The Reluctant Heiress_A Novella

by L. M. Halloran

  Michael nods. “The kitchen and deck. The head of the firm, Matthew, is designing the rest of the house. Want to get some air?”

  His swift redirection takes me by surprise, until I see his gaze flicker over my head. I glance back to find Alex, Thea, and Sebastian staring at us.

  “Yes,” I say immediately, and follow Michael onto the back deck.

  “That was… unsettling,” he says, laughing softly. “I take it your brother is protective?”

  I laugh. “No, actually. Those looks were to warn you off me.”

  His eyes widen and he takes a quick step back. “Are you an ax murderer?”

  I laugh, but before I can reply, a dark voice says, “No, she just tears through men like tissue paper. And you, my friend, have caught her eye.”

  I whirl on Sebastian. “What the hell!” I hiss.

  Michael glances between us. “I’ll, um, leave you two alone.” He slips inside before I can stop him. Not that I have any idea what I might have said. Wait, don’t you want to be torn through?

  Sebastian glowers down at me. “You’re out of control, Candace.”

  I’m so fucking mad I can’t even talk. All I can do is glare at him and sputter. Sensing conflict, the occupants of the patio scoot inside.

  I’m two seconds from flinging my wine in his face when he laughs. Laughs. And says, “Do you know that when you’re mad, the golden flecks in your eyes lighten? Like little daggers that might shoot out at me any moment.”

  He catches my hand before I can throw the wine. Red liquid sloshes over our wrists. I gasp, having not been aware of my own intention.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  The sunset gleams in his dark eyes, giving him a sinister aspect. “Don’t even think about it,” he whispers.

  My anger fades, sucked down the drain of bafflement. “What on earth has gotten into you?” I ask, scanning his face. And me, for that matter?

  His grip softens on my wrist. A thumb brushes over my pulse, making it spike. “It’s my turn, Candace. I’m sick of waiting.”

  “Huh? Waiting for what?”

  “To be inside you again.”

  A volcano of lust erupts in my body, weakening my knees. My heart thunders in my throat. His eyes are so dark I can see myself in them. Small and pale.

  A wave of fear grips me. Sebastian isn’t tissue paper—he’s a brick wall.

  “No,” I rasp, then clear my throat roughly. “Sebastian. We can’t. Alex… and that’s in the past. Where is this coming from?”

  I’m babbling but can’t control it. He’s staring at me like he wants to lick me from top to bottom. Or, knowing him, from bottom to top.

  “Let me take you on a date,” he says softly. “A real date.”

  I freeze, lightheaded with shock. From him, the simple request is a slap to the face. No—a sucker punch.

  Eight years ago, naked and replete with me in a hotel bed, he’d said the same thing.

  I’m moving out here next year, Candy. Will you wait for me? I’ll take you on a date. A real date. I’ll buy you flowers, dinner, whatever you want. Just promise me you’ll wait.

  Tearful at the prospect of saying goodbye, I’d eagerly promised to wait for him. And I had. Even when, after a month, he stopped returning my phone calls. I waited seven long months, until Alex casually mentioned Sebastian’s new girlfriend.

  “You’re a son of a bitch, you know that?” I ask him now.

  I see the moment he realizes what he said—his eyes shift away from mine, expression pinching. I pull my hand from his and turn toward the balcony. Taking a long swallow of wine, I stare at the spectacular sunset. Orange. Magenta. Red and gold. There’s nothing quite like sunsets in Southern California.

  “Candace—”

  “Leave me alone,” I grind out. “We don’t need to air this dirty laundry. Ever. Just let it rest.”

  His heavy sigh flutters the hair on my nape. I idly consider chopping it shorter than its current shoulder-length. Maybe a smooth shave. At least then I’d never have to feel his breath in my hair.

  I listen for his departure. His shoe creaks on the deck. I melt with relief, then stiffen as his hands come down on the railing to either side of me. I’m encased, enveloped by his heat and scent. Vulnerable and small. Defenseless.

  His head drops beside mine, lips in line with my ear. “I’m not giving up,” he whispers.

  A step forward brings his body against mine. Hard against soft. I feel him, thick and virile through his pants, and can’t stop the small noise that squeaks from my throat. Only one man has ever been able to strip me of all power.

