I'm Not Your Enemy (Enemies 2)

Now that everything was out there, I wanted to move on and indulge. I allowed myself some pleasure in knowing he’d fought his feelings for me and failed miserably like I had.

“But you couldn’t resist me anyway.” I felt my mouth quirk up.

He smirked softly. “Nope. I guess sometimes you win the war by losing a battle.”

I leaned forward and kissed him hard, letting the truthfulness of those words settle within me. He was right. We’d both lost that battle, but in doing so, we’d won a hell of a lot more.

“You know,” I said, my chest tightening with nerves, “this is an excellent time to confess you’re hopelessly in love with me.”

He exhaled a laugh and spoke as he took charge of the kiss. “I’m hopelessly in love with you.”

“That’s fuckin’ cheesy, Wilder.” I shivered at the sensual feel of his lips, and I was torn by the amused route I’d initially planned to take and the heady path he led us down in the end. Was he just parroting me or did he mean it?

It was so noticeable whenever he commandeered an occasion. Like a flip of a switch, my mind sought out his and submitted to his will. I wanted to melt into him and seek solace.

“Tell me you mean it, please.”

“I mean it, baby,” he murmured. “I love you.”

I exhaled and dove headfirst into the sea of relief and, for once, utter fucking certainty that this was it. “Me too. I love you.”

“Good,” he whispered and smiled into the kiss. “I’m keeping you on a mental leash today. You’re gonna worship my cock when we get home tonight until there’s no doubt that you wanna spend the rest of your life with me.”

Fuck me.

True to his word, he kept his fingers in my brain all day. He made it less nerve-racking for me to meet his family, but he was a little too good at flashing me sinful smirks that promised filthy things. Focusing on Sebastian so much almost made me miss the fact that his grandfather was a hilarious old man.

I was already a fan of the main house too. It was modest and cozy, farm life met mountain cabin, and its interior hadn’t changed much in the past forty or fifty years.

Sebastian’s sister was a typical city gal—well, that was my first impression, judging by how she spoke, carried herself, and the nice clothes and makeup she wore. But that changed when I got to see her in the kitchen. She clearly adored taking care of Sebastian and their pops, and she bossed them around much like Soph and Melissa could do with David and me on holidays. There was nothing to be nervous about. I was thrown into their Thanksgiving atmosphere without any changes being made. Nothing more, nothing less. It fit me perfectly.

“Mattis, I swear! Stop riling him up.” Marlene shooed her eldest boy away from the kitchen. Mattis ducked out with a mischievous grin I remembered pretty well from when I was nine.

In the meantime, Sebastian swooped up a six-year-old and sat down with him at the table. “Brothers are the worst, aren’t they?”

“Yes!” Casper and Marlene exclaimed in unison. Marlene continued as she checked the turkey in the oven, which smelled fucking fantastic. “Sweetie, remind Pop-Pop he was going to tell you another story of what a terror Uncle Sebastian was to me when we were kids.”

Mr. Wilder chuckled gruffly and shook his head. He sat closest to the window and was cleaning his pipe, as one did.

“It was the other way around,” Sebastian drawled. Then he whispered something to Casper, who let out a loud laugh.

I could probably watch Sebastian and their family dynamic for hours. It was so instantly inviting and casual. And a big bonus—Sebastian Wilder in a black button-down that hugged his body impeccably. It added to the wicked glint in his green eyes.

“Go sit down, Blake,” Marlene urged me. “And maybe teach my brother that he can actually lose the jeans for one night and go with nice slacks.”

I grinned. Funnily enough, I’d mentioned it earlier, but Sebastian had waved it off. He said he wasn’t gonna waste his slacks—or dress pants, more accurately—on a dinner that would undoubtedly end with him helping his grandfather with something around the house. In which case, his clothes would get dirty anyway.

“All right. You sure you don’t want any help?” I asked.

“Positive.”

So I joined Sebastian at the table and sat down next to him.

He and Casper were discussing what they were going to express thanks for before dinner. Casper was very thankful for his new phone. Sebastian was thankful he didn’t have to watch football this Thanksgiving.

I side-eyed him.

Since we hadn’t watched the game today, he’d promised to tag along on Saturday when we faced Georgia Tech. If he tried to back out, he’d be sorry.