Daring Forever: Vol 2 (The Forever Series): New adult college romance

by TARA GALLINA

  The question is gone the moment his beautiful body covers mine, his arousal pressing into me where I need it most.

  Finally.

  Despite our height difference, we fit in all the right places. He rocks his hips to a sweet rhythm, giving me the friction I need and driving me wild.

  The whole time he kisses my lips, my neck, my breasts, and repeats himself in no particular order.

  My skin pulls tight with my flexing muscles as I match his rhythm with my hips. My core throbs more with a need to be filled.

  He cups my knee from behind and lifts my leg, opening me wider to him. It positions his erection even closer to where I want him.

  "Sebastian." I scrape my nails across his back, so close to the relief I desire, yet so far away. "I need more. Please. More."

  His big warm hand moves up my thigh, stopping at my panty line.

  I suck in a sharp breath.

  "Is this what you want?"

  "Yes," I pant. Nothing has ever been more important.

  His finger dips inside the lace material and brushes my opening. "So hot and wet for me. I don't know if I'll ever get enough."

  A squeal-whimper pushes from my throat, and my nails dig into his shoulders.

  "You want me to touch you here, pretty girl?" he murmurs, his dirty words igniting tiny bombs inside me.

  "Yes. Please." I lift my hips, seeking that deeper connection.

  He teases me, his finger moving up and down, and up and down until finally, he penetrates me.

  I clench around him, as if to draw him in deeper and moan, "More." I grind against his hand, greedy for anything I can get.

  "Ainsley, do you have any idea how amazing you are?" he pants, his skin moist with sweat as he rubs against me. He claims my mouth with a passionate kiss before I can answer and inserts another finger. "So tight."

  I moan and bite down on his bottom lip, ringing a soft chuckle from him. "You're going to ruin me." He sucks on my neck and then does the same to my breast, the whole time thrusting his fingers in and out of me. The rhythm builds, slowly picking up pace. I almost grab his wrist and force him to move faster, deeper.

  Thoughts have left me. I'm all sensations and urgent need. My muscles ache and burn. Sweat slickens my skin. I'm blabbering. "Harder. Faster. Please. More. Sebastian, more."

  Nothing matters except for my desire to come, to explode.

  Sebastian curses and buries his head in the crook of my neck. "Your skin is on fire. So hot. I'm going to cum all over you."

  He adjusts his hand that's between us, and his thumb adds pressure in just the right spot. I buck, squeal, moan. Every muscle in my body contracts, clenching, squeezing, erupting. I'm as tight as a bow and quivering at the same time.

  My mind blanks, stars flash behind my eyelids, and then it's over, leaving me wrecked and as flimsy as Jell-O.

  If the RV were to catch on fire, I wouldn’t move, couldn’t. I'd die here content.

  Chapter 9

  I LIE ON the bed, for who knows how long, my eyes closed, my body at rest. The mattress stirs a few times with Sebastian's weight. At one point, I hear him moving around in the kitchen or the bathroom because water pours from a faucet.

  I should try to open my eyes. I can't stay here forever. The bed dips on one side of me. Soft lips pepper kisses all over my face, down my neck, and along my collarbone.

  "You look so beautiful lying here. I almost don't want to disturb you." He kisses my lips. Brushes his nose with mine. "Time to wake up, sleeping beauty. We still have work to do."

  "Work?" That jump starts me. I tense and open my eyes. "How long have I been sleeping?"

  Sebastian lies propped up on his side, gazing down at me. "Long enough for me to wash and dry my pants. Can't believe I came on the bed," he says as an afterthought and adds, "Can't believe I got some on my pants. That's what I get for keeping them on."

  "You should have woken me up."

  "But then I couldn't have taken a dozen or so pictures of your glorious naked body to admire later."

  "You took pictures?" Oh, God. Kill me now. I slap a hand over my eyes. "Please tell me you're lying." I'll die. Die!

  "I'm lying," he says to my great relief. "I wouldn't do that to you, unless you offered, in which case I'd break out the video camera on my phone because still images would never be enough."

