by Force, Marie
Dear God, the man can kiss.
And his tongue game isn’t too shabby either. Just thinking about it has my nipples tingling and my clit throbbing in ways they haven’t tingled or throbbed in years, even with Rafe. I shift, looking for a more comfortable position, and bump up against a long, hard ridge of flesh.
He lets out a grunt in the second before his eyes open, his gaze colliding with mine in the bright light of day. “What’re you doing in bed with me?”
“Um, I think you’re in bed with me.”
His hand moves from my waist down to cup my ass, bringing me in tight against his throbbing length.
He’s fucking huge. I’ve known that for a while now, but until I was up close and personal with all ten inches of him, I didn’t fully appreciate the magnificence.
“Tell me we aren’t making the biggest mistake of our lives, Marlowe.”
I nuzzle my face into the curve of his neck and breathe in the masculine scent of him—deodorant and soap and laundry detergent. “We’ve both made bigger mistakes than this.”
“I have. I doubt you have.”
“You’re not the only one who’s done things they regret, Seb.”
“I’m sure your regrets have nothing on mine.”
“Don’t be so sure.” It’s all I can do to contain the urge to rub out a quick orgasm.
As if he’s a mind reader, he tightens his hold on my ass and pushes that big cock against my pussy, hitting all the right spots and lighting me up like a Christmas tree. “Tell me if anything hurts,” he says gruffly.
“Nothing hurts, but there’s an ache…”
“Where?”
“Right… There.”
Never let it be said that the man can’t take direction. He turns onto his back, bringing me with him, handling me carefully so as not to jar any of the places where I’m hurt. Looking up at me with those dark eyes that’re now heated with desire, he says, “Take what you want, sweet girl.”
With my hands flat against his chest, I push myself up and spread my legs.
His hands on my hips guide me as I begin to move, never breaking the intense eye contact.
What should be awkward, isn’t. It’s sublime. He plays my body like a maestro, moving beneath me with the exact rhythm I need to get where I want to go. I forget that this is Sebastian, my longtime friend. It’s as if I’m looking at someone completely new, someone I just met for the first time.
“Good?” he asks in that same sexy, gruff tone.
“So good.”
“Give in and let it happen.”
I’m not used to taking. I’m far more accustomed to giving. Naturally, he gets that because he’s wired like me.
“Let it all go, sweet girl. I’ll catch you when you fall.”
Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back and clear my mind of anything that isn’t about the pleasure that ripples through me. I’ve had every kind of sex a person can have, and nothing has ever left me as breathless as dry humping Sebastian does.
He anchors my hips and picks up the pace, pressing into me hard and then retreating, over and over again until I’m out of my mind with the need to come. When he releases my hips and cups my breasts, squeezing my nipples between his fingers, I come hard, writhing on top of him as I ride the wave of pleasure until it passes. Then I collapse on top of him.
His arms come around me, above and below the wounds on my back. Between my legs, his hard cock is a reminder that only one of us achieved satisfaction. I would do something about that, but I can’t seem to move after that epic orgasm.
“You’re still…”
“I’m fine.”
“But…”
“Shhhh. Close your eyes and breathe.” He runs his fingers through my hair and caresses my lower back, lulling me deeper into bone-deep relaxation. I actually doze off for a while, awaking to my cell phone ringing.
Sebastian reaches for it and hands it to me.
I take the call from a number I don’t recognize.
“Marlowe.”
Oh God, it’s Rafe.
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Wait… Listen. There’re things you don’t know about me, and the other night… it was triggering for me.”
Was it only a few days ago that his French accent could make me shiver? Now it turns my stomach. “I don’t care, Rafe. What you did is unforgivable. Don’t call me again.”
“You didn’t have to get my boss involved. I got fired because of you.”
“That’s the least of what you deserve.” My hands are shaking, and my stomach hurts. “And you didn’t get fired because of me. It was because of you.”
“Can’t we talk about this?”
“Are you for real? No, we can’t talk about you beating and whipping me and leaving me strung up and bleeding for hours.”
Sebastian takes the phone from me. “Do not call her again.”
“Who the hell is this?”
“Your worst nightmare. Call her again, and you’ll find out exactly who I am.” He ends the call, shuts off the phone and tosses it aside. “Take it easy, sweetheart. Breathe.”
I’m shaking so hard that breathing is all I can do.
“Deep breath in. Hold it.” He holds me close, his lips brushing against my face. “Now let it out. That’s it. Nice and slow. Do it again.”
I focus only on breathing and the sound of his voice guiding me through it.
“You never have to see him again. We’ll get you a new phone number so you don’t have to hear from him either.”
“I’ve had that number for fifteen years.”
“So what? You give the new number to the people who need it and go on with your life. We’ll get Leah to take care of that for you today.”
He’s right. I know it, but I resent having to change my number to get rid of Rafe. However, if it means never having to hear his voice again, I can live with that. “Okay.” Suddenly, I realize I’ve been using him as a mattress while I slipped into a post-orgasmic coma. “I should, um, let you up.”
