Page 52 of The Sebastian Guarantee
No woman had ever done that to him.
Under the crazy guise of American Man-eater Phoebe and Mr. Lickable Abs Sebastian, she’d kissed him first, and she hadn’t stopped there—not that he was complaining. He wasn’t a prude, and he was no virgin. He knew he was good in the sack. But he’d gone into every one-night stand assuming the role of the dominant party. He wasn’t a selfish lover, but he also wasn’t there to have his world turned upside down.
The truth is, he’d never slept with anyone who’d challenged him and pushed him out of his comfort zone.
A screw was a screw until Phoebe Gale rocked him off his axis.
Once she’d welcomed him into her sweet, wet heat and tightened around his rock-hard shaft, he’d been a goner. He couldn’t have stopped even if a runaway train had been headed straight for them, horn blaring and lights flashing. Nothing could have diverted his attention from the woman.
With a white-knuckled grip on the wheel, the blood supply to his head diverted straight to his cock as the words he’d gritted out in the heat of passion flowed through his sex-addled mind.
I’ll tell you when you can come.
He’d never spoken like that before. For him, sex had been about releasing steam and getting off. That’s not what had happened when Phoebe ensnared him in her web with her beguiling blue eyes. He’d lost himself to the rhythm of their bodies. He hadn’t thought before he’d uttered the filthy, possessive command. He’d allowed his carnal desire to take control. At that exact moment, if a genie had offered him one wish, he’d gladly have asked to remain locked in that slip of time, working Phoebe’s body like a sex machine and owning every drop of her pleasure. He inhaled a tight breath, recalling the delicious slide of his cock as he watched her writhe on the table, taking every hard inch, thrust after sweaty, breathy thrust.
He swallowed hard. Jesus, what was he doing? He couldn’t keep replaying the scene of their first sexual encounter again and again.
No, not only that. He couldn’t think of it as theirfirstsexual encounter.
It had to be theironlysexual encounter.
He couldn’t slip up. He had to focus for her and himself. But here’s what he knew, one shiny nugget of crucial information: the Sebastian Guarantee had helped her harness her confidence. Sure, she’d suggested the whole video game creative mode scenario, which had helped her relax. But he’d never seen her own her sexuality. He’d known her for most of her life. He’d seen the guys she’d dated over the years. There’d been no pop or sizzle between her and whatever douche du jour she was dating.
Had he ever liked any of the guys Phoebe went out with? No!No bloody way!Oscar had reminded him of that. Still, he’d never seen Phoebe look at another man like she couldn’t wait to be naked and tangled beneath the sheets with him—the way she’d looked at him. His approach, his Sebastian Guarantee, had to have been the catalyst that sparked her inner man-eater. And holy hell, it was one heck of a turn-on.
But he had to keep it professional. Luckily, he’d already started down that path.
When she’d retreated to the bathroom, he’d made sure he heard the shower running before he slipped his notebook from his bag and jotted down a few salient points. He’d started with the basics, compiling a list of Phoebe’s personal and professional life traits—pre-Sebastian Guarantee characteristics.
Did it feel cruel to write words likenerd,socially awkward, and poor at choosing supportive partners and advocating for oneself?Of course it did. But he hadn’t meant it as hurtful or harsh. It was science—behavioral observations required to establish a baseline. His goal was to turn her into a poised, self-assured woman who knew what she wanted and went for it. That’s what she’d asked him to do. She wanted to become a man-eater. Their foray into kitchen table sex had been a fluke—an emotional reaction to a tumultuous twenty-four hours. They’d find their working, platonic Sebastian Guarantee rhythm at LETIS. They’d return to being Pheebs and Sebby, two people who genuinely loved and cared for each other as friends.
Repeat: friends, friends, friends, friends.
Still, a whisper from the back of his mind couldn’t help but wonder if they were meant to be more than best friends. Just as the thought hit, he tried to imagine what life would be like if they dated and it didn’t work out. A dose of clawing anxiety hit his system. His stomach twisted. His heart hammered as if, locked within it, a pendulum gauging his emotions swung wildly between one side emblazoned with the wordfriendand the other with the wordlover.
There was only one answer.
He couldn’t imagine a life without her, and he couldn’t risk losing her. The six months he’d kept her at arm’s length had been hell. He couldn’t fixate on that, though. To successfully coach Phoebe through this weekend and get the data he needed to secure funding for his endeavors meant that he had to pull himself together. Still, when it came to his feelings for Phoebe, wouldn’t it be something if the universe was kind enough to send him a sign?
“Sebastian, that’s the sign,” Phoebe exclaimed, her voice cutting through the quiet like a car alarm piercing the air at three in the morning.
The sign?Had she read his mind? No, Christ, she meant an actual, physical sign-sign. He blinked and caught a flash of a road sign.
Next Exit, Glenn Pines Lodge.
“Hold on!” He jerked the wheel, swerving left, then right. Thank God they were the only car on the road. “Bugger all,” he murmured, hitting the brakes and banking hard to catch the off-ramp. Adrenaline exploded into his veins as he flew across two lanes of traffic. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths as the paved exit ramp gave way to an access road. Narrowing his gaze, he spied another sign for Glenn Pines and turned onto a gravel road leading straight into the dark wooded terrain.
“I didn’t mean to startle you, Seb. Are you okay? Do you want me to drive?” Phoebe asked. It was the most she’d said in hours.
“No, I’m good. I was just in my head, thinking about . . .” He couldn’t confess to the myriad of sexually graphic scenes he’d been playing over and over in his mind.
“What was on your mind?” she pressed.
“LETIS!” he cried like he was calling out bingo.Take it down a notch, man.“I was thinking about the game plan and reviewing elements of the Sebastian Guarantee.” He glanced at her, sure she’d be able to see through his inane prattling, but she didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he caught her wringing her hands.
Jesus, what was wrong with him? He wanted to punch himself in the mouth. She was nervous. This was a make-or-break event for her. He had to stop behaving like a horny teenager and start acting like her life coach.
With the soothing sound of the gravel crunching beneath the wheels, he gestured to the clock on the dashboard. “Looks like we made it. We’ve got a little over fifteen minutes to spare.”
