Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
I cared about this woman. It wasn’t just sex, even if it was. “You’re my friend. I don’t want to get up and leave like you mean nothing to me, even if this is only a onetime thing.”
Lily dropped her gaze. I could see her swallow hard either against words or emotion. Or both.
“Sawyer?”
She nodded and relaxed against me, pressing her cheek to my chest.
I sighed with relief, caressing my hand over the magical exaggerated slope of her waist.
We lay in silence for a while and I desperately fought the indignation and rage churning in my gut as each second passed, taking me slowly away from her.
“Happy New Year, Sebastian.”
I squeezed my eyes closed, the ache in my chest intensifying. “Happy New Year, Lily.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
LILY
It might have been ten or twenty minutes that passed as we lay in my bed. I wasn’t quite sure. I just knew that I dreaded each minute that moved us further into the new year.
Finally, Sebastian let out a ragged breath, pressed a kiss to my forehead, and gently moved out of my arms. “Stay in bed,” he told me quietly.
Reaching for the duvet, I pulled it over my naked body as Sebastian got up to deal with the condom. He grabbed the wastepaper basket and disappeared out of the room, presumably to dispose of them properly. When he returned, he put his clothes back on. We watched each other as he dressed until he sat on the end of the bed to tie his shoes. I waited as he finished and stared at my open bedroom door out into the hall.
“We’re still friends, aren’t we?” he asked dully.
Part of me still wanted to rage at him. To ask how he could not want to explore what was between us after that. Then again, he’d had more sex than me and maybe it was normal for sex to be this good for him. He was a very generous lover.
The thought of his head buried between some other woman’s thighs nauseated me.
My promise to remain his friend nauseated me.
I’d let blinding passion guide me tonight. It had overtaken my rationale and allowed me to talk myself into something I knew I’d regret.
I wanted to hate Sebastian for not being willing to give me more.
But he’d been honest about what this would be for him.
Scratching an itch.
His itch had clearly been scratched.
Mine had turned into an open, bleeding wound.
“Aye,” I muttered. “Friends.”
Sebastian turned his head to look down at me. A sad smile curved his mouth upward. “I suppose kissing you goodbye wouldn’t be very friend-like?”
Maybe his itch wasn’t scratched.
Maybe I was right all along.
He wouldn’t explore what was between us out of penance.
Shoving down my growing anger, I shook my head. “Better not. Goodbye, Sebastian.”
His nostrils flared as he stood. “Good night, Sawyer.”
When my flat door snicked shut with the automatic lock behind him a few seconds later, I let the tears burning my nose free. I cried silently for a while until realization hit.
I shouldn’t have agreed to stay friends.
This was going to be agonizing.
A sob burst out of me like an animal’s wail, and I cried until my nose was stuffed up and my head throbbed.
Eventually, I eased out of bed to shower. To scrub the smell of Sebastian Thorne off every inch of me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
SEBASTIAN
One Month Later
Stepping down from the ladder and away from the painting, I cracked my neck.
It was my largest piece yet.
Edinburgh skyline in the rain. With the impression of a gorgeous brunette’s head and upper body peeking through the image.
She’d jumped from my mind onto the canvas without true intention or thought.
All instinct.
The brunette was Lily. If you knew her well enough, you’d recognize the curve of her profile.
I scrubbed a paint-splattered hand over my face, feeling the scruff of a short beard scratch my palm.
Every inch of me ached and it wasn’t because I’d holed myself up in my studio for weeks. I’d barely been back to my flat since returning in the early hours of New Year’s Day to find Candice leaving Zac’s bedroom.
“I had sex with your friend,” she’d told me with a sneer.
Too devastated about Lily to care, I gestured lazily at the door for Candice to leave. She’d given me the middle finger and stormed out.
Truthfully, I had treated her rather poorly. Leading her on and abandoning her to go sleep with another woman.
Not just any woman, though.
I rubbed my chest where it ached unbearably at the thought of Lily.
A look at my phone told me it was February 2.
It had been a month.
A month without Lily had left me grief-stricken. I’d missed classes and was barely keeping up with my coursework and dissertation. My advisor called me into give me a “tough love” speech yesterday. The lads were irritated with me, calling me a mopey bastard, and the only place that offered escape was my studio. My art.