Page 17 of Playing For Keeps

“I want this. I do. I… I don’t want to rush into it. But I’d very much like to see you again. Is that okay?” he asked, looking down at her, and something about his expression gave her the impression he was as thrown off as she was—and perhaps even more insecure.

“I’d like that very much. Just… uh, text me. We’ll figure something out.” Farren’s breath shuddered out between her lips, and she licked them absentmindedly, the slight bite of ginger beer somehow still there from his kisses.

“Goodnight,” he whispered against her lips, an all-too-short kiss burning against them before he turned back toward the staircase. One last look at her and then he disappeared from view, the faint echo of his feet against the tile overly loud to her ears.

Farren turned to unlock the door, hand shaking, and she thanked her past self for getting the key into the lock earlier because it would have been a mission now. She lifted her purse from the ground, stepped into her apartment, and turned on the light that stung a little too brightly.

The click of the door shutting behind her was final, and Farren made her way over to her couch on weak legs. Sinking into the soft cushion, she exhaled heavily, finally taking a deep breath to try and still the calamity within her, sure of only one thing.

Sebastian wasn’t as cool, calm, and collected as he seemed on the outside. The way he’d kissed her… her fingers rose to touch her swollen lips, a shiver going through her at the memory.

Well, he was far more than she’d bargained for.

The drive back to his place was frantic. Between the way his body responded to hers and the images still flashing through his mind, it was a miracle he hadn’t run a red light or hit a curb in his haste to get home. It felt like a demand, a heat under the surface that wouldn’t abate no matter how much the car growled beneath him. When he got back to his empty apartment with its clean grays, plain and dark, it was hard not to imagine what hers would’ve looked like if he’d allowed himself to go inside.

Don’t kid yourself, her interior design choices were the last thing on your mind.

Sebastian would be thinking about it for a long time… about her and the way her body molded to his in the most delicious way.

She was hilarious, confident, and so alive. Farren Davis was trouble. She threatened the status quo he’d instituted after the disaster that was Ohio and Ashley, and the path he adhered to with strict, unwavering conviction since. Sebastian questioned the yearning to progress—his pressing need for success a little over time, when he was burned out—but it was easy to convince himself the promotion was worth it when it would cement his worth. He wanted out from the shadow of Ohio and his past.

Now that he wanted Farren as well—it could prove a problem.

What was he going to do? How could he keep his composure when she threatened the control he’d worked so hard to hone? It would probably be best to start distancing himself now, to step out gracefully before it got too tricky… before it became hurtful. He could be a good guy and stop misleading her; he could be clear about his priorities before things got too difficult to pull away from, because it would inevitably happen.

Sebastian was married to his work. Being available, sacrificing “play” time was a cornerstone on the way up to the top. He worried about her expectations, the time she was worth and how he would be unable to provide it. He should warn her, back away from her.

But we’re not going to do that. His thoughts were as dark as the barely banked desire in his core—tendrils of smoke obscuring the more rational part of his mind.

No, he wasn’t going to pull away. Even though he should. Even though he knew it would only complicate matters further if he didn’t. Because he’d gotten a taste of what it could be like with her. The laughs, the serenity flooding through him from just holding her hand… the seething want he couldn’t shrug off, even now, more than an hour since he left her there in her doorway. Sebastian wasn’t ready to let that go.

He took a cold shower to try and shock his system back to baseline. When it didn’t work, when he had to touch himself to get rid of the buzz burning under his skin—he couldn’t even bring himself to feel embarrassed by his response to the image of her falling apart beneath him. He knew she’d desired him just as much. Farren would have swung the door open to let him inside if he hadn’t interrupted her. Instead, he’d run all the way home, afraid of wanting, and getting what he wanted.

Sleep was fitful. Sebastian woke in twisted bedsheets, covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He checked his phone, disappointed to see no new messages, merely a crapload of work emails. Rational Sebastian was in charge today; in the harsh light of morning, he tucked away the remnants of last night and sat down at his laptop to answer emails. He put in over six hours of work before he stopped to eat, before he dared another look at his phone.

This time, a message waited.

Thanks again for last night.

I had a really good time.

xxx

He let it sit for another hour, finally shoveling lunch into his body while watching an episode of something on Netflix, so distracted he could barely register what was happening on-screen. When the feeling inside of him became too much to bear, begging to be unleashed, he finally responded.

Leaving you last night was the hardest

thing I’ve ever had to do.

He cringed a little at the message, but he’d already pressed send, No amount of fretting could pull it back out of the internet. Her response came seconds later.

It seemed like leaving wasn’t the only thing that was hard.

Or was that my imagination?

Sebastian inhaled a little gasp, almost choking on his own damn spit at her sassy message. He envied her, the openness with which she seemed to navigate the world, the way she said what she was thinking. There was once or twice where it seemed like she was shocked by what she herself said, as if the words tumbled right out from her brain with no process or filter.

He didn’t know what to say and was hesitant to continue this line of conversation. He was sure it would leave him hard and aching for her again, his mind addled with images of her body, and incapable of impartiality. So, he opted for diversion. She seemed to respond to that last night, to him being self-deprecating or trying to deflect anything deeper than surface-level for his own comfort.

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