A Material Gift (D'Arth Series Book 2)

by Camille Oster

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “I forgot my water. Would you be a champion and bring it over?”

  “I suppose I could manage that,” he said, bringing her the glass and placing it by the pillow. Leaning down on the opposite side of the over-sized pillow, he lay facing her. “The meal was delicious. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said. Her eyes sparkled in the darkness and he felt himself relax further. Sam looked beautiful lying there—there was even something a little wild about her. He grinned.

  “What are you smiling for?”

  “You look lovely tonight.” Sam blushed at the compliment, her eyes dropping down at the pillow, then back to him. The material of her dress was wrapped around her belly. Tentatively, he reached forward to touch the taut curve, giving her enough time to object if she wanted to. But she didn’t and he’d had a feeling that she wouldn’t. The warmth of her skin worked up his fingers. “I have to confess something.”

  “Really? What?”

  “I find your belly highly erotic.”

  Sam had a little shocked expression on her face, then laughed. “Do you have a fetish about pregnant women?”

  “I never have before, but I find your belly fascinating,” he smiled, letting his palm roam her across it, feeling its smooth curving planes. He wasn’t lying; he did find it highly erotic and touching was only aggravating his response. He should stop, but he couldn’t make himself. “I think it has something to do with that fact that I know it’s my child. I don’t find other women’s bellies particularly attractive, but yours... ” he drifted off with a sigh. Her eyes were on him, listening intently. “I think there is some Neanderthal gene in me, because you bring out a panting, salivating creature in me. And if you’re barefoot and in the kitchen—”

  He dodged a hit from her and laughed. He’d said it as a joke, but there was the tiniest grain of truth in what he’d just said. Seeking her eyes, he realised that he was in familiar territory, seducing a not overly reluctant girl. He’d been in this position so many times before; well, not with a pregnant woman, but with a girl, waiting to be seduced. His instincts honed in on it, almost automatically.

  She parted her lips slightly and he knew instinctively that she was ready to be kissed. Leaning forward, he kissed her gently, the merest of touches. She reached into the kiss as well. He had her. Moving closer, he placed their bodies closer together, not touching, but close—tempting. They kissed more deeply and Sebastian felt a frantic edge to his own attraction, which wasn’t usual—perhaps because he’d grappled with this attraction for a while, refusing to acknowledge it at first. He never usually held back on attraction; always ready to explore when he came across it—pleasure, freely given and returned.

  He felt her belly push into his front, his body tightening powerfully, eagerly seeking more. He didn’t normally feel this sense of urgency, but was unable to hold himself back. She was responding as well, taking and matching his ardour.

  His hand travelled down to her thigh, pulling it up along his, his breath so heavily, he was at risk of passing out if he kept it up. He was also rock hard—harder than he’d been in a long time. Feeling pressure from her, he let her push him back onto the pillow as she moved over him, straddling him. His hands were on her hips as she ground her hips into him. Groaning, he reached up to kiss her again, accounting for her large belly—a deep kiss driven by nothing but intense need and urgency. He wanted to see her naked, wanted to run his hands all over her body—feel her heavy breasts and her belly. He wanted to be inside her, desperately—spend himself deep inside her.

  He pulled the strap of her dress down, straining to kiss her lovely shoulder, the taste of her skin lingering on his tongue, suffusing through his mind. Her belly was in the way, but he couldn’t really regret that. They had to get on with it or he wouldn’t even get there, the rate they were going.

  Absently, he noted the clear alarm signal in the back of his mind, growing stronger. Wincing, he tried to ignore it, choosing to deeply kiss her instead, letting his tongue play with hers, but the alarm wouldn’t go away. This was the mother of his child; he couldn’t fuck this up. This is what he did with women he had no plans of seeing again, or more than a week anyway. He couldn’t afford to operate that way with this girl; he had to deal with her for the things that were to come, and bringing sex into it would just make things much more difficult, if not impossible. The stakes were too high to mess with this for some throwaway attraction. It might be a profound attraction, but it was still just an attraction—just like the hundreds of other girls.