  I shove his shoulder, sending him back a tiny bit. "That will never happen."

  He laughs. "I don't need pictures of you. I have your body memorized in my mind. All I have to do is close my eyes." He does, a smile playing on his lips.

  I shove him again and notice he's dressed. "Your clothes are on?"

  He tugs up the collar of his shirt and sniffs. "And clean. Downy fresh."

  "You really did the laundry?" That means I was out for at least an hour.

  Sebastian bangs on his chest, caveman-style. "Yes. Him can wash clothes."

  I would laugh, but I’m lying here naked, except for my panties, and he's fully clothed. I feel around for the edge of the comforter and pull it over my chest. "Where's my shirt?"

  He tugs the top of the bedding where it covers my breasts. "No point in hiding what I've already seen, and, baby, I've seen it all."

  My cheeks burn. "Not all of it. My underwear is still on."

  A wicked grin curves his lips. "I like having something to look forward to."

  Because we'll be messing around again? Do I want that? Hell, yes. My skin prickles with excitement. I sink lower and pull the covers up to my nose, peeking over the top. "You're turning me into a dirty slut."

  His eyes blink wide. "You're blaming me?"

  "Yes. You touch me and turn me on, and I behave in ways I never have before. It's your fault I'm becoming this way."

  His head goes back with a loud laugh. "You haven't had sex yet, therefore you cannot be a slut. And there is nothing dirty about you. You are the sweetest, sexiest, most incredible female I've ever known. Don't change a single thing about yourself. You’re perfect the way you are. Do you hear me?" He taps my nose, having no idea how much his words affect me and how they're cementing a special place in my heart.

  "You're the perfect one." I free my hand from the covers and brush his eyebrow where his scar slices through the dark hair. "I may not like how you got your scars, but I love them on you. You wear them well." I lean up and kiss it. "I'm sorry you were hurt so many times."

  His eyes close for a moment. "I wish I could see them the way you do."

  I sweep a feather-light finger over the dagger tattoo on his neck. "I need to give this one an extra kiss."

  "Why?"

  "It's not a good place to have a scar. I can't imagine how it got there. But I'm going to do my best to make you forget it." With my finger, I tilt his chin up then lick and kiss the scar.

  He shivers. "Do that again and I'll have to wash my pants a second time."

  I giggle and roll on top of him.

  He puts his arm around me and holds me close to his chest. "I want to tell you how I got the scar," he murmurs so softly I almost miss it.

  Not wanting to spook him, I keep my head tucked under his chin and whisper, "Okay."

  He sighs and runs his fingers across my back in a slow steady rhythm. "When I was nine, I snuck into my father's office and took a switchblade from his knife collection."

  Oh, no.

  "He keeps the case locked but I knew where he hid the key. He was supposed to be out of town. I didn't know he postponed the trip. When he caught me, he decided to teach me a lesson. The art of protection against knives." His tone is blank and distant.

  "He taught me how to block, duck, redirect, but he was smarter, older, faster. I thought I had him. He turned, and I kicked his shin, catching him off guard. He dropped the knife. I grabbed it and spun so I was behind him and touched the blade to his throat. I was maybe half as tall as he was, so my arm was stretched high, my head down by his torso. One of the guys from his detail laughed, and my father didn't like it. He put me in a choke h
old, dragged me in front of him, and stuck the blade to my throat.

  'If you're too weak to fight fair, you better be strong enough to follow through,' he said and pressed the knife deeper into my skin. I told him I had to sneeze, but he didn't believe me. Thought I was bluffing so I could get the upper hand again. I tried to hold it in, but we'd stirred up dust and I had allergies back then. I don't remember the knife cutting through to my throat or any pain, just the feel of warm liquid pouring down my chest and the scent of copper."

  Struck with rage and heartache, I have to remind myself to breathe. Tears burn my eyes for the pain he endured. For his father's arrogance, for the little boy who at nine years old had a knife slice his throat. For the shame it holds for him and the void that takes over in his voice, like he can't attach any emotion to the memory. Because it hurts him too much?

