Page 35 of After Midnight

As the song thrums through my speakers, reaching into my chest and squeezing, I slip one hand between my knees, up the length of my bare thigh, to the aching spot I wish Sebastian had touched. My fingers slip the thin black fabric aside, and I gasp as I touch myself, spreading the wetness from my pussy up to my clit.

I think of him, even as I tell myself I shouldn’t. As I sink one finger inside myself, I imagine it’s his. Then I add another, pressing my fingers deeper, legs starting to tremble as I kneel on the hard floor, wondering what it would feel like if he were behind me, hands on my hips, cock pumping into my wet cunt.

Pressure starts to build low in my stomach. I drag my fingers out of my pussy and up to my aching clit.

Why didn’t he touch me? And why do I wish so badly that he did? Why did I love and hate that he didn’t invite me to his room? It makes no sense.

Biting my lip, I savor the pain from where he nipped me, where his teeth sunk into my soft flesh, holding me captive against his mouth. I circle my swollen clit and moan, then rub it harder, faster, heart racing inside my chest.

And just when I’m about to cum, I thrust two fingers into my pussy and pretend it’s him. I spread my legs wider and grind against my hand, wishing he were beneath me on this floor right now, his body naked and gleaming with sweat, the candlelight dancing over us both.

An orgasm crashes through me, making my muscles spasm and my breath hitch. Warmth drips down one of my thighs as I continue to finger myself, making a slow trail toward my knee.

And as soon as the throbbing release passes, I’m left there on the floor, alone, with moisture in my eyes.

I haven’t wanted anyone in a long time—haven’t allowed myself to want anyone—and already, the fear is creeping in, making me question and doubt and worry. Because wanting someone means letting them in, letting them see what’s under your armor. And I’m an expert at keeping myself well protected, at always wearing my mask, never letting anyone know what’s actually going on beneath my stage smile.

But tonight, collapsed on the floor, with slick heat still coating my fingers, I know my armor is already starting to crack, and Sebastian is the one loosening the pieces, even if he doesn’t know it yet. His smiles, that boyish laughter, his self-deprecating humor. There’s something so real about it—nothing practiced or forced or performed—and maintaining the mask is that much harder because of it.

Real is scary. Because real can hurt.

And I don’t do hurt.

But I don’t want to walk away either. And that’s what scares me most.

chapter 17

Sebastian

IT’S FRIDAY NIGHT, AND I’M barefoot on the deck, grilling up burgers—plant-based ones, for my girl Nora—sipping a cold beer from a sweating bottle. Hippie Sabotage plays low over the speakers in my living room, the music slipping out through the open sliding glass door. In the distance, the sunset paints the ocean in hues of pink and gold, and a breeze twines through the palms along one side of my house, making their huge long leaves rustle and sway.

I flip the burgers on the grill and take another sip from my bottle. As I hum along to the song, behind me, there’s the sudden sound of dog nails scrabbling on hardwood.

I’m smiling before I even turn around.

A golden retriever comes barreling through the open door onto the deck, and I put my beer down to bend over and ruffle her silky ears. “Hey, Nala girl.” Then I’m surprised when another dog—a blue-gray pitbull—appears in the doorway, tail wagging, but looking a bit hesitant. I kneel down next to Nala and hold my hand out to the other dog. “And who’re you?”

Nora appears behind the dog, holding a tray of what look like cookies. “This is River,” she says, smiling down at the pitty. “We adopted her from Jordan’s rescue.”

“No way! That’s awesome. Congrats.”

While I’m distracted, Nala licks the side of my face, making me pull away and laugh.

I push to my feet and meet Nora at the big outdoor dining table. After she puts the tray of cookies down, she holds her arms out, and I pull her into a hug.

“What’re you making?” she asks, peering around me toward the grill.

“Beyond Burgers,” I say. “Just for you.”

She grins up at me. “Thanks, Seb.”

There’re footsteps through the house, and Dex, Jordan, and Michael step out onto the porch. I greet them, shaking Michael’s and Dex’s hands, then tugging Jordan in for a hug.

“Lucas and Alisha aren’t here yet?” she asks.

I shake my head. “Nope. Not yet.”

Jordan gets a weird look on her face.