  Freezing, he stopped kissing her, pulling back slightly as she reached for him. “I can’t,” he said.

  “What?”

  “We can’t do this,” he said with deep regret and dismay. “I want to, but we can’t.” Urging her off him, he got up from the pillow as fast as he could move. She looked confused and delicious as he looked back down on her—her lips swollen and her eyes looking hurt and glossy. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It was my fault. I didn’t mean to... ” he drifted off. She looked so completely tempting; he was going to relent and give in unless he put some distance between them. Drawing a deep breath, he turned and walked back into the house, moving on to his room, where he was intent on an ice cold shower, cursing himself as he went.

  Chapter 21

  Sam touched her swollen lips and got up from where she was sitting. She’d just made out with Sebastian and he’d rejected her. She desperately reached through her recollection to see how she had gotten it so wrong. She couldn’t sit still, she felt so agitated. She also felt hurt. He sleeps with everyone, she thought—well, not everyone and she wasn’t some gorgeous starlet. Maybe she just wasn’t up to scratch. How had she let that happen?

  Slowly, shaking her head in dismay, she decided to clear the plates. Rinsing them, she put them in the dishwasher and turned it on. What had she been thinking? She did not make out with people like Sebastian Luc; she cleaned up after people like him. Closing and locking the big sliding patio door, she retreated into her room, walking past his firmly closed door.

  He’d said he found her attractive, and when they were kissing, they were really kissing—but he’d come to his senses. At least he had some. No, this was all a consequence of her not getting any of late, she determined; she was susceptible to doing stupid things. And now she’d done something completely idiotic, which she was going to feel extremely embarrassed about in the morning. In fact, she was blushing with embarrassment already. She hadn’t felt this stupid since high school.

  *

  It took her a few moments when she woke to remember the previous evening, making her wince when she did. She desperately didn’t want him to be there when she got up. Checking the driveway out the window, she saw that his car was gone—unless he’d put it in the garage.

  Tentatively, she opened the door to listen, but couldn’t hear anything. Sighing with relief, she wandered out into an empty lounge. This was going to be unbearable, she thought, trying to imagine how awkward it was going to be when he came home. Sam sat down heavily in a stool by the kitchen island and put her head in her hands. She was an idiot. And he hadn’t helped. He’d practically led her on, telling her how attracted he was to her. How could she be stupid enough to listen?

  *

  The day dragged on very slowly, until early evening, when Sam heard Sebastian’s car pull into the driveway. Getting up as quickly as she could, she hurried into her room, knowing it was cowardly. She just needed a few moments to practise the speech she’d spent the day working on.

  “Sam,” she heard him call as soon as he got in the door.

  Sam clenched her fists and cursed. “Coming,” she called, sounding overly cheery. Ugh. She didn’t want to do this, but while she had moments of pure cowardice, when it came down to it, she faced her demons, even the gorgeous ones.

  She strode out into the lounge like there was nothing wrong. He was back to wearing a suit, whic
h was good. She didn’t find him nearly as attractive in a suit—provided she didn’t look too hard.

  “About last night,” he started.

  “How about we never talk about it?” she offered. It wasn’t what she’d been planning to say, or even close to it.

  He watched her, making her feel even more uncomfortable. “I just wanted to say that although I find you very attractive, we’re in a difficult situation and it would be a good idea not to complicate things. I hope you understand.”

  “Got it,” she said, wondering if she could leave now.

  “I just don’t want any awkwardness between us.”

  “Yes, but then we were awkward to start with.” She wasn’t sure she believed him when he said he thought she was attractive; she was so far off what he usually went for, but she appreciated the sentiment, even if he was lying through his teeth.

  Then there was an awkward moment that stretched. “How about I order pizza?” he said. “Unless you have plans.”

  “I’m a whale; what plans would I have?”