  "Ainsley?" Sebastian rubs his hand over my back. "You're clawing me."

  I am? Focusing, I realize my nails are digging into his chest. I yank back my hand and sit up. "I didn't know. I'm so sorry." I lean down and kiss the tiny grooves left from my nails. "I can't believe I hurt you. I never want that, not from me. Not to you." The tears fall from my eyes. I wipe them away.

  "It's okay." He swipes at another stray tear. "You didn't hurt me. And your nails have done much worse than that before." His lips quirk with a smug grin.

  I laugh, but it's wet and clogged with emotion. "Just let me know if I ever leave a mark or if you get any new boo-boos, so I can kiss them and make them better."

  His features soften with that awed expression. "You already do make it better." He pulls me down onto his chest and tucks a stray hair behind my ear. "And if I ever get another boo-boo, I promise to let you strip for me, press your mouthwatering breasts against my chest, and kiss me all over to make it better." His lips twist with a sexy grin and he glances down to where, as he said, my bare breasts press into his chest.

  At least I made him smile.

  He lifts his head, plants a kiss on my lips, and gives my butt a soft smack. "Get dressed. Now that I'm feeling better, we have work to do."

  Work. I sit up. How could I have forgotten again?

  He winks and points to my clothes folded at the end of the bed. "I'll wait in the other room while you change."

  It doesn't take me long to get dressed. After fixing my messy hair, I join him outside the bedroom. He gives me a quick kiss followed by a long one, and then forces us out the door, claiming if we don’t leave now he'll strip me again.

  In his car, I wait with the engine purring while he talks to the salesman about the RV. The store windows are tinted and too dark for me to see him inside. A few minutes later, he saunters down the steps and climbs behind the wheel of his sporty car.

  "What did they say?" I ask.

  He backs out and heads for the open gate of the dealership. "I can leave it here until I find a place to store it."

  "You're keeping it?" I thought for sure he'd try to return it. I would.

  He shrugs and turns onto Fairbanks, driving in the direction of the body shop. "It might come in handy, and I'm sort of attached to it after what we did in there." He entwines his fingers with mine and rests the back of his hand on my knee.

  My heart flip-flops like a teenager on a date with the school hottie. In reality, I'm a fellow college student and part-time employee with a crush on the ultimate bad boy who has ties to the mafia.

  I should bring that part up, now that hormones are no longer ruling my brain. It's not my fault he's addictive, and kind and sweet, and can do amazing things with his fingers and tongue. When he opened up to me about the abuse from his father, I wanted to kill the man and steal Sebastian away, hiding him someplace safe. I've never felt such rage.

  One of my education classes touched on evidence or suspicion of child abuse and a teacher's responsibility to report it. Why had no one reported Sebastian's father?

  Did he pay them off or were they too afraid to do anything? If so, Sebastian had no one to protect him.

  I lift our clasped hands and kiss the top of his.

  He smiles. "What was that for?"

  "Just because." Has no one ever done nice things for him, just to do them? From what I know and have seen of Marina, she treats him like garbage. His friends seem to watch out for him. What about his mother? Does he have one? He's never mentioned her but then we do more kissing than talking.

  "Is your dad married?" I try for a subtle approach.

  His grip tightens on the fat steering wheel. "He's on wife number four."

  "Four?" Wow. "Is one of them your mom?" So much for subtle.

  "The first was." We pass a Fed-ex delivery truck, the area turning more industrial.

  "Does she live here too?"

  He hesitates. "She died." His expression is relaxed, but I sense the sadness in his tone.

  "I’m so sorry." I give his hand a squeeze.

  "It was a while ago."

  "You were young?"

  "Eleven."

  No wonder he seems so much older than twenty-two. A life like his would mess with you, force you to grow up at an early age. If I didn't already think he was amazing, I sure would now. For all that he's experienced, he should be a walking disaster. A loser, or addict, or in jail.

  "My father killed her," he says, tone deadpan.

  The air freezes in my lungs, and my stomach drops to my feet.

  A tense look falls over his face. "I've never told anyone that before."

