He stalls, his fork halfway to his mouth. “My initials?”
“Yeah.”
“My middle name is Alexander.”
“Oh.” Before I can hide it, a smile hints at my lips. I shove the shrimp into my mouth, but he sees my amusement anyway.
“What did you think it stood for?” There’s a twinkle in his eye, as if he knows this is something I don’t want to admit.
And he’s right.
His attention doesn’t waver, patience winning out until I cave. He’s an expert at whittling away at the cracks in my foundation, working them over until they widen enough for me to slip into the vacuum of Sebastian Whatever-the-A-stands for Stone.
“I gave you a private nickname.” My cheeks warm under his scrutiny.
With a grin, he leans back. “You know I’m not budging until you tell me what it is.”
“You can’t make me tell you.”
“Bet I can.” Leaning into my shoulder, he shoves a hand between my thighs, and his sinful thumb caresses my slit through my panties. “If you don’t fess up, I’ll make you beg to come right here.”
My gaze darts left and right in a panic, but I know better than to push his hand away when he’s got that look about him, his expression hardened resolve that dares me to challenge him. If we were alone—without waitstaff bustling by—I’d be up for such a challenge.
“Sexy As Sin…that’s what I call you.”
“You think I’m sexy?” Instead of withdrawing his touch, he finds my bundle of aching nerves and gently flicks me there.
“Maybe I should have nicknamed you Sadistic and Smug.”
“You didn’t answer the question,” he says, increasing the rhythm of his bold caress.
“You’re still touching me.”
“I didn’t say I’d stop. I said I’d make you beg for it. You can’t beg if your mouth is busy.” He presses his lips to mine, and we stumble into a free-fall of a kiss, mouths parting, tongues battling, hearts yearning.
I grab hold of his shirt and moan. “Sexy as sin,” I breathe as we part.
He rests his forehead against mine. “I’m ready to get sexy and sinful with you. I don’t think I can hold off anymore.” Several seconds pass, and then he takes a deep breath, pulls away, and calls for the check.
Chapter Six
The drive back to the cottage is quick, and so is my stunned reaction when we step inside. Coming to a halt two feet from the entrance, I gape at the sight before me. Candles cover every surface, from the living room to the kitchen, the flames a brightening flicker in the shadows as the sun yearns for the horizon.
“When did you do this?”
“I had it done during dinner.” Without uttering another word, he takes my hand and leads me into the bedroom where even more candles blaze, accompanied by vases of plumeria.
“I can’t believe you did this.” There’s no doubt or accusation in my tone—only pure awe. “I didn’t expect it.”
“You deserve it.” The candlelight plays on his features as he moves closer. “You deserve so much more than what the twelve of us have given you.”
“Why does anyone deserve anything?” Something tells me he’s seen several harsh realities of his own, and though I want to know every last detail about him, I file it away for later.
“If anyone deserves to be adored, it’s you, Novalee. Your soul is pure. You don’t resort to guile or deceit. You feel with your heart, but you think with it too.” His eyes lock onto mine, and he lets a beat pass. “You deserve a real wedding night, but this is the closest to one I can give you.”
I blink. “What do you mean?”
He shakes his head, expression cast in regret. “Enough of the heavy shit tonight, remember?”
Instead of giving him a verbal answer, I reach for the buttons on his shirt and unfasten them, taking my time as my fingers trace the warm skin underneath. He lets the shirt fall off his shoulders before slipping a finger under the spaghetti strap of my dress.
His focus stalls on my breasts. “You wear a lot of blue. Is it your favorite color?”
Tugging my lower lip between my teeth, I watch as he slides the strap down my shoulder. “It’s been a subconscious choice…more recently.” Without elaborating, I meet his brilliant aqua eyes.
He lowers the other strap, and the light sundress accompanies his shirt on the floor. His famous smirk is absent, his expression cast in seriousness as if I’m his entire world. That look takes my breath away.
“Sebastian,” I breathe, setting my palms on his warm, muscular chest.
“Your hands feel good on me, princess.”
I trail my fingers down the ripple of his abs, bringing about a shudder, and I’m in awe that I have the power to pull such a reaction from him. Before I reach the waistband of his jeans, he grabs my hands, and his lips seek mine. I sigh as our mouths merge.