  Then I remember that I’m not the same, stupid girl I was at twenty. And Sebastian needs to learn what happens when you play with fire.

  I arch my back a little, providing friction that makes his breath catch. “Is this what you want, Bast?”

  “Yes. No. I want to take you on a date.”

  “No dates, Sebastian. Let’s not fool ourselves. There’s only one thing we’re good at. Besides fighting, that is.”

  “Candace—”

  “You know where I live,” I cut him off. “I’ll leave the front door unlocked. Bring condoms. I ran out yesterday.”

  He makes a strangled sound between a laugh and a groan. “Vicious woman,” he whispers.

  You made me this way.

  “Take it or leave it.”

  Alex’s confused voice shatters the moment. “What’s going on out here?”

  Sebastian steps back as I turn with a smile for my brother. “Just admiring the sunset.”

  He frowns, clearly unconvinced. “Well, get your asses inside. Dinner’s ready.” With a final, searing glance, he disappears into the house.

  I take a sip of wine and watch a muscle tick in Sebastian’s jaw. He’s irritated and aroused, a thrilling combination.

  We definitely aren’t children anymore.

  “So?” I question lightly.

  “If we weren’t standing on your brother’s deck, I’d bend you over right here.”

  Glad to be leaning on the railing, I merely lift a brow. “Is that a yes?”

  His eyes scan my face, burning a path to my mouth. “God help me, yes.” He glances at his watch and takes a step toward me. His body vibrates with suppressed need, so much that I quiver. “One o'clock. I want you naked in bed, wet and ready for me. The first round is going to be hard and fast.”

  He spins on his heel and stalks into the house.

  “Holy shit,” I whisper, squeezing my thighs to relieve the sudden pulsing between them.

  What did I just do?

  6

  The rest of the party is a test in endurance. Sebastian doesn’t speak to me again, but his eyes follow me as I mingle. Undress me. Possess me. I forget names as soon as I learn them, laugh at jokes I don’t hear, and give a toast that brings tears to Thea’s eyes.

  Inside, I’m a hot mess.

  At just after ten, I tell Alex I have a headache and am going to head home. He offers me a guest room for the night, which I decline. As my first glass of wine was also my last, he thankfully doesn’t press the issue. I hug him and Thea, and the three of us make a date for lunch in L.A. next weekend. All while Sebastian watches me from across the room, dark eyes smoldering.

  It’s a miracle I don’t get a speeding ticket driving home.

  The garage door is still closing when I unlock the front door and run for the shower. I wash fast, shaving my legs and accidentally nicking myself on the ankle. Bleeding and panting, I dash out of the shower and into the closet for lingerie.

  “This isn’t what I meant when I said naked and wet.”

  I yelp and jump, knocking into hangers and losing my balance. The stage is set for a slow-motion mortification scene. The director yells Action! My arms pinwheel and I sprawl on my ass on the closet floor.

  I stare up at a laughing Sebastian.

  “Need a hand?”

  I scramble to my feet. Not until I rub my sore backside do I realize I�
�m stark naked. With few options and no towel in reach, I finally settle on crossing my arms over my chest.

  Sebastian’s grin falters and dies. “You’re bleeding,” he says curtly. I look down at the blood dripping from my ankle onto the floorboards.

  “It’s noth—” I gasp as he lunges toward me and sweeps me into his arms, then strides to the bathroom counter and sets me down. I wince at the contact between cold marble and highly sensitive bits.

  “Sebastian, it’s nothing. Just a little cut. They bleed a lot. You know, gravity.” Ignoring me, he runs water in the sink and sticks my foot under the faucet.

  “Do you have any Band-Aids?” he asks, already rummaging through my medicine cabinet. “Never mind, found them.”

  With gentle hands, he tends to the minuscule cut, dabbing it dry and applying a thick Band-Aid. Not once does his gaze veer to my naked self. By the time he’s done playing nurse, I’m annoyed.

  I swing my feet to the ground, almost kicking him in the face. “Sebastian,” I snap. “Quit dissembling.”