  I want him to know he can trust me, that I’m thankful he shared something so private, even if I don't know why he chose me, and that I won't tell a single soul, but it all seems like too much.

  Instead, I keep it simple, repeating the words he said to me the other night when we were in his bedroom. "I'm honored."

  He laughs again, this one short but filled with life. "No why? I'm shocked."

  I stir in the seat, a little ashamed, and bite my lip. "I was thinking it."

  "Of course you were." His genuine smile makes me happy I was able to help in some way.

  We stop at a large intersection. The area is rough, littered with stragglers and trash in the mediums.

  He must notice me peering around, because he says, "This is why I didn't want you to drive."

  I gesture to the black interior of his expensive car. "Aren't you worried something will happen to this? Vandalism? Missing tires?"

  "The body shop has an electric fence and gate."

  "That's not terrifying. Now, I'm really excited to get to work."

  He catches my gaze. "Don't worry, you'll be safe with me."

  "Will I?" It slips out before I can stop it. "I mean, with all I know now about your family, I'm worried about your business. Is it … legal?"

  "For now, it is." The traffic arrow changes to green and we follow a line of cars turning left. "Once I meet all the requirements for my position in the family business, I'll be obligated to turn it over. Then it will either be closed or used for other purposes."

  So many rules. So much pressure. "Sebastian? Why don’t you run and hide out on an island somewhere?"

  "They'd find me."

  I shake my head, refusing to believe he's stuck. He said the movies are similar to real life. "What about Witness Protection?"

  He tsks with a hard laugh. "That's what got my mother killed. She tried to leave with me and my older sister, but my father found out about her plans. He hid us, thinking she wouldn't leave without her kids. She tried anyway, took one of the servant's cars and drove down the long driveway to the gates. We had a house outside the city with a lot of land. The car blew up before the gates opened, not that they would have. My father wouldn’t have let her go. She belonged to the family, to him. He had to show his power and make an example of her betrayal. So he detonated the bomb while there were witnesses." He quiets for a moment and in a soft voice says, "He loved my mother. I believe that. He just loves his power and position more."

  Shock holds me captive as my brain processes the di
sturbing events. His mother died at the hands of his father. The horror, the heartache. He was a child. And now he's going to join this business, even though he doesn't want to.

  My breathing blows hot and fast as frustration builds inside me. It's a struggle to keep my voice calm. "There has to be someone who can help you. A detective or an agency. A bureau. I don't know. But someone has to be out there. Someone who can help."

  "Like the someone who helped my mother? No thanks."

  I sit back, my heart pounding in my chest, as a sad truth sets in. There is no hope for me and Sebastian. The sliver of what could be, as unrealistic as it may have been, diminishes under a deep, dark truth. Sebastian is doomed to a life of misery, with no chance of escape.

  Chapter 10

  WE PULL DOWN a street with abandoned houses, the windows and doors boarded up from the outside.

  As soon as the tall trees in the yards clear, a huge warehouse appears surrounded by a metal fence with barbwire on top.

  "Is that it?" I point at the ordinary looking building. Other than the cement exterior, a few large windows, and five freight garage doors, nothing about it says Auto Body Shop.

  "That's it." Sebastian nods.

  "Why is it in a neighborhood?"

  He lifts his finger and points to where the road curves ahead. "There are more warehouses around the corner."

  My muscles tighten with a flicker of unease. "Where's the sign? Elite Auto Body, open for business?"

  He pulls up to a call box in front of a wide motorized gate. "A sign isn't necessary. Our customers know how to contact us."

  Of course they do. "How is this not illegal?" My teasing tone holds a note of fear.

  He unclasps our hands and rubs my knee. "It's fine. Trust me."

  Easier said than done. Trusting him with my body is a no-brainer. Trusting him with my safety and wellbeing? I haven't worked through that one yet.

  "Elite Auto Body," a male voice says through the intercom, and I relax a little.

  Sebastian hitches a thumb at the call box. "See? It's legit."

  I laugh so hard I spit a little. "You just said 'legit.'"