Reckless In Love(49)

Any way she looked at it-and sometimes she felt that was all she did,  examine the situation from every possible angle-she couldn't do that to  Sebastian. Not when it would be ungrateful, and worse, it would seem as  though she'd chosen teaching over him.

Something had to give-either teaching or the parties. But there was one  thing she absolutely would not give up. Not for anything in the world.

Sebastian.

She wanted him with a need that scared her sometimes. Her fear abated  when he touched her, looked at her, when he loved her late at night in  his big bed until she was boneless with pleasure. And she knew he was in  as deep as she was.

But then a new day dawned, and alone in her workshop all those bigger,  heavier storm clouds still gathered above her. If she couldn't figure  out how to survive in his world of important parties and even more  important people, did she stand to lose everything? She honestly wasn't  sure how long she could keep on being that perfect celebrity. One  day-and she could feel it coming soon-she'd slip up. She'd snarl instead  of smile. She'd snap instead of laugh. She might even scream.

"You want to talk yet?"

Despite the heat in his eyes, he was giving her another chance to open  up to him. But she was so knotted inside. Too twisted up to talk  anything through right now.

"Not yet." His arms were open and she stepped right into them. "But I need this. I need you."

Thankfully, less than a heartbeat later his mouth crushed hers and he  hauled her up to wrap her legs around his waist. Backing her up to the  counter, he set her down, so thick and hard between her legs that she  whimpered.

He yanked her tank top up, then pushed aside her bra and closed his lips over her nipple.

She writhed against him, holding him tightly in the vee of her thighs.  "Sebastian." There was such need in her voice, such desperation.

"You make me nuts." He kissed her lips, her neck, the hollow of her  throat, while his fingers worked the button and zipper on her jeans.  Faster than should have been possible, her pants and boots hit the  floor, then her panties. He trailed his lips down her body, licking,  tasting, his eyes dark with desire. "I need to taste you." He nipped her  thigh, kissed her belly, circling ever closer. "I need to feel you come  apart and hear you cry out my name."

He covered her with his lips and there was no more talking. There was  just his mouth on her, his fingers inside her. Charlie curled her hand  in his hair, holding him close as he took her. There was such sweetness  in letting him take over, and the moan in her throat becoming a cry of  pure pleasure.

His touch eased all the knots in her stomach, made her forget everything  she was supposed to think about. She could only make little sounds,  leaning back on her hands, opening herself to him. He was gorgeous,  sensual, always needing to please as much as to take his own pleasure.

He held her hips in his hands, forcing her to take everything he had to  give. Sensation spiraled up inside her, deep, into her core. Her stomach  muscles clenched as the first swell of her climax hit. She panted, then  lost it all, falling back on the counter, writhing wildly, crying out  his name in broken syllables through wave after wave of ecstasy.         

     



 

She'd barely come down before he'd rolled on protection and entered her,  so deep, so fast, so exquisitely, that she lost what was left of her  breath. Holding her tightly, melding their bodies, he forced her higher,  pushed her limits. Then he catapulted them over the edge together and  she flung her arms around him, kissing him so deeply she tasted  pleasure. She tasted reckless abandon.

And, most of all, she tasted love.





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE


"Isn't the garden lovely?" Francine sighed blissfully a couple of days later.

Sebastian was seated with her at a café table, having just finished a  lap around the Magnolia Gardens walkways. "There's some nice shade under  this tree."

"Yes, and the breeze truly makes it an idyllic spot."

Francine was radiant. Despite her infirmities, she always looked to the  brighter side of things, even if it was just the weather. Sebastian had  learned a long time ago that there were two ways to consider  life-choosing to see the negative or the positive. Your choice was what  defined you, and Francine was a happy person.

Sebastian tried his best to be happy too. Unfortunately, since working  on the group home in San Jose, his frustration had been building. All  right, it had been building longer than that, for weeks, since Francine  had first brought up Charlie's fall classes. Yet Charlie still wouldn't  talk to him. If he so much as hinted at her decision about teaching this  fall, she completely shut down on him.

