. “So, serious question now. This”—he gestured between them—“is new and . . . a lot, I guess. Is it too much? Do you want me to go?”
“First of all, that’s two questions.”
He cupped her cheek and her throat went tight. She sniffed.
“Second, fuck, Bas. You can’t say things like that.”
“For the record, I like it when you say my name.”
Her lips curved. “I know you do.” She stepped closer, resting her palm over his heart. “Also, would you—I mean, could you stay for a little while?”
He kissed her forehead. “I can stay however long you need me.”
Rachel had the feeling that could possibly be forever.
FOURTEEN
SEBASTIAN
* * *
HE HELD Rachel as she slept and it was pretty much the best thing ever. It definitely wasn’t the end to the night he’d been expecting.
Sex.
He’d been expecting lots and lots of hot, sweaty sex.
Three months’ worth of fantasizing, of making up for having to leave her that night . . . and he’d ended up just holding her as she slept.
But fuck if he could find the strength to care. Bas wouldn’t have made love to her, even if she’d asked. No way would he force something or risk their future being tainted by her fucking asshole of an ex.
So, they’d eaten takeout and watched two documentaries and stayed up way too late, considering it was a Monday and they still had the rest of the work week to get through.
Around midnight he’d made motions to leave, not wanting to keep her up when she needed rest, but Rachel had said, “Stay.”
He didn’t have one single iota of strength to deny her anything.
They’d gone into her bedroom and she’d slipped into the bathroom, emerging in a pair of silky pajamas that did nothing to hide her gorgeous body beneath. He’d stripped down to his boxer briefs, borrowed a toothbrush to clean his teeth, and then had slid into bed next to her.
It was domestic. It should have felt awkward considering how short of a time they’d truly known each other.
It hadn’t.
Instead, getting ready for bed, cuddling up next to her under the covers, smelling the fruity tones of her shampoo as she’d nuzzled into his neck . . . all of it had felt exactly right.
She’d fallen asleep a few moments later and Sebastian had been left thinking about everything that had happened over the last few days.
His phone buzzed and he glanced over at the screen, saw it was a text from Kelsey.
Carefully, he slipped an arm free and picked up his cell.
Coming to town. Thursday. 6 pm. Dinner with Devon and Mom and Dad.
Great, he thought and planned on scheduling a meeting during just that time. His family meant well, but God were they hard to take in large doses.
Devon would be his usual self, garnering an audience of adoring fans as his wife, Becca, teased him about it. Kelsey would have a brand-new project that would change the world.
And he’d just managed to squeeze out two extra days for Clay and Heather’s honeymoon.
Streamers would fly, balloons would drop from the ceiling, so great would be his accolades.
Another buzz.
You’re coming. Even if I h
ave to drag you out of your office myself.
He sighed.
I have plans already.
As predicted her response was:
Cancel them. This is important.
Mentally, he weighed his options. Would she actually come to his office and make a scene?
Yes.
Absolutely, she would. And revel in every second of it.
Sighing, he texted back.
See you Thursday.
Her reply came half a second later.
Damn right you will.
With that auspicious ending, Sebastian set down his phone and closed his eyes. But with Rachel next to him, he found that despite the need burning through him, despite Kelsey’s decree, and even despite Rachel’s past refusing to stay in the fucking past, where it belonged, he was able to close his eyes and fall headlong into sleep.
HE WOKE to sunshine blinding him and Rachel’s ass pressing against his cock.
Okay, he had been wrong the previous evening, waking with Rachel cuddled up to him, her warm, sleep lax body in his arms, that was the best thing ever.
She rolled over, her hand dropping to his chest then lower.
Well, that was definitely the direction he wanted her fingers to travel, though after the events of the previous evening this probably wasn’t the best time.
He snagged her hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss her palm. “Wake up, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Before I forget that I’m trying to be good.”
“Mmm.” Rachel rocked against him and—shit, why was he trying to be good again?
Sebastian closed his eyes. Because it was the right thing to do.
Fuck.
He brushed back her hair, pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Rachel, baby. It’s time to get up.”
She sighed and, after a long moment, opened her eyes.
“There you are,” he said softly.
A smile teased her lips. “You stayed.”
He shrugged. “You asked.”
“I don’t want to get up.” Her nose wrinkled.
