A Million Different Ways (Horn Duet 1)
His eyes flared. I watched my words sink in, watched his expression transform from tortured to thoughtful. I had succeeded in reaching his intellect, cutting through the smothering blanket of pain. He wrapped his arms around me, binding us together tightly skin to skin, and hid his face in the curve of my neck. “Don’t ever leave me, Vera.”
I swallowed the angst rising up my throat because I couldn’t tell him what we both wanted to hear––and I wouldn’t make promises I couldn’t keep.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Unexpectedly, something wonderful happened the next day. I received a letter from one of the hospitals in Geneva informing me that interviews for their residency programs would begin in December and that I had been scheduled in.
My heart almost exploded with joy. I read and reread it several times to reassure myself that I wasn’t imagining it. The first thought that came to mind was that I couldn’t wait to tell Sebastian. This was awful. I was slipping and sliding deeper and deeper into love and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. Except…make sure that he didn’t know. That was the only way my heart would survive the aftermath of having to let him go.
“I have news.” I leaned forward while he squirted soap on his hands and cleaned my back with languid, sensual strokes, rubbing the sore muscles of my shoulders.
It was midnight. He had insisted we take a bath after gifting me with not one, but two excruciating climaxes; each time drawing the pleasure out, prolonging it until I was begging him for relief. I wasn’t sure if it was the begging he wanted from me, or something else. Something drove him–– something he hadn’t gotten yet.
“Is it good?” His voice was low, husky. He kissed the top of my spine, nibbled on my earlobe, making me shiver and want him again. For heaven’s sake…I was no expert but it just didn’t seem normal. My head fell forward and water splashed up as he rinsed my back.
“Don’t get your dressing wet,” I ordered. Although the effect was ruined by my panty, breathy voice.
“Yes ma’am, what’s the news?” His wicked hand snaked around to the front of my body, inside my thigh, up to…
“I can’t speak when you do that. I can barely think after what you did an hour ago.”
“Hmm, is that a bad thing?”
“No. Yes. I mean…do you see what I mean?”
His gentle massage had moved on to my eager breasts. I could feel his shaft getting hard against my rear end, and any blood left in my head swiftly traveled below my waist. “Oh my God,” I gasped. “How is this even possible?”
“Let me get this straight, you don’t want to want me?” His voice was steady, and yet there was a hint of something wounded in it.
“I couldn’t stop wanting you if my life depended on it.” I felt his satisfied smile on my skin as he kissed my shoulder. “Sebastian, has this ever happened to you before?”
He answered without hesitation, “No.”
“Me neither.” I sank back against his chest and his arms wrapped around me protectively, both of us quiet for a while, absorbing the enormity of that truth. “I received a letter from one of the hospitals today. I have an interview for their residency program in December.”
He guided my chin around to face him. His eyes were bright and happy for me. Sweet, beautiful man. “That’s great news. François can drive you in.”
Huh? My brows lowered over my questioning gaze. “Drive me? How do you know it’s not in Zurich?” Something flared in his eyes. “Did you have anything to do with this?” He blew out a deep breath and looked away from me. “Look at me,” I ordered softly.
“Okay, I put in a good word. That’s all.”
I was stunned, angry, and grateful at the same time––a strange mix of emotions that left me feeling awkward. “I guess I should thank you.”
“You don’t look like you mean it.”
The water was suddenly cold. I stood up, dripping into the tub in front of him while he looked up at me with supplicating eyes. He ran his hand around my calf, caressing it; the only place left on my body that was warm. His hand slipped away as I stepped out and wrapped myself in one of his decadently luxurious white towels.
“Vera, don’t be mad.”
When I turned towards him, I found him standing in the tub, water sliding down the utter physical perfection of his body, and almost got distracted. Almost. Stepping out of the tub, he grabbed a towel and began drying his hair…his hair. He stood there deliciously dripping wet…drying his hair. The shameless sex god knew the effect he had on me and was prepared to use every weapon in his arsenal.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I know what you’re doing,” I warned, punctuating the seriousness of the situation with a raised eyebrow. He continued to towel dry his hair while he inched his way closer to me.