Play Me Right (Play Me 5)

“You shouldn’t have to speak to them again, shouldn’t have to have anything to do with them—“

“I need to see Lucy—”

“I know a lot of really good lawyers, Aria. Lucy doesn’t have to stay with those bastards any more than you do.”

“But I can’t afford—”

“Are you kidding me?” he demands, pushing me away just far enough that he can look in my eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me with that?”

“I know you want to help. I get that. And it means more to me than I can ever tell you, but there’s no way I can let you make yourself a target like that. My father would kill you if you tried to interfere with his family—”

“Your father is welcome to try. But he needs to understand that you’re not his family anymore. You’re mine. And unlike him, I protect what belongs to me.”

My breath catches in my throat at the possessiveness of his tone. At the certainty that I am his. “I don’t belong to anyone. Not now, not ever again.”

Sebastian swoops down and kisses me, and it’s the most thrilling kiss I’ve ever had. Hard yet soft, demanding yet giving, burning hot yet so sweet it literally takes my breath away. When he finally pulls back my knees are weak and my heart is beating so fast that I can barely catch my breath.

“You belong to me, Aria,” he tells me and he’s never looked more serious. More determined. “Just like I belong to you. This isn’t about control, isn’t about anything but the fact that I love you and—”

“What did you say?” I demand, certain that I’ve heard him wrong. Certain that he didn’t just say what I thought he did.

“I said I love you. And I want to spend every day for the rest of my life proving it. I want to cherish you like you deserve, Aria. To give you all the things Carlo was too fucking stupid to.”

I don’t answer for long seconds—I can’t. My throat is thick with unshed tears and shock and I don’t want to be crying the first time I tell Sebastian that I love him.

So instead of answering his declaration with one of my own, I tangle my hands in his hair and tell him, “Say it again.”

He looks a little alarmed. “Which part?”

“The part where you told me you love me.”

“That’s easy. I love you, Aria, and I want—”

“That’s enough.” I clap my hand over his mouth. “That’s more than enough. Because I love you, too. And I want to spend the rest of my life taking care of you, too.”

He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. Even manages a smile. “Thank God, Aria. Thank God.”

And then I’m in his arms and he’s kissing me and I’m kissing him and nothing else matters. Not the past, not the future. Not the pain we’ve caused each other nor the pleasure that is to come. In those seconds, wrapped in each other’s arms with the Strip lit up and spread below us at our feet, everything is perfect.

It’s minutes—or maybe hours—before we come up for air. When we do, Sebastian walks over to the bar and pops a celebratory bottle of champagne. But when he goes to hand me a glass, he looks a million miles away.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask, after pressing a soft kiss to his mouth to regain his attention. He hesitates, and I can tell he’s trying to figure out if he wants to tell me the truth. But I don’t want lies between us, no matter how small. My whole life has been filled with secrets, with things we just didn’t talk about. That’s not the kind of life I want to build with Sebastian.

I tell him so and he nods, sets his glass of champagne to the side. Then does the same to mine. It’s only when he has my hands tight in his that he finally answers.

“I was thinking about Dylan. About how he never had the chance to fall in love with a woman. How he never had the chance to build a life for himself away from all the darkness.”

It hurts me to see him look so sad, so lost. Sebastian always knows what he’s doing, always knows what he wants. Seeing him look so uncertain hurts me in a way even my parents’ neglect couldn’t.

“What happened to Dylan wasn’t your fault.” It’s not the first time I’ve said it to him and I’m pretty sure it won’t be the last. But that’s okay. I’ll keep saying it until it gets through. Until he believes me.

“What happened to James isn’t your fault, either.”

My eyes meet his and I want to argue with him, want to tell him that it was totally my fault. That I should have known better than to think Carlo would understand. Should have known better than to think it could turn out all right.

But as I stare into Sebastian’s eyes, I finally understand the truth of his own guilt. Just like I understand that the best way to help him is to let go of my own feelings of culpability. It’s not easy, not something I ever thought I’d be able to do. But for Sebastian…for Sebastian, I think I’d do just about anything. Even this.

“Maybe we could do something,” I tell him.