Chapter 8

The rest of the night had passed in a blur. Once she’d managed to refocus the girls on the fact that Sebastian was the only thing standing between Naomi and getting her happily ever after, they’d gotten back with the program. While they hadn’t actually made any serious plans to destroy Sebastian, they had done exactly what Naomi had needed: made him less of a threat and more of a joke. And Naomi couldn’t lose this award to a joke.

After climbing into bed, she grabbed her phone from her bedside table and opened it so she could set the alarm. She had to be back on campus by ten to set up for the fall activities fair. As she unlocked the screen, she was confronted by the picture of Sebastian. Despite her initial impulse to recoil and press the Home button, she instead let herself study the picture for a minute.

Sebastian’s expression was serious, without a hint of a smile. He looked like his typical arrogant jerk self, but Naomi had to concede that it kind of worked for him. Gave him an air of confidence that was as intriguing as it was repelling. Naomi had met a ton of writers who worked the dark-and-brooding angle, but it was clear that Sebastian had absorbed inner torment into his soul rather than wearing it like a facade. Naomi could almost appreciate that one got what one saw with Sebastian. He looked like a dick and he was one. Simple as that.

Though it wasn’t really that simple, because there had to be more to him. He clearly knew how to connect with students. While he was often standoffish with colleagues, he seemed open and patient with the students she’d observed him talking to during his office hours. He was an enigma, that Sebastian. One she wasn’t going to figure out that night, or any other for that matter. Because she didn’t care enough to try.

Clicking out of the internet, she set her alarm before plugging in her phone and setting it back on the table. Naomi snuggled under her lilac-colored comforter and drifted off with hazy thoughts of Sebastian getting trapped in her phone for all eternity.

Soon, sleep overtook her completely, and her exhaustion from the past couple of days pulled her deep into dreamland.

The big, strong hand trailed slowly down her exposed torso, leaving a trail of goosebumps along her sternum between her breasts. His touch was light and fluid as he continued down to her navel before flattening out so that his entire palm rested against the softness of her stomach.

The hand wrapped around to her hip, finger pressing into the bone there before sweeping back up to her abdomen, where his fingers began toying with the edge of her white panties.

The throb of her clit begged him to move lower, but she remained silent, afraid that words would ruin the moment. Her nipples were pebbled and her breaths came in pants of anticipation. Because even though he was taking his time, there was no doubt where his hands were heading. No doubt that they’d eventually migrate to where her body needed him most. Her skin buzzed with the excitement of knowing she would get her pleasure but having no idea when it would come.

When he finally let his other hand join the party, Naomi wanted to cry with relief. His hands kneaded her skin as they wrapped easily around her waist. The elastic band of her panties slid lower and lower with every flex of his tanned hands against her pale skin. Finally, he gripped the material and tore it in half as if he were ripping a piece of paper from a notebook.

One of his hands slid down her pelvis and when his thumb made contact with her clit, she arched off the bed. The foreplay had gotten her close, and it wouldn’t take much to throw her over the edge into oblivion.

“Come for me, Naomi.”

The voice was familiar, but she was too far gone to place it. Her body began to writhe on the bed as her hands scrambled to find something to grip. Every inch of her skin tingled as though electricity was coursing through it. Her orgasm bore down on her, but her body couldn’t quite connect with it. It was as if she was preparing to swan dive off a cliff but kept getting held back just as her body started to drift forward.

The hand kept up its ministrations on her, the thumb working over her clit as two other fingers plunged into her. Every feeling was heightened as bliss descended on her. Release was so close she felt as though she could almost reach out and grab it.

“Don’t fight it, Naomi. Just give in to it. To me.”

This time the voice registered. And despite how close she’d been to climaxing, the recognition was like a bucket of ice water on her aching clit.

Naomi gasped and bolted upright. She looked around frantically, trying to take in her surroundings. Her breathing began to even out as she realized she was in her room. A glance at the window told her it was still nighttime. Clutching her comforter, Naomi plopped backward and covered her eyes with her forearm as the realization that she’d been dreaming settled her nerves somewhat. Somewhat, but not completely.

Under normal circumstances, Naomi would welcome a sex dream, especially one as explosive as what she’d just experienced. But it had become more of a nightmare when she realized it hadn’t been some faceless man who’d been about to get her off. No, it had been the one man who she’d never take any pleasure in. Ever.

Sebastian fucking Blake.

Naomi groaned at what a cliché she was. What self-respecting woman fantasized about a man she hated—and who hated her in return? It didn’t help that Addison’s words filled her mind. She’d allowed herself to verbally admit the demon that walked in the daylight as Sebastian Blake was attractive. And it had changed everything.