Page 34 of King of Clubs

Good lord.

He shifted slightly in his chair, eyes remaining on Andy as he put the smallest amount of distance between us, for his sake or mine I wasn’t sure. But when he began rolling his sleeves up to his forearms I pushed the chair back hastily and excused myself. Too much.

Tattooed, veiny forearms were my undoing. Accompanying drool be damned, that image would be at the forefront of my mind tonight.

Near jogging straight into my ensuite, I splashed some much needed water on my face.

“Get it together!” I self-reprimanded. His presence threw me off kilter and I was sweating in places I didn’t even realise had pores. Visibly flushed, and definitely not just from the fishbowl sized glass of wine I was drinking to calm my nerves, I couldn’t be near him without feeling this dull sense of longing.

I hadn’t yet mentioned the return of my libido to Suzie, thinking this wasn't something I needed to dissect with someone I was also paying. My sex-drive had never been super-high. Once a week was enough to satisfy me. It was something that should have been normal, especially for someone my age, but at times I wondered if there was something wrong especially when I lost all desire as I lost any attraction to Lucas.

But even before I met Lucas, it was nothing even close to what I felt now. I heard about people who loved nothing more than finding someone to spend the night with as often as possible, but it wasn't high on my priority list. Until now.

Realising I was crossing the line into too long of a bathroom break, I exited my room a fraction calmer than when I entered. Rounding the corner into the hallway, I smacked headfirst into a solid, warm and very delectable smelling chest. Before I could stumble backwards, those arms from earlier encased and steadied me and I felt the whispers of breath as Sebastian spoke into my ear.

“I wondered where you disappeared to.” Shivering, I looked up and into his rich hazel eyes. I could hear Arna telling Andy about the conversation with Queeny in the next room and a sharp thrill ran through me at the knowledge that we were alone.

Looking at his jaw to avoid his penetrating gaze, I mustered every ounce of courage to provide him a truth.

“I needed air. When I’m near you, I can’t think straight,” my heart was racing and I opened and closed my hands, settling them against his chest. My cheeks were warm and I knew if I could see my face, they would be bright red.

He spoke softly, careful not to draw attention to us as voices from the other room continued.

“Ever since I met you, I haven’t been able to think straight and it’s driving me crazy.” His admission shocked me and I flicked my eyes up, meeting his heated gaze.

“Huh!”

Huh? Intelligent, Marls.

He still held me against his body, despite my apparent inability to articulate words, pulling me into him a little tighter and the bulge that sent me racing for fresh air only a few minutes ago, pressed firmly into my stomach. My breathing quickened and he moved his hands down to my lower back, holding me as he buried himself into my neck.

“I want nothing more than to take you into that bathroom and show you how hard you make me. But with all the noises you make, I doubt you would be able to stay quiet.” I grabbed hold of his shirt, his words affecting me in ways that I wasdefinitelygoing to need to satisfy later.

Our eyes locked as he gazed down to my mouth.

Please let him kiss me.

His lips were begging me to taste them and I was ready this time. Ready to see if he would taste as I imagined.

I hadn’t considered being with anyone else since I left Lucas, but I’d been hard pressed thinking of anything else since I first met Sebastian.

I followed the deep outer brown of his eyes and admired the way they moved into a darkish hazel mirroring the gaze of what I found out today was a panther on his forearm. Urgh. Those forearms. I wonder if he would let me snap a quick photo to stare at later tonight. Or if I could just pause this moment for a second, skol a couple of glasses of wine and return to his arms with a liquid composure.

I’d never felt such a fierce and instant connection and the realisation clawed up my throat, a panic desperate for oxygen.

I was a mess.

I carried more baggage than a passenger aircraft and here he was with his divine muscles, delicious smelling body and completely normal life. If he kissed me I would be done for and I’d be inflicting a broken mess onto him.

“You don’t want this,” I whispered, my words a soft gush of air meant for him or myself, I didn't know.

“What if I do?” he murmured. His answering question heated with a desperation amplified by the way his fingers laced into my hair.

“I’m damaged,” I added truthfully, startling myself a little with my unfiltered honesty.

His narrowed gaze could only be described as assessing as he shook his head the slightest amount. Time felt as though it was at a stand still. His lips begged me to take them against my own, to devour him. Let him devour me.

I felt like I could have covered myself with a cold face cloth to manage the inferno that he carried through his hands and into my being. His mouth opened on the slightest part, his response on the tip of his tongue, before he searched my eyes and instead closed the gap between us, covering my mouth with his own.

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