21

tabby

 

I woke up with a wistful sigh against a pillow that wasn’t mine. Hell, so much wasn’t mine, I quickly realized. An arm, draped over my waist and heavy with sleep. A bristled chin, tucked into the space where neck meets shoulder. A splash of yellow blurring into red. A chest, blanketed in curls and heaving with every breath, pressed to my back.

Sebastian.

For a man who had never slept in the same bed with a woman before, he certainly seemed to know what he was doing. Wrapped around my body like a koala, there was no chance of me leaving the bed without waking him up, but did I really want to leave? Yes. Well, not really, but yes. I needed to pee, and I needed to make sure Greyson didn’t find out about this. But otherwise … no. I didn’t want to leave. He felt, smelled, and looked good. Strong arms, strong legs, and toned everything else. I wanted to stay and stroke the hairs on his arms until he woke gently, but God, I needed to pee.

“Hey.” I lifted my hand and nudged against his chin. No response. “Sebastian?” Another nudge and his lips twitched.

He grunted awake, with his temple still kissing mine. “I hate being woken up,” he mumbled, his voice fuzzy with lingering sleep.

“Yeah, but I have to pee.”

“So, go pee,” he grumbled irritably, rolling the other way to release me from his hold.

I’m not sure what I expected from a morning after. We both knew this was a no-strings type of deal. A means for release—of stress, grief, whatever—but I guess I wasn’t expecting his tone to be so brash and rude. Like he wanted me to go. I felt rejected as I sat up, looking over my bare shoulder to watch him settle on his back, with his arms outstretched. I stood up then gasped when his hand hit my ass, and I turned around to find his lips stretched into a smirk.

“You better be coming back when you’re done.” There was a more coherent sound to his voice, now lifted with happiness, and I smiled.

“I’ll be right back.”

Naked and not caring, I walked to the bathroom adjacent to his room. He hadn’t been lying about the jacuzzi tub. It was big—room for two—and there were two sinks in the vanity. This house was obviously meant for a couple. A strange purchase for a guy hell-bent on remaining single forever.

It dawned on me, perhaps that wasn’t always his intention. Or maybe his mother had insisted he buy a house that could one day accommodate a family, or at the very least a wife—just in case. Still, I believed him when he said he’d never had a woman in this house, and it wasn’t lost on me that the only reason he allowed me here was because of Greyson.

I went back to his bed, happy to find him awake and waiting for me. He stretched his arms out, already luring me back with wiggling fingers, and I collapsed into him. Funny, when just a few days ago, all I wanted was to run away.

“I think you’re a witch,” Sebastian said, his voice clear and deep.

I giggled. “A witch, huh?”

“Yes.” He nodded, stroking his fingers over my back and shoulders.

“And why do you think that?”

“Well, for starters, your name is witchy as fuck, okay. Don’t deny that.”

When was the last time I’d laughed this much after just waking up? “It kind of is, yeah.”

I glanced at him to find his face twisted with thought. “Actually, you know what? You and your sister both have witchy names. Were your parents, by any chance, Merlin and Sabrina? Because that would make a shitload of sense right now.”

“No.” I was bubbling with little bursts of giggles, twisting my fingers into his chest hair and closing my eyes. “Their names were Charles and Josephine.”

“O-kay. So, your parents were British royalty and they had witches for daughters. Got it.” He kissed my forehead. “Anyway, aside from your name, there’s the fact that I have never in my life slept quite like that, and I sleep pretty well even on a bad day. I mean, I sleep like a fucking log, but last night was …” He shook his head, sending an exhale out with a gust. “Last night was crazy. I feel like I’ve slept for a week.”

“I feel pretty good too,” I told him, acknowledging how foreign it was to feel so refreshed.

“Well, yeah, I would think so,” he snickered. “I mean, you came, how many times? Fourteen, fifteen?” I snorted and clapped a hand over my face as he chuckled. “You’re so welcome, by the way. And that’s another thing too, actually.”

