Pretend We're Over (Pretend 2)

“There’s no rush, just want to make sure you’re okay,” Sebastian says through the door.

I smile. It’s been two hours since we decided on this plan. I’ve never spent this long getting ready before. I’ve also never looked hotter. Every inch of me has been shaved or waxed. My hair has never been this curled. My makeup is flawless. The dress is one of Oaklee’s she slipped into my suitcase somehow. It fits too tightly, but that only makes it more perfect. I stand in the heels full of confidence. Tonight I won’t stumble, I won’t fall, I won’t make a fool of myself. Tonight is going to be perfect.

I take my time walking to the door, for one to ensure that I don’t stumble, and two because Sebastian’s voice sounded just a little nervous, a little needy, and a little greedy. I like Sebastian King a little off-kilter.

I open the bathroom door. Sebastian is standing in the opening with a bouquet of exotic flowers in his hands. I don’t notice his reaction right away because I’m too busy drooling at how well he wears a suit. I remember back to the wedding, how well his tux fit him then.

But this is one of his own suits, and it looks like it’s been glued to his biceps, his stomach, his thick thighs. His hair is styled but not overly so. His beard has been

shaved into perfect stubble. The only part of him that isn’t completely perfect is the cast around his ankle and the crutches leaning against the wall behind him.

Finally, I notice his reaction, and it’s nothing like I expected. I can’t read him. It’s like he’s gone into shock or something. His expression is blank. His eyes are blank. His mouth doesn’t drop open like I expected. He doesn’t even move to hand me the flowers.

“Sebastian? Are you okay?” I try to hide my worry, but I can’t. Not after everything we’ve gone through together. He could be having a heart attack or something for all I know.

He exhales and comes to life in a split second. “No, I’m not okay, but it has nothing to do with a stroke or whatever you must be thinking. It has to do with how incredibly beautiful you are, Mrs. King. How hard it’s going to be to sit through an entire meal with you and not be able to touch you like I want.”

I grin, pulling my bottom lip into my mouth. I don’t think he could have said more perfect words to me.

“We don’t have to go to dinner,” I say.

He steps forward, not at all hobbling on his ankle that must throb every time he puts any weight on it. But the way his eyes shine as he watches me tells me he doesn’t feel any pain. The only pain he feels is in having to wait to have me.

He holds out the flowers to me, and I take them, inhaling a deep floral breath.

“Yes, we do have to go to dinner.” He reaches out and strokes the side of my face with his knuckles. “You’re going to need your strength for what I have planned for you.”

My eyes darken, and I have an insatiable ache between my legs. “I thought you only fucked women once?”

He shakes his head. “I said one night, not one fuck.”

I suck in a shaky breath. No, I will not let him affect me. I will not let him make me nervous.

“Are you ready, Mrs. King?”

I nod. “Yes, Mr. King. The sooner we go to dinner, the sooner we can come back…” I let my hand trail down my chest, and he watches.

“Jesus, you’re mean,” he growls into my ear.

“You’re the one who insists on dinner.”

He clears his throat and then holds out his arm like a gentleman. I hook my arm through his, thankful to have his arm keeping me on my feet as I walk in heels for the first time in years. Sebastian is steady on his feet even though one is in a cast.

“You sure you don’t need your crutches?”

“I’m sure.”

Sebastian deposits the flowers in a vase he’s already prepared, and then we are walking out of the room toward dinner. The anticipation is killing me; I can’t wait until we walk back into the room after dinner.

It’s only for one night. I have to remember that, because if I don’t, I’m going to let Sebastian ruin me. I’m going to let him take my heart, and that can’t happen.

Maybe it will help me remember what happened that night. Sebastian seems to think us getting married was my idea, but if he knew my past at all, he’d know that is the last thing I would ever suggest to anyone.

We head into the empty elevator, and Sebastian hits the button for one floor up where the restaurant sits.

Nervous tension fills the small space as the doors close. Every nerve in my body is shooting off, begging to be touched, begging to go back to the hotel room and fuck. Dinner is going to be a struggle unless I get a little taste first.

“Kiss me,” I say.