  “You’re not a whale,” he said and pulled out his phone, dialling a number and speaking quickly in French.

  “How many languages do you speak?”

  “French, English, German and Italian.”

  “A bit of a linguist?”

  “No, I just live here; you just have to deal with a lot of languages. I guess we’ll just wait until it arrives.” Sam wondered if she should retreat back to her room, but that might come across as childish. They’d had an issue; they’d dealt with it, and she didn’t really want to think about it anymore. “I might watch the news.”

  Sam nodded and moved toward the kitchen while he sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. She cleaned an imaginary spot just to busy her hands, then sat down and watched the news, just because it was the only thing to do.

  It didn’t take long before there was a knock on the door and the pizza was there, in a white, un-labelled box. It wasn’t a typical pizza either—clearly cooked in a proper oven, covered with chunks of mozzarella and basil. “Where did you get this from? Italy?”

  “You know we’re not that far away from Italy. But no, there is a nice restaurant that do good pizzas.”

  “Do you get all your takeaway food from Michelin Star restaurants?”

  “Yes.”

  Sam couldn’t help but laugh. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of a greasy takeaway meal?”

  “Just because it’s delivered to your house doesn’t mean it has to be less than superb quality.”

  Sam shook her head, looking down on the pizza which had no slices cut into it. Sebastian pulled out a knife and cut it in half. It was too thin to eat holding a slice anyway. She had to get cutlery. It came with a salad that Sebastian dished out onto two plates.

  It was absolutely divine, cheesy mozzarella goodness, with plenty of salty parmesan. It may be the best pizza she’d ever had. Well, it was in another category, but she wasn’t ready to concede that normal kinds of pizzas, like your typical ham and pineapple didn’t have its place, too.

  She felt better once she’d eaten. A crisis had passed and she was glad.

  “I am going to have a scotch, do you want something?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  The news had finished and they were watching some current affair talking about youth in Japan. Sebastian walked over to the bar area and poured himself a drink.

  “Darling, I’m home,” came a sweet, cultured voice from the door. “I’m so sorry.”

  Sam froze and her eyes widened as she heard the clicking of heels on the marble floor, her mouth falling open as Shanna stood in the middle of the space, looking gorgeous in a slim, white pencil skirt and a ruffled, sleeveless top—everything disturbingly expensive, down to the white heels with little metal tips on them.

  “Shanna?” Sebastian said, turning to her, holding a glass and the crystal decanter in his hands. “What are you doing here?”

  “Darling,” Shanna said, then put on a pout. “I’ve come back. I’ve realised that I made a mistake.”

  Sam still sat with her mouth open as Shanna smiled brilliantly at Sebastian, before Shanna moved her attention away from him and stopped on Sam sitting on the couch. Her smile faded, turning her beautiful features suspicious. “What is she doing here?” Shanna demanded.

  Sebastian didn’t answer for a while. “She’s living here.”

  Shanna turned her furious gaze on him. “She’s living here,” she repeated slowly. “Why have you got her living here?” Shanna stepped closer. “Are you fucking her? She’s the hired help,” Shanna said with distaste.

  “She needed somewhere to go.”

  “Then she can go somewhere else.”

  Sam watched the exchange, feeling completely out of place. She didn’t know how this would go. But really, the nerve of the woman. How Sebastian reacted now would cement what she thought of him.

  “She’s carrying my child.”

  “Our child, darling.”

  “No, my child. You made your feelings clear when you walked out of here.”

  “I had a panic,” Shanna said with a dismissive shrug. Shanna threw Sam a vicious look, communicating quite clearly that her presence wasn’t appreciated. Sam reacted with a start; she shouldn’t be there—witnessing their private argument. Although she was glad that Sebastian wasn’t completely folding. Blurry thoughts raced through her mind, trying to grapple with the implications of what was happening. Sam stood.