His arms tighten around me. “I’m in no rush.”
“I didn’t mean to use you and conk out like that.”
His low rumble of laughter makes me smile. “Use me any time you’d like.”
“How long has it been this way for you?” I ask the question before I take even a second to think about whether I should.
“How long have we known each other?”
Twelve years. I raise my head off his chest so I can see his face and those eyes that look at me with such affection and desire. “How did I not know?”
“I made very sure that you’d never know, that no one would.”
“Why?”
“Come on, Marlowe. You’re you, and I’m…”
I narrow my eyes and give him my best sinister look. “Please don’t say something that’s going to piss me off.”
“I’m not trying to piss you off, but it never occurred to me that you might feel the same way or that I’d ever have a shot with you.”
Another thought occurs to me, making me gasp from the sheer madness of it. “Is this why you don’t get involved with anyone beyond casual hookups and scenes at the club?”
His jaw shifts and his face flushes with… Is he blushing?
“Are you blushing?”
“Fuck no. I don’t blush.”
“I think maybe you do.” I start to laugh, which earns me a scowl from him.
“If you’re gonna laugh at me, you can get your ass off me.”
“I don’t wanna.” I plant my elbows on his chest to hold my chin up as I contemplate him keeping such a big secret from me and everyone for twelve freaking years.
“Your elbows digging into my chest feel so good.”
“Don’t be a baby.” I’m emboldened by the knowledge that he has feelings for me, and not just the sexual kind. “Talk to me about this crush you’ve had on me for all this time.”
“I won’t talk to you about that, so drop it.”
> I laugh again. “Like that’s going to happen. The genie’s out of the bottle, my friend. There’s no putting that bitch back in when she gets a taste of freedom, so you may as well admit defeat.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed.”
“I’m not adorable or embarrassed. Those things are for pussies, which I’m most definitely not.”
I lick my lips and watch his gaze track the movement of my tongue. “No, you’re definitely not a pussy, but you are adorable.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up and tell me what the fuck you were thinking keeping this a secret for twelve freaking years.”
“I would rather not do that.”
“I’m not moving until you tell me.”
“I could move you if I wanted to.”
“But you won’t, because you’d be afraid of hurting me and you’d never do that.”
His eyes glitter with amusement and affection that he’s no longer trying to keep hidden. Now that I know, it’s as obvious as the nose on his gorgeous face. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”
“I know I’m smart, so start talking if you ever want to leave this bed today.”
His hands slide down to squeeze my ass. “Not leaving this bed today is hardly a threat.”
“My next move is to tell you to keep your hands—and every other part of you—to yourself until you tell me what I want to know.”
He squeezes my ass again. “Make me.”
I flatten my hands on his chest and look into his eyes. “Please tell me why you kept this to yourself for so long.”
His eyes close, and he takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “It’s going to make you mad.”
“I still want to know.”
After another long pause, he finally opens his eyes and gives me the truth. “I’m not good enough for you, sweet girl. You need someone who’s your equal, not a former thug who’s now a club manager only because his best childhood friend threw him a bone.”
He’s right. I’m pissed. I push myself up and out of his embrace, wincing when my bruised ribs and wounded back protest the sudden movement.
“Where’re you going?”
“I think I should go home.”
“You asked me to tell you, I told you it would be better if I didn’t, and now that I did, you want to leave? How is that fair?”
I turn to him, furious. “You want to talk about fair after you kept something like this from me for twelve years?”
“When would’ve been a good time to tell you? When you were dating Leo maybe, or how about when you were with Sam? Or how about Devyn or Rafe? Would any of those times have been the right time to tell you that I wanted you?”
“Thanks for reminding me of all the losers I’ve dated. That’s helpful.”
“I’m merely reminding you that you haven’t exactly been available for this information for twelve years. And for much of that time, the info wouldn’t have been welcome, and you know it.”
I can’t deny that’s true, so I don’t try to. But there is one thing I can deny. “I can’t bear to hear you say you aren’t good enough for me. You don’t get to decide that. I’d take one of you over ten of any of those other guys you named. Leo—an award-winning producer who’s also a malignant narcissist. Sam, a multimillionaire businessman who’s also a drug addict. Devyn, an award-winning actor, is actually gay, not that there’s anything wrong with that, unless you’re looking for a man who likes women. And we both know what Rafe is in addition to being a high-ranking executive at a film company.”
“A former high-ranking executive.”
I wave my hand in acknowledgment. “The point is, on paper, all of them were ‘good enough’ for me, and yet none of them were good for me. So, yes, I’m pissed that you kept this from me and denied me the chance to be with someone who might actually be good for me!” It’s not my style to yell, but I’m so bloody furious with him for the things he said about himself and for all the time we’ve wasted. If only he’d been honest with me. If only we’d been honest with each other.
“How come you never said anything to me?” he asks.
“About what?”
“About how you’ve thought of me as more than a friend.”
“It never occurred to me that you’d care.”
