Page 69 of In the Net
“The girls and I have been meaning to get one for our kitchen, since there’s so little counter space, but a big empty spot next to the refrigerator.”
Sebastian steps forward and effortlessly lifts the large box that I wouldn’t be able to dream of carrying. He has it hoisted and resting against his shoulder like it’s nothing. “Let’s get it, then.”
I give him a pointed look like he’s missing the obvious. “I could never carry that thing home.”
The whites of his teeth flash. “That’s what you have a big, strong boyfriend for.”
Protesting was futile.
We’re back at my house. Sebastian carried the table the whole way. He wouldn’t even let me carry all the grocery bags, insisting he haul more than half of them in his free hand.
He was showing off.
He’s still showing off. Instead of dropping off the table and going back home, he’s insisted on assembling it himself.
His pizzas are in my freezer to preserve them while he sprawls out on the living room floor for space, directions open and tools and parts from the box spread out.
The other girls aren’t home right now. I wish they were. Because going on a shopping trip with Sebastian, followed by being alone with him in my house while he assembles a piece of furniture for me—now that feelswaytoo domestic.
“I really can do it myself,” I protest for the umpteenth time, bringing him a glass of water.
He just waves me off, his tongue peeking from between his lips as he puzzles over the next step on the directions sheet.
Even though he’s kissed me twice, even though I almost had a freaking orgasm all over his leg, I still haven’t felt that tongue.
I wonder how he would use it during a kiss. I have an idea. Hungry, searching, dominating. His tongue would press past my lips and take exactly what he wanted.
Another question fires through my brain like a chain reaction. What would Sebastian be like in bed?
Even if he’s usually selfish and lazy, with me, I bet he’d be good.
He’d be smug and haughty. In peak form, making sure I come multiple times, just so he’d have something to hold over my head. Just so he’d have one more thing to be cocky about, one more thing to tease me about.
He’d bring it up all the time, the way he made me come apart underneath him. He’d use it as a trump card in every argument.
Heat rushes through me, and I shove the thought out of my head.
“Ah, that’s where this part goes,” he says to himself, reaching for one of the pieces.
I allow my gaze to linger on him for too long as he bends over his work.
He took off the hoodie he was wearing earlier, now clad in just a tight white undershirt and his black jeans. As he turns the tool to tighten something into place on the table, his back muscles swell, rippling against the fabric that’s thin enough for the healthy glow of his skin to show through the white.
He leans further over to put another piece into place. The hem of his shirt rides up, revealing his trim waist. My cheeks heat, and I look away.
“Why don’t you put a show on the TV while I’m putting this together,” he suggests. Then he turns to me, a devilishlook on his face. “Or is watching your boyfriend hard at work entertainment enough?”
I didn’t expect that Sebastian would get so much perverse joy from throwing words likeboyfriendandgirlfriendat me. I guess he just knows they make me uncomfortable, and that’s where the satisfaction comes from.
I pick up the remote and search through the options on one of the streaming services we have.
“Oh!” Sebastian says, glancing up from his work. “PutFrasieron.”
I lift an eyebrow at him. “You likeFrasier? Are you forty-five?”
A knowing smile crooks on his lips. “Don’t even pretend that you don’t like it, too.”
Okay, maybe I do like it, but why would he be able to guess that?
