“You’re not.”
“I thought I lost you.”
“Never.”
“He had you on that island all to himself…leaving you there would have been the best thing for you.”
“I wanted to come back to you.”
And I did. It was hell at first, but it was worth it because I never want to let him go, especially now that I’m back in his arms. Without thinking, I press up on my toes and seek his mouth. Pure instinct drives me, uncontrollable need, and despite history’s lesson on foolish actions and the consequences that go with them, there isn’t an atom in my body capable of keeping my lips from his.
Only Sebastian has that power, and he wields it by gripping the back of my neck, denying me access to his mouth. I let out a gasp of hurt, his rejection serving as a bitter reminder that forgiveness isn’t so easily given.
He presses a thumb against my mouth. “We aren’t doing this again.”
“Because you can’t forgive me?”
Letting go of my neck, he tangles a hand in my hair and brushes a soft kiss on my forehead. “Because I just got my exile reversed, and I can’t lose you again.”
“I’m sick of the rules and superstitions. I just want to be with you.”
“We’ve got five more months and a lot of shit to work through first.”
“Do you…?” I falter, wishing I could see his expression. “Do you still want to marry me?”
“Yes,” he says without hesitation, even as he lets me go. “But we have to get there first, which means you need to go back to the ball before someone finds us in here.” He pulls the door open a crack, allowing a sliver of light to shine in from the hallway.
“Are you coming back to the dance?”
“I’ll be there in a few.”
In the light, I catch him adjusting himself, and my blood simmers in my veins. No matter the betrayals and heartbreaks, we’ll always hunger for each other like an out-of-control fire consuming everything in its path.
And all we can do is feed it.
I slip into the hall, hot between the thighs, and wonder how I’ll find the nerve to submit to Ford’s request with Sebastian watching every moment, a spectator in the crowd.
4
I arm myself with liquid courage, swiping glass after glass from the waitstaff passing around fruit-infused bubbly. Champagne is supposed to be tart, not this sweet stuff that tastes like soda water. I doubt it’s meant to go down in a gulp or two, but I’m on my fifth glass when Sebastian enters the ballroom.
He looks no less put-together than he did thirty minutes ago—black tux impeccable, hair combed back, cuff links fastened, silver mask in place—only now there’s a glow to his skin; a negligible sheen few would notice. I only recognize it because I’ve witnessed him in the aftermath of climax before.
Swallowing a groan at the thought of him pleasuring himself, along with the rest of my champagne, I head straight for him, my steps uneven as the room spins. Along the way, I grab another glass from a passing tray, and that’s when Landon inserts himself in my path.
“You’ve had enough,” he says, commandeering my drink.
“Keep it.” I jut my chin toward the crystal flute he stole. “There’s no shortage of champagne around here.”
A frown tugs at his lips. “What are you doing, Novalee?”
“Enjoying the ball.” Annoyance with his big-brother tactics builds, and I flutter my lashes at him. “Shouldn’t you be doing the same with your wife?”
“I was until she pointed out you’re drinking your weight in champagne. Who do you think sent me over here?” He gestures toward Elise, and I spot my former lady sitting at a small table on the edge of the room. The low lighting shadows her features, but I imagine the worry pulling at her brows.
It’s been too long since I’ve talked to her. Upon the realization, another bout of shame floods me. I’ve turned into the type of person I despise. Self-absorbed, unable to look beyond my own issues, consumed to the point that I forgot the one person in this tower who’s been there for me since the beginning.
The floor seems to tilt again, and Landon steadies me with a hand on my shoulder. “Go sit with Elise for a while.”