  He straightens, eyes narrowing. “Dissembling? You think I’m faking caring about you bleeding all over the floor?”

  I move into his personal space, my nipples grazing the leather of his jacket. They harden to tight points; he notices and goes still. Sucking in his unique fragrance, I palm his crotch and look up through my lashes.

  “What I think is that we’re wasting time.”

  His eyes flash, the only warning I have before he bends, grabs the backs of my thighs, and yanks me from the floor. My legs instinctively wrap around him. Large hands cup my ass and grind me against the fly of his jeans. I moan unabashedly at the heat of him straining against the denim.

  “My little spinner,” he breathes, eyes on where our bodies connect.

  I point behind him. “Bedroom’s that way.”

  “I don’t care,” he growls, and then his mouth is on mine.

  There’s no soft seduction necessary for us, just heat and teeth and tongues. The passage of years hasn’t dimmed the chemistry between us. The opposite, in fact. He tastes the same and different. Darker. Better. I yank at his jacket, wanting to find out what else about him has changed.

  “Are you still a screamer, my sweet Candy?” he growls into my mouth.

  I don’t bother replying—the question’s rhetorical, anyway. He hikes me up higher, breaking the seal of our kiss to fasten his mouth on a nipple. My head falls back, my throat opening on a savage moan. White noise crowds my ears as my heart pumps furiously; I undulate against him like the wanton I am.

  “Why are you still wearing clothes?” I whine, and redouble my efforts to get him out of his jacket. But it’s an impossible task with me wrapped around him.

  His teeth close hard around my nipple, bringing another cry from me. God, he remembers. I’m pretty sure the front of his pants is now soaking wet.

  “Sebastian,” I moan, and almost sob in relief as he walks fast from the bathroom.

  He throws me onto the bed, the force making me bounce. I watch him tear off his motorcycle jacket and whip his light sweater over his head. He’s not wearing an undershirt. I feast on the sight of all his glorious, naturally bronzed skin. Broad, muscled shoulders, chiseled abs, and a delicious downward trail of black hair.

  At twenty-four, Sebastian Bellizzi was lithe and sleek. At thirty-two, he’s a fucking god. His pupils are so blown it’s like staring into an abyss. An abyss I want to jump into.

  “Touch yourself, Candace.”

  I’m whimpering even before my fingers dip between my legs. I find a nipple with my other hand and pinch it hard. A current of heat shoots straight to my core.

  “Fucking hell, look at you,” he rasps.

  My eyes are closed as I give myself to sensation. Dimly, I hear his shoes coming off, followed by his jeans. When a foil rips, I open my eyes to watch him roll a condom down his considerable length. It’s why I asked him to bring the condoms—we both know he’s in a unique category.

  “If you have a problem with being fucked hard, tell me now.”

  The savage lust on his face is a teeny bit scary. I whip my head back and forth. “No complaints here.”

  He’s on his knees and across the bed between one breath and the next. I’m boneless, yanked up by my arms, but there’s no guessing. No awkwardness. My body knows on a cellular level exactly what he wants; his body knows what I want. Him sitting on his heels, me wrapped around him—it’s my favorite position. The friction is incredible. He remembers.

  My hands sink into his hair, my legs coiling around him. One of his arms locks hard around my back as his other hand angles my lower body. The head of him, thick and blunt, probes me. Yes. So close. I rock my hips restlessly, torturing myself with the barest penetration.

  “Last chance,” he breathes.

  “Tease,” I snarl.

  Two thrusts and he’s inside me to the hilt. Holy shit. Molten heat runs from my core through my limbs, tingling in my fingers and toes. I throw my head back and hang on because he wasn’t kidding—he’s not holding back, the hand on my hip effortlessly pumping my body in time with his fast, hard thrusts.

  Deep, electric pulses zing through me, building in power and frequency. Sebastian’s teeth sink into my neck. I scream in rapture as the sensation catapults me toward the glimmering edge. He bites me again, then licks the buzzing skin.

  “I can feel you getting tighter. God, so sweet. That’s it. You’re right there…” His voice fades on a guttural groan as I come apart, jerking and clenching around him.

  I chant his name. Or scream it. I’m not really sure. I can’t see straight, much less hear.

