Chapter 45

Sebastian had spent most of the day working on his novel (a task that thankfully had been proving easier lately). He tried not to think about the possibility that the break from work had been what helped his writer’s block, especially when there was a chance that he might not be given the one he hoped for. And that thought brought his mind to Naomi—where he often found his thoughts wandering.

Which was why he texted her to see if she wanted to go out for dinner and a movie he’d been bugging her to see with him. When Naomi said she didn’t feel like going out tonight, he hadn’t hesitated to let his disappointment show.

You okay? he’d asked. We can see a different movie.

Just tired and feeling like I want to be lazy.

When Sebastian had written back that he thought she’d decided that years ago, she’d replied with an emoji with its tongue sticking out. At least his comment seemed to have made her smile. They exchanged a few more texts and he offered to cook dinner for her at his place if she felt like coming over.

He wasn’t sure exactly why he’d decided to try to cook, other than it seemed like a nice gesture. He figured he’d make something at his place so they could eat a home-cooked meal. He typically didn’t keep much food in his house other than cereal, fruit, eggs, protein shakes, and some other snacks, so he had to run to the store to pick up most of the ingredients. It wasn’t that he didn’t like to cook. He did. He just didn’t like cooking for one.

He thought back to when he used to cook all the time. He was the one who picked Matty up from day care every day because Celeste usually didn’t get home until around six. He’d always been the one to prepare dinner for the family, and when Matty was old enough, he’d happily joined in. The memories washed through him as he moved through his kitchen—pouring, measuring, mixing, and tasting. Matty was always the taster.

He was just finishing up when his doorbell rang. When he opened his door to find Naomi in leggings and an oversized Hainamor sweatshirt, he was glad they’d decided to stay in. She looked adorable and sexy in a way that he hadn’t seen before. Her hair was up in some sort of loose bun or ponytail, revealing all of her face, which, as far as he could tell, didn’t have a stitch of makeup on it.

He leaned in to give her a kiss, then offered her something to drink while he finished preparing the food and setting the table. When the meal was complete, he set it down so they could eat.

Folding her hands on her lap, she looked down at the mac and cheese, cranberry and walnut salad, and baked chicken. “I didn’t realize you were going to go to all this trouble.”

“It wasn’t any trouble,” he said as he took a seat on the side of the table adjacent to her and reached over so he could take her hand.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. “You’re so sweet.”

“Can you say that again so I can record it for future blackmail?”

“Not a chance,” she replied before putting a forkful of the salad in her mouth.

They began to eat, and the sounds at dinner shifted from chewing and silverware touching plates to casual talk. Somehow normal conversation had become as routine for them as brushing their teeth in the morning, and the silence that filled the space between exchanges no longer felt as though it was bursting with tension.

As they finished eating and Sebastian rose to clear the table, he noticed how right all of this felt, how comfortable. And that was a relatively new emotion to him. He knew what it was like to feel small moments of comfort—moments that were so ephemeral it was like a tide touching your toes before ebbing back out. And in an effort to prolong the sensation that everything was okay or would be okay, he leaned in to kiss her, hoping the kiss said everything he wasn’t able to say with words. That he liked her, maybe even more than liked her. And they didn’t need anything else to be happy—a bestselling novel or a published poetry collection or a Distinguished Professor Award. The only thing they needed was this right here, their mouths pressed together, tongues tangling slowly like they were dancing to music no one else could hear.

As he deepened the kiss, he wondered if Naomi felt the same. He’d never imagined wanting to be with someone again after Celeste, as if it were a betrayal of sorts to make love to someone other than the mother of his child.

But now—with Naomi—he wasn’t sure who he’d been betraying: his deceased wife or himself. Because the thought of not having this right here felt like a kind of betrayal he didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone accept as a truth.

It felt selfish and cold, and everything people accused Sebastian of being. But that didn’t stop him from wanting it—wanting to pull Naomi onto his lap so he could wrap his arms around her and feel the heat of her skin when he pulled her shirt off and let it fall to the floor. Her legs were draped to the side of his, but soon she shifted so she was straddling him.

They kissed for a while—softly, slowly, sensually—before Naomi began to grind over him. His cock had been hard since her body had made contact with it, but now it was throbbing with need. His mouth moved down her neck to her chest, causing little sounds to escape from her that had him grabbing her hips to hold her in place. She let out a small whimper as a plea, but he waited for a moment before guiding her to a standing position in front of him.

She tensed as his fingers trailed between her breasts and around her nipples before heading south to lower her pants. His cock pressed against his jeans as it hardened even further, and the sensation had him wanting to rub a hand over himself when he slid a finger inside her. She ground herself over his hand when his thumb began to circle her clit, and he closed his eyes to feel every bit of contact. She was so warm and wet, and it wasn’t long before he dipped his face down between her thighs, sucking on her clit and lapping up her desire.

Naomi’s breaths quickly turned to heavy pants, and her legs quaked with every thrust of his fingers. She was wild now, so needy and uninhibited. Her hands pulled at his hair, and her nails scratched over the back of his neck. “Please,” she begged, and the word was more of a breath than an actual sound.

She was desperate, and so was he. He wanted her to let go for him, release all of her tension and let him absorb it. He slid in and out of her a few more times before he felt her body contract and then shatter around him. Slowing his rhythm, he waited to pull out of her until he was sure every last echo of her climax had vibrated through her. He wished he could have seen her face when she finally came because he was certain it was beautiful. The way she quivered in his hand as he held her steady, how her body seemed to need his for support, the little cries of pleasure that let him know how good this felt for her until she stilled and the air held an audible silence.

It was something he’d never thought he’d let himself experience again. And he didn’t regret it for a moment.