“He’d better. That’s how I raised him.”
I offer her a smile.
“So, let me see your knees. Humor an old lady.”
I laugh. “You’re not old, Mrs. Bennett.” I point to my knees, and she immediately pours alcohol on a pad.
Holy hell, that stings.
“Motherf—” I clamp a hand over my mouth, squeezing my lips together as she tends to my wounds. The burning sensation lasts even after she’s done, though it lessens in intensity.
“I want to thank you.”
“For what?” I ask, confused.
Mrs. Bennett smiles and sits on the couch next to me. “For making my son so happy. I haven’t seen him like this in years. I don’t know if others notice the difference, but I do. He’s opened up to you and welcomed you into his life in a way I feared he’d never do.”
I remain silent, unsure what to say, my emotions rolling to form a lump in my throat.
“I was so happy when I found out he asked you to move in with him. He saw how special you are. If you aren’t next to him, he searches for you. I’ve watched him. He’s not even aware. He simply needs you.” She pulls me into a hug that I return wholeheartedly. She smells of warmth and love, and it’s wonderful and motherly. Oh no. My eyes sting. God damn it, I have to control the sprinklers. Taking a deep breath, I calm myself, and my eyes are surprisingly dry after she lets me go.
“What’s taking you two so long?” Sebastian’s voice booms from the hallway.
“Like I said, he can’t stay away from you.” Mrs. Bennett winks at me, pushing herself up from the couch and leaving the room. She and Sebastian exchange a few words in the hallway, and then the front door shuts.
Sebastian enters the living room.
“How is my girl? Ready to go back out?”
Sinking deeper in the couch, I confess, “I want to stay here a little longer. It smells like heaven.”
Sebastian furrows his brow, as if he’s considering something. “Let’s go to the kitchen and steal some pie.”
“It can’t be ready.”
“I know Mom. The pie’s been ready for at least an hour.” His eyes light up with a look of mischief. Suddenly, he appears younger by at least ten years. Taking my hand, Sebastian helps me stand, leading me to the kitchen. He’s right, the pie is ready. I cut two slices, putting them on the plates Sebastian hands me. I’m about to dive right into it, but he stops me.
“Wait, it’s better with whipped cream.”
Armed with whipped cream and the plates, Sebastian shoulders open a door that leads directly into the garden on the other side of the house. There’s no one here, and the moon is the only source of light. We settle on the small, wooden bench next to the door. I add whipped cream, and we dig in.
“This is delicious,” I mumble through mouthfuls. Sebastian grunts in agreement. Neither of us speaks until we’ve finished eating and put the plates on the floor.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ava
“You have cream on the tip of your nose,” Sebastian says with a smile. I wipe myself clean, a little embarrassed. He covers my mouth in an unexpected kiss. Our tongues meet in a clash, and everything blurs for me except him. Everything about him comes into focus. His taste, for one. Cinnamon mingled with the flavor of him. His scent excites me: mint shower gel and the underlying smell of him—oh, I know that one so well. In a haze, I feel him pulling me into his lap, careful not to touch my knees. Our lips don’t part at all, as I fist his hair with both hands. He rests his fingers on my waist. Remembering what Mrs. Bennett said about his feelings for me, I shudder. I feel the same way about him, and it’s damn frightening.
As if sensing my predicament, he pulls back, resting his forehead against mine. “Is everything okay?”
I cannot withhold the truth from Sebastian. Also, the darkness around us gives me courage.
“I’m scared,” I confess.
His fingers tighten on my waist, but his voice remains gentle. “Of what?”
“My feelings for you. I’ve. . . It’s the first time I. . .” My voice fades as I search for the right words. “I’ve never had feelings this strong for anyone else.”