For the third time in his life, he had absolutely no idea what to do.  First with his parents. Then with Francine's health. And now with the  woman he loved-and would do absolutely anything for. But she was too  damned independent to let him.

Since their tryst in the shed behind the group home, he'd barely let her  take a breath without having his mouth or his hands on her. Even if she  still wasn't ready to talk to him, he would damn well make sure they  didn't sever any of the threads that connected them. She clearly needed  time to decide she could trust fully in him, and he was forcing himself  to give her that time. He always wanted her, but now more than ever,  making love to her until her limbs were jelly and she was hoarse from  crying out his name seemed the only way to keep their connection strong.

He worked to shove away the frustration as Charlie returned with the  china plates and mugs, one pastry split with her mother and a whole one  for him. Francine truly looked as though she was in heaven as she took a  delicate first bite.

"Oh my dear, I'll never tire of these." She closed her eyes in rapture.  "Your father, God rest his soul, would have gotten fat, wouldn't he,  honey?"

Charlie laughed. "He probably would have."

"So does that mean I'm going to get fat if I eat a whole one every time I come to see you?" Sebastian asked.

Charlie merely smiled at him and said, "You'll work off that bun in no time."

She was right. In fact, he'd already burned plenty of calories in the  shower with her that morning...with more plans for tonight.

The same thought simmered in Charlie's eyes and in her secret, sexy  smile. "Come to think of it, maybe I should start working out more often  too."

Her mother tsked. "You take after me, honey."

"That's why she's so gorgeous," Sebastian said.

"You're such a shameless flatterer," her mother said with a roll of her eyes and a sweet smile.

When the plates were empty, Charlie put her hand on his arm. "Sebastian, I've got a huge favor to ask."

Her tone was surprisingly serious for the mellow day they'd been having.  "Anything for you." They weren't just empty words. It was a promise he  planned to keep until the very end. He needed her to know that.

She stared at him for a long moment before rummaging in her enormous  bag. Then she pulled out a sketchbook. He glanced from the pad to  Charlie's face, his breath tight in his chest. Was she really  blindsiding him?

Guilt flickered across her face. But right behind it was determination.

And love.

"It would be great if you'd sketch Mom." She held out the pad and one of his pencils, her hands the slightest bit shaky.

He stared at her offerings for several beats, a hint of anger swirling  in his gut. No, not anger. Fear. The two emotions could so easily be  mistaken for each other-but if he were totally honest with himself, he'd  have to admit he wasn't angry at Charlie.

He was simply scared.

"Oh, Sebastian." Francine's voice was warm and comforting. "I didn't know you were an artist."

"His drawings are amazing, Mom."         

     



 

They weren't. He'd known it since his father had pointed out every flaw,  every mistake, and laughed at the crap his kid had drawn, throwing all  his sketches into the fire. Knowing Charlie believed in him despite  those flaws was the only thing that kept Sebastian in his chair.

Francine put a hand to her cheek, her fingers bent, her skin mottled  with age spots. "You can't possibly want to draw an old woman like me.  You should draw Charlie, instead."

"I want to see you through Sebastian's eyes, Mom." She touched his arm again, smiling hopefully. "He has very special eyes."

He couldn't possibly decline. There was no choice. Francine needed this  drawing, if only to show her that she was worthy of being seen. And he  was so damn tired of listening to his father's voice. He would not allow  his fears to hurt this lovely woman. He would overcome them, if only  for this moment.

And there was no question about it, Charlie was not only a brilliant  diplomat-she was a master strategist. Especially when her actions came  from pure love. However misguided she was about his talent, she'd never  meant to hurt him.

He finally took the pad and pencil from her. Leaning forward, he pressed  his mouth to hers, letting her know he wasn't angry with her.