  “No, stay where you are,” Sebastian said. It came across like an order, which, if circumstances were different, Sam might have taken exception to, but now she meekly sat down again. She shouldn’t be watching this. Shanna turned her offended look to Sebastian again, then she softened.

  “Come Sebastian, there is nothing done that can’t be undone. I am ready now. I had a panic.”

  “You don’t get to have panics, not with a child involved. You made your bed.”

  “You cannot be serious, Sebastian.”

  “You should go.”

  Shanna’s eyes widened, then she turned slowly, giving him a look of pure contempt, before throwing a disgusted glance at Sam. “You’ll regret this,” she said before marching away and slamming the door hard.

  Sam had been holding her breath throughout the exchange. Sebastian looked furious, but he put the decanter down and took his scotch in one big swig. “Bitch,” he muttered.

  Again Sam felt awkward, like she was intruding. But Sebastian walked past her, out onto the patio, leaving the house very quiet. Sam tried to think through what had just happened, and what was best for the baby. Obviously a family would be better, but then there was the shallowness and inconsistency of Shanna. But maybe Sebastian was better off with her; he seemed to have liked her enough to want to start a family with her—maybe Shanna was just normal for people in his set—what did she know?

  “Are you sure you want to let her go?” Sam asked as she stepped out onto the patio. Sebastian didn’t answer; he just sat in a chair facing out over the view. “If you really care about her—“

  “Would you forgive her?”

  “Hell no,” Sam said, then thought better of it. “I mean if it was someone I love, then maybe it would be worth working on it.” It sounded weak even to her own ears.

  “She walked out on a child without even a backwards glance.” Okay, that was bad. There really wasn’t a way to put that in a good light. “I thought she had more in her than that, but I was wrong. I don’t think I can forgive her.” Sam listened awkwardly. “I loved her. My relationship completely failed. I thought if I just tried, everything would be fine, and I did, but it still failed. I don’t fail, but I couldn’t make this work. I thought it did, but when it really came down to it, she flaked. I was going to marry her.”

  “Relationships are hard.”

  “I really didn’t see it coming. I believed every lie she told me.”

  “You don’t think she’s sincere?”

  He snorted.
“Actually, I think she is—for now. Tomorrow, it will be a different story. Just a hint of a threat to her career and she jettisoned both me and the baby. And what would she do next time? How could I trust her with my child?”

  Sam sighed. And what of your career? she wanted to ask. This baby threatened his career, too. But it wasn’t the time to bring it up. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s I who should apologise. I should have seen this coming before I ever let this happen. This is all my fault.” He sounded so disappointed in himself.

  Sam placed her hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. “It isn’t that you see these things coming, because you don’t. It’s all about how you deal with them when it happens.”

  “Are you the philosopher now?”

  She slapped him on the shoulder. “I am trying to be nice to you.”

  He smiled. “You really are quite a sweet person.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s not what you called me a few weeks ago.” He smiled again, confirming that he’d privately referred to her in other terms.

  Sebastian turned his gaze back toward the town in front of them, the silence returning and Sam felt drained from the whole awful day. Amazingly, she felt that she and Sebastian were okay. Nothing else was, but at least that was something. Stifling a yawn, she got up. “I’m going to turn in.”

  Sebastian nodded. “I will hold the fort.”

  Sam walked back to her room hoping that was a throwaway comment as opposed to him actually guarding her against his mental ex-girlfriend. Oh yeay; just what she needed.

  Chapter 22

  Sebastian had been summoned. Mrs Muir had come into the office, telling him that his mother was on the phone. Groaning, he’d dropped his pen on the desk, while Mrs Muir gave him a pointed look to ensure he accepted the call. The brief discussion concluded with a request for him to come see her at home; she’d wanted a word with him. He knew an order from his mother when he heard one—and she didn’t take no for an answer. There would be months of passive-aggressive behaviour from her. He also needed to deal with her, because having two sets of lawyers on his side was getting overly complicated, and he wanted her to back off.