Sebastian: What time do you go to lunch? Maybe I can swing by and take you out and you can tell me about that dream.
Sadie: That sounds great. Except . . .
My shoulders slumped waiting for what would come after the word “except.” I assumed it would be something like “except . . . I can’t because I have too much work to do.” Or . . . “except I have a meeting.” But the next text perked me up . . . some parts might’ve gotten more perky than others.
Sadie: How about you meet me at my apartment at 2, and I do better than tell you about my dream. We can act it out . . .
Fuck yeah. I couldn’t type back fast enough.
Sebastian: I’ll be out front of your building at 1:45.
Sadie: LOL. I like your eagerness, Mr. Maxwell.
Sebastian: Oh, I’m eager, alright. You should see what’s going on in my pants already . . . with more than five hours to go before I arrive.
Sadie: You could . . . show me what’s going on.
All the blood from my brain had rushed south with better shit to do than support logical decisions. So of course, it sounded like a damn good idea to oblige. Reaching down, I fisted my hard-on through my sweatpants, then snapped a pic and sent it in response to her text. Maybe it was the angle, but my cock looked pretty damn impressive, if I did say so myself.
Sadie wasted no time responding.
Sadie: OMG. Lunch looks delicious! I can’t wait. Let’s make it 1pm, instead of 2!
I laughed.
Sebastian: See you at 1, beautiful. Can’t wait.CHAPTER 22
SADIE
“I love this little dip.”
Sebastian ran his finger up and down the arch between my lower back and the top of my ass as I lay on my stomach. We’d just ravaged each other, yet the slightest touch of his finger on my back had me already wanting him again.
“Oh yeah?”
He nodded. “Would it be too much if I poured the soup I brought with lunch and drank it out of there?”
I laughed. “Well, it might be hot, and I don’t think you would be drinking it out of the dip in my back, more like lapping like a dog.”
“Sweetheart, that soup is ice-cold by now. And lapping at you sounds absolutely fucking perfect.”
He was definitely right about the soup not being hot anymore. Now I was glad that I’d told my office I needed to take a half day for a fake doctor’s appointment. We’d been at it for close to two hours already, and the Chinese food that Sebastian had brought hadn’t even made it out of the bag.
As if that thought reminded my body that it had skipped breakfast, my stomach growled . . . loudly.
Sebastian chuckled. “I guess that’s one way of you telling me I should feed you.”
“I’m actually starving. I usually eat a bar in the morning on the train, but some guy bumped into me and it fell on the floor after one bite.”
“Why don’t I go heat the food up, then?”
“Okay.”
Sebastian got out of bed. He bent to grab his jeans, giving me a spectacular view of his very taut ass.
“Wait!”
He froze with one leg in the pants and turned to look at me.
“Don’t get dressed,” I said.
He flashed a crooked smile. “You want to eat naked?”
“Yeah. I do. Would it gross you out if I said I wanted to eat naked in bed with you?”
Sebastian chuckled. “No. But it might make me propose.”
He kicked back off the pants leg and strutted out to the kitchen buck naked.
What a view. I sighed. Feeling content, I adjusted the blankets and pillows to sit up against the headboard.
A few minutes later, Sebastian returned with three containers and two sets of chopsticks. He climbed back into bed and passed me one of the cartons, then unwrapped the wooden chopsticks and snapped them apart before offering them to me.
“Thank you.”
His eye dropped down to my exposed breasts and he shook his head. “Best fucking lunch ever.”
I stuffed my face with Szechuan shrimp. “Mm. This is good. Where did you get it?”
“This little takeout place two blocks from me.”
“I’m very picky about Chinese food. It’s probably because I’m part Chinese.”
Sebastian was midswallow and started to cough. “You’re Chinese?”
“Four percent. I did one of those 23andMe DNA tests to find out my heritage two years ago, since I’m adopted. I’m sixty percent Italian, thirty-six percent Norwegian, and four percent Chinese. Ever since I found that out, I feel like I got better with chopsticks.”
He laughed. “Interesting. My daughter is obsessed with those damn commercials ever since she made a family tree at school.”
“I totally forgot about that! She told Santa she wanted one of those in her early letters.”
Sebastian shook his head.
“What about you? What nationality are you?”