Closing her eyes, she did as he asked. He slipped a long finger inside of her sex, finding her shamelessly wet. “If you don’t want this, tell me now.”
“I want this. You,” she said, her voice trembling. She trembled, but not in fear. This was how she always wanted to Glen to be with her. Demanding, yet concerned for her pleasure. Sebastian’s thumb pressed against her swollen clit and she moaned. His finger left her and she began to protest, until she heard the rough slide of his zipper, then the silken nudge of his c**k as he bent his knees.
“Took my piercing out earlier, so…” The head of him entered her and he flexed his hips, driving deep. She cried out in pleasure.
“Wait…we don’t have—”
“Don’t need it.”
She gasped. “I’m—”
“Yes.” He dragged his lips across her throat and slid the smallest of distances inside of her. She grew wetter and groaned. He nipped at her chin. “Yes, you are. Two results, same answer.”
“Are you hap—”
“I’m bloody terrified.” He cupped a breast, thumb brushing a hard nipple. “You?”
She arched her throat and he nibbled his way up, finding the sensitive spot just below her ear. “I’m happy and scared…and you’re making it impossible for me to think straight right now.”
“Talk. Later.”
No further words were needed. He grasped her hips, digging his fingers in. If anyone came down this hallway, they would get an eyeful, but she didn’t care.
A delicious friction built up with every thrust. Her entire being centered on where they were joined. Flesh to flesh, their clothes separating them. Tension built. Desire flamed high. She wrapped her arms around him, holding on for dear life.
Her body burst into flames, tension snapped inside of her, giving way to wave after wave of pleasure. He surged against her, his body growing taut as he growled her name.
“I love you, Bastian,” she whispered as the tension left him and the room. “Now tell me your real name.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sebastian could barely drag in enough air, he was panting so hard. Anger and desire had merged together, taking over his body and—
“I love you, Bastian,” Daisy whispered. “Now tell me your real name.”
“You love me?” he asked, leaning back slightly to look at her. She gave him a tremulous smile. “Yes.”
This required his entire brain, not just the one he’d been thinking with when he’d ripped off her panties. He let himself slip out of her and readjusted his clothes. “Even after all the lies and what I said earlier about conquer—”
She placed a finger against his lips. “Even after all of that.”
He kissed the tip of her finger before she gently pushed it away. “Tell me your real name.”
“Sebastian Julian Westmoreland Romanov. Jules is short for Julian. I’m named for my mother’s father, the Duke of Everham.” He gave her a wry smile.
“So you gave me part of the truth.”
“Yes.” Brushing back her dark hair, he took her hand, lacing their fingers together. “But I meant every word of every email, every text, every chat…those were me, Daisy.”
Truth colored his words, bright and bold.
She smiled. “Let’s go home, Sebastian.”
“You haven’t any shoes on,” he pointed out.
“Oh. Can we stay here or will you get Ivan to pick us up?” she asked.
Taking her hand in his, he steered her down the hallway and to the right, stopping at a bathroom along the way. “I’d rather not stay here. My memories of this place growing up weren’t the best,” he said through the cracked open door while she cleaned up.
Opening the door, she stepped out and gazed at him, happiness radiating from her.
The color in her face was nearly back to normal, though he knew the blush in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes had been put there by him. She’d fixed her hair, piling it into a large bun on top of her head, streams of multi-colored tips sticking out every which way.
She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“What about now?” she asked, her head tilting to one side.
“Now?”
“After…” She glanced down the hall, in the direction they had traveled only seconds ago.
“Oh? Yes, well, that certainly—” He flushed and bit his lip, running a hand through his hair.
She stared at him in bemusement.
Yes, he, the Earl of Spenserfield, the former president of Romanov Industries, was actually blushing over sex. But it wasn’t over sex. It was over the connection that flowed between them, the love in her eyes, and his baby inside of her. Dipping his head, his peered at her through his lashes, unable to quite meet her eyes.
Gently taking his chin in her hand, she tipped it up. “Never be embarrassed with me, Sebastian.”
“I lo—not here,” he quickly amended. No way he’d tell her here. They needed to be at home, at The Rectory. Safe, dry, and warm while tucked into bed.
Quickly navigating a maze of hallways, they soon arrived in a tastefully decorated room, much like the one in his London home. She paused at the fireplace.
Above the mantle hung a portrait of Vladimir, Lady Francesca, and two young boys—one small and frail looking, the other strong and tall.
“Who’s who?” she asked, head back as she stared at the painting.
“I’m the one on the right. My mother always complained I’d stolen Christian’s good health and her figure when we were little.”
Daisy glanced back at him. “One twin is always bigger than the other and a lot of times healthier, too. You had no control over that. As for the other…she can get over herself.”
“I’ll be sure to convey your message to her,” he said, amused and grateful for her defense.
“Why did you leave at seventeen?”
He almost lied to her. He almost told her that he’d left because he’d wanted to travel the world during his Gap Year, but he couldn’t. “I found out that my title, this house, this estate…my past and my future had been bought from the rightful heirs.”
Turning, she gazed up at him. “I saw a show once where the winner won an English title.”
“Not the same.” He took a deep breath. “My father paid off the rightful Earl of Spenserfield and took his place. The title and the estate had been sitting here, rotting.”