  He drops forward, pinning me beneath him. One hand cupping my head, he angles my face for his kiss. Deep and sweeping, he tastes every crevasse of my mouth as his hips roll slowly, leisurely. He’s still hard as a rock, feeling like velvet with the slightest burn of sandpaper. This is what I’ve been looking for all these years. Him.

  The realization isn’t a welcome one. It’s too sobering, forcing me to confront how perfectly and naturally my body responds to his. How rare my orgasms normally are. I wrench my mouth away from his, and it’s like fighting against a rip current.

  “Bast,” I gasp, digging my fingers into his sides. I wiggle my hips. “Hard and fast, remember?”

  He pushes the hair off my face, long fingers running across my cheekbones, my brow. A thumb angles into my mouth, hooking lightly onto my lower teeth. His eyes are drowning dark, burning. He never stops the slow roll of his hips.

  “I changed my mind. I want you to come again.”

  “I’m good, really,” I pant. “Just, uh, feel free to…”

  He grins, a slash of white teeth in the semi-darkness. “Oh, I will. But not yet.”

  Lifting my left leg, he passes it between our bodies and effortlessly spins me around and up to all fours. All while staying firmly inside me.

  He growls approval. “Mmm. Missed that.”

  A hand flattens on my stomach and slides to where our bodies join. Knowing fingers find my tight bundle of nerves. And I instantly quicken, my blood fluttering readily to his call. Traitorous body. Applying perfect pressure, he draws back and slams into me. And does it again. And again.

  I shout his name, and keep shouting it until my voice is hoarse. Until I shatter, and sob, and he whispers, “So sweet.”

  He spins me again, back beneath him. Hands on my shins, he pushes my legs up until my knees press into my shoulders. I gasp at the angle, the feeling of being so totally possessed. Sebastian is the only man who’s ever done this—frankly, he pretty much ruined me for anyone else.

  He groans in a certain way that tells me he’s near his own jumping-off point. The tempo of his thrusts increase, become slightly erratic. His arms snake beneath my back, holding me open for him, trapped and close. So close. His nose nuzzles mine. A bead of sweat drips from his forehead and slides across my cheek.

  “Candace,” he whispers.

  I shake my h
ead helplessly. “Kiss me.”

  He does, feeding from my mouth like he’s starving. I offer him everything I can—everything I’m willing to give. He grows even harder, larger. I wait… Yes. He whispers my name over and over as he throbs inside me.

  7

  Cool ocean air tickles my flushed face. The sky above is clear and dark, with only the barest hint of the coming dawn. A few pale stars wink on the horizon and in the distance, placid waves murmur happily as they reach the shore.

  Sebastian is asleep in the bedroom behind me—sprawled like a contented jungle cat, one arm flung over his head. When I could no longer stomach watching him sleep, I pulled on a robe and came out to the deck.

  After we came down from our post-coital high, I’d not-so-subtly encouraged him to leave. He’d merely laughed, spread my legs, and gone down on me until my feeble protests turned to eager pleas. Even sweeter than I remember. My Candy.

  With my brain reset by a third mind-blowing orgasm, I’d returned the favor—and been immediately reminded of how incredibly hot I get having him in my mouth. Finally, with a hoarse shout, he’d grabbed me, rolled me beneath him, and rode me to his own release.

  The breeze off the ocean picks up. Goose bumps lift on my bare legs, cooling the heat in my blood.

  I shiver and hug my arms to my chest, feeling an odd mix of lassitude and anxiety. I never want to see him again. I never want him to leave. The latter impulse has the flavor of old desire and need. I remind myself that we’re not the same people anymore.

  I am not the same girl who almost fell in love with her brother’s best friend. Who came to crave his touch like an addict. Because that’s exactly what Sebastian is—my addiction. And despite careful maintenance, it’s never totally faded. I’ve relapsed before, in fact. Only once in the eight years since our week together, but it was a doozy.

  Summoned, the memory comes, as clear and cutting as if it happened yesterday.

  I was in Los Angeles when my mother died. Although we all knew her cancer was at a critical state, my father convinced me to finish out my final semester. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have listened. I’ll always regret not being there at the end.