Page 71 of The Sebastian Guarantee
He couldn’t figure out if she was making a statement or asking a question.
He knew what he had to do.
Say what she needs to hear.
He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yes, where nothing counts.”
Chapter15
PHOEBE
Phoebe yawned. She rolled her head from side to side and sank into the fluffy pillow. With her eyes closed, she stretched beneath the quilt. Had her body ever felt this loose, this sated, this deliciously satisfied? Oh, hell no. Could it have been a dream? That was another hell no. The sweet ache between her thighs served as proof that she’d aced her seduction pop quiz. She’d never done anything like her little vibrator masturbation exhibition. Never in a million years would she have described herself as a nymphomaniac until last night.
An exhilarating tingle danced down her spine. Still riding a euphoric high from hours of sexual escapades was a delightful way to meet the day. She and Sebastian had earned extra credit on the bed, on the floor, against the dresser, and on the wobbly cot, which they’d destroyed. Okay, destroyed might be too strong a description. But their strenuous activity atop it had rendered the hotel staple permanently out of order.
Note to self: never attempt a rollicking, rambunctious bout of bouncy reverse cowgirl with a six-foot-four brick house of a man on an unsteady padded surface. On the plus side, it had, however, led to another round of Sebastian taking her hard and fast from behind on the floor.
Hmm, maybe she should invest in a rickety cot.
No, she couldn’t.
They’d merely been adhering to the Sebastian Guarantee. The sex was an assignment, a vehicle to assist her in honing her man-eater skill set. She had to move on. She couldn’t relive the events of last night.
Too bad her brain hadn’t gotten the memo.
Not a second after she’d tried to shut down her thoughts about Sebastian rocking her body, her traitorous brain went there, big time. Like a movie montage, she pictured Sebastian between her thighs. She could nearly feel his lips pressed to hers as she recalled Sebastian holding her in his arms all night long. She’d fallen asleep with his muscled chest against her back and his warm breath against her neck—that slow, melodic in and out she’d heard more times than she could count. She’d grown up having sleepovers with him. She’d spent holidays bunking with him, Aria, and Oscar. She knew how he sounded when he slept. But she’d never known the bliss of listening to him sleep as she drifted off with his naked body pressed to hers.
She pictured his face—his beautiful, perfectly chiseled face. There was a slip of seconds where he’d looked at her as if she made up his entire universe, like he’d wanted it to count with her, like they weren’t role-playing, but instead, were two people completely in sync and absolutely crazy about each other. She could have sworn he was on the cusp of professing his feelings, but he’d blinked, and the emotion in his eyes had muted. Whatever sentiments he’d had bubbling to the surface, he’d tucked them away.
Then again, she could be wrong.
Perhaps it was her sentimental heart, a heart that could mistake lust for love.
Case in point: Jeremy Drewler.
What should she do about him? Had he been telling the truth? Did the man honestly want to win her back? She sighed. She didn’t have the bandwidth to worry about him—not with Sebastian’s scent on her skin, his taste in her mouth, and the imprint of his hands on her body. Creative mode had allowed them to stretch the parameters of their relationship, but one irrefutable fact remained: he was her best friend.
Did she want more? And if she did and shared this with him and he rejected her, how would they move forward? Thanks to the jerks she’d dated who’d played fast and loose with her affections, her heart had been bruised. But Sebastian’s rejection would surely shatter it.
“Quiet down, brain,” she whispered.
There was a good chance her runaway imagination was a reaction to a life that had gone off the rails. Over the past few days, every facet of her world had turned upside down and inside out. Maybe she should take a few tips from Phoebe 2.0 and embrace her fierce sexual energy.
She rolled over and cracked open her eyes, expecting to see the man. Instead, she stared at a tray with a plate of cookies and a glass of chocolate milk. She blinked. Was she dreaming? Truth be told, she loved cookies, and it wasn’t that uncommon for them to appear in her dreams. She inhaled. They sure smelled like real cookies—her favorite, chocolate chip, to be exact. She reached from beneath the quilt and touched the plate. It wasn’t a baked goods mirage. This was the real deal. Sebastian must have gotten them for her. She sat up, plucked a beauty from the stack, and raised it to her mouth.
Before she could take a bite, a squeak, followed by the beat of water pelting off the tile, distracted her from her breakfast of champions. She retrieved her glasses, then peered through the half-open bathroom door.
Her breath caught in her throat. “Mr. Lickable Abs in a towel.”
Her eyeballs were glued to the half-naked man. Sebastian leaned against the sink as billows of steam filled the room. She clenched her core and took a hot minute to drink in his strong shoulders, muscled arms, and his oh-so-lickable abs. She slipped out of bed, hastily threw on his now-wrinkled button-up shirt, then tiptoed toward him.
He hadn’t noticed her, but something was weighing heavily on him. He pursed his lips and frowned. What had him so growly? Armed with a cookie, she moved closer. Still unaware he was being stalked by an abs-obsessed woman wielding a cookie, he turned and picked something up from off the ground. It was his notepad. But he had something else in his hands. Two items rested on his palm: his pocket watch with his mother’s photo and the blue-green aquamarine stone his stepmom had given him. He set the trinkets on the sink and opened the notepad. She took another step and hit a creaky floorboard.
Sebastian slapped the notebook closed and peered out the door. “I didn’t hear you get up.”
“What are you up to in there?” she asked, padding through the doorway.
His cheeks grew rosy. “Just work. Making some notes, going over a few results.”