He sits up and then stands, hands on hips. “What? Are you insane? I would’ve loved to know that.” Crossing his arms, he stares me down. “The way I see it, we’re both guilty of keeping secrets.”
When he puts it that way, it’s hard to stay pissed with him for not telling me how he felt. “I’ll give you that, but I’m still pissed that you’d ever think you’re not good enough for me. That’s utter bullshit, and you know what makes me really mad about that?”
He tips his head and raises a brow. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
“I thought we were friends.”
“We are friends. Of course we are.”
“Then you should know how much I hate people acting like I’m something special just because I’ve had a successful career. That’s my job. It’s not me, and after all the time we’ve spent together, I’d expect you to know that.”
“I do know that.”
“If you think I’m better than you, you don’t know shit about me.”
Before he can respond to me, his phone chimes with a text and then rings with a call. He glances at the phone on the bedside table. “It’s Leah. Okay to take it?”
“Sure.”
I take the opportunity to go to the bathroom and brush my teeth. The water drowns out the conversation Seb is having with Leah, but I don’t care what they’re talking about. I’m still processing the conversation I just had with him. What will happen now that we’ve both put our cards on the table and acted on the attraction we now admit has been simmering between us—albeit on the far back burner—for years?
It’s surreal to think that Sebastian—my good friend and colleague—has had feelings for me all this time and I had no idea. I feel stupid that something like that could’ve been happening right in front of me and I missed it, even as I nursed my own secret thoughts about what it might be like with him.
He comes to the bathroom door, his brow furrowed. “Someone tipped off the media that you were involved in an altercation. They’re camped out at your place and the office.”
“Son of a bitch. Rafe is the only one who would’ve done that.”
“The question is why would he do it?”
“Because he’s pissed that we went to Pierre, and he’s looking to exact revenge.”
“He’s lucky you didn’t go to the cops.”
“He knew I wouldn’t want the publicity of having him charged, and he left the country just in case he was wrong about that, knowing it would take forever to have him extradited. He knows how much I hate being the subject of celebrity gossip, so he went for the jugular.” And now he’s made it so I can’t go home, even if I wanted to, which I don’t, knowing Sebastian has feelings for me—and that he can make me come like he did earlier. Sign me up for more of that.
“Listen, Mo…” His expression is tortured. “I’m glad we got a chance to talk before, but…”
I hold my breath, waiting to hear what he will say.
“I think it would be better if we didn’t, you know…”
“Fuck?”
He inhales through his nose. “Yeah.”
“Ever or just right now?”
Grasping the doorframe, he can’t seem to look at me. “Ever.”
“Why?”
“I, ah, I just think it could turn out to be really complicated, and that might not be the best idea, you know, because of work and our friends. And everything.”
Oh, this is funny. He confesses to having feelings for me, to wanting me, kisses me like he’s been starving until he had the chance to gorge on me, and now he’s having buyer’s remorse? Isn’t that rich? “Sure.” I speak with nonchalance I don’t fe
el. “If that’s what you want. I can go stay with Hayden and Addie. I’ll call her to come get me.”
“No.” He says the single word emphatically. “You can’t leave. If they don’t find you at your place, they know where else to look for you. They have no way of knowing to look here. It’s the best place for you to be for now. Leah said the others talked about it, and they agree you should stay here.”
“I don’t want to stay here.” I give him my fiercest look. “I’m pissed at you.”
“Because I was honest with you about this not being a good idea for either of us?”
“Because you showed me what you really want and then you took it back like a coward.”
His entire demeanor turns stormy, but I’m not the slightest bit afraid of him. This is not at all what it felt like when Rafe turned on me. With Rafe, I experienced bone-deep fear.
“I’m not a coward.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that.” I push him aside as I leave the bathroom and go find my phone in the bedroom. I power it up and send a text to Leah. I need you to grab a few things from my house and bring them here without being followed. Can you do that?
Yep. Send me a list of what you need.
I sit on the bed, smiling to myself as I type out the list without an ounce of embarrassment about what I’m asking my assistant to do. I pay her a small fortune to do whatever I need, and at times like this, she earns it.
He thinks this isn’t going to happen? We’ll see about that.
Chapter 10
I’m fucking furious that she called me a coward. That’s what I get for trying to do the right thing for her, for me and for the rest of our friends, all of whom would be involved if shit went sideways between Marlowe and me. And how could it not? What will happen when the media that pursue her relentlessly find out that she’s with a guy who used to be a gangbanger? They’d have a fucking field day with that and would tear apart both our lives looking for dirt—and they would find it in my past. I blame my confessions on the incredible high of holding Mo and watching her fall apart in my arms. The words were no sooner out of my mouth than the potential implications began to set in, and my better judgment intervened.
Backing off is the right thing to do. We got caught up in a moment. That’s all it was. Allowing it to become more than that would be an invitation to disaster for both of us as well as the people we love best. And when it all goes bad, which one of us will be on the outside looking in on the life they once treasured? Not her.