“What is?” My voice traveled with my laughter, as I moved my hand lower over the tight and tattooed skin of his stomach.

“The sex.” He was nodding again, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

“Please do not tell me it was the best sex of your life,” I groaned, tracing my finger over the strip of dark blonde hair, a pathway from navel to groin. “You don’t need to lie to me like that.”

“I won’t lie,” he promised. “I won’t lay here and tell you I’ve never been with women who knew what they were doing. Because let me tell you, Thumbelina, I’ve had some incredible sex in my time.”

“Uh-huh,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes. “So, if you’ve already had the best of the best, then what was so special about me?” I might’ve been fishing for a compliment, but what girl didn’t do that from time to time?

“It was memorable.”

The severity of his voice brought me to lift my head and look directly at him. His face was sincere and straight, without any sign of laughter or joking evident on his lips or in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve been with so many women, that I don’t remember any of them. Like, after a while, you stop remembering every cup of coffee you drink when you drink it every day, you know? That’s how sex is for me. It’s nothing, it’s … it’s coffee.” He shrugged, playing at nonchalance while his arm tightened around my shoulders, pulling me closer and squeezing my arm. “But last night wasn’t like that.”

His heart was pounding like thunder against my ear. “What made it different?”

“I wanna do it again,” he stated so plainly, and I tipped my head back to catch his eyes.

“What happened to no strings?”

“I didn’t say anything about strings,” he pointed out, winking. “I’m saying, you and I are going to know each other, we’re going to see each other, and I figure, as long as I’m not on tour, and you’re available, why the fuck not?”

Why the fuck not, indeed. “So, you’re saying you want us to be …”

“Fuck buddies, friends with benefits, whatever you wanna call it. Or we can just, you know, not call it anything and just let it be what it is.” His voice was so casual, like he was talking about what he ate for breakfast or what his plans were for the day.

“I figured it was a one-and-done type of thing,” I confessed.

“Yeah, well …” He let the words linger in the air. They hung there and made me question what it was that should follow. There were so many possible options, so many things that could’ve slipped in place of the silence, until he finally added, “Neither of us said when.”

 

***

 

The three of us drove in Sebastian’s Range Rover to his parents’ place in Tarrytown. Greyson was excited, passing by the Sleepy Hollow town sign and asking Sebastian what it was like to grow up so close to the legendary town.

“Lame,” he laughed. “I didn’t get into it the way other people did. But Halloween was always fun.”

Greyson made him promise they could do something together for Halloween. I glanced at Sebastian, hoping he wouldn’t make a promise he couldn’t keep. I didn’t know what his schedule looked like months from now. I only knew he was off for the summer months, and after that, well, who knew.

He caught my questioning glare, and reading my mind, told me, “Even if I’m not here, I’ll fly him out to wherever I am.”

“Really?” Greyson gripped the backs of our seats, pulling himself forward. “You’re serious?”

“Hell yeah,” Sebastian said with enthusiasm.

I glared at him with a warning. “Uh, school?”

“Access to jets, baby,” he waggled his brows at me, and I groaned, rolling my eyes. “But seriously, if he misses a day or two of school, would that really be the biggest deal?”

“No, I guess not,” I conceded, sighing. “But you have to keep your grades up, okay?”

It felt wrong, using Greyson’s budding relationship with his father as a bargaining chip, but Sebastian nodded his agreement. “Yeah, that’s a good idea, actually. Keep your grades up, and we can do cool shit. Do shitty in school, and you’re stuck cleaning my gutters and polishing my drums. Deal?”

And to my amazement, Greyson nodded as he sat back into his seat. “Yeah, okay. Deal.”

Sebastian lifted his knuckles to me, and I tapped mine against his fist. I turned toward the window, smiling to myself as we pulled into the long, winding driveway of his parents’ farmhouse. Just a few days ago, I never would’ve expected this man-child of a rock star to be an actual help with Greyson, let alone a tentative parent, and a help to me. I knew we—I—had a long way to go, but hope was suddenly a reality, and I knew it was because of him.