Page 67 of Hate To Be Mine

I opened my eyes and realized I was draped across Sebastian’s chest, my head tucked under his chin, one arm thrown over his torso, our legs tangled together.

Oh.

Oh no.

This was not maintaining professional distance. This was the opposite of professional distance.

I should move. Should scoot back to my side of the bed and pretend I didn’t climb on top of him in what was probably an erotic dream I couldn’t remember.

Dammit.

I should definitely not be noticing how good it felt to be draped on him like I was the blanket. I could feel the heat of him through the fabric of his cotton tee. And clearly I wasn’t the only one seeking the connection because his arm was wrapped around me. He was holding me in place. Maybe he pulled me on top of him. I liked that idea better. I didn’t want to have to admit I was the one to initiate the contact.

I couldn’t resist taking a little peek. I wanted to know what a sleeping Sebastian looked like. I wanted to see him when he wasn’t trying to be the guy he presented to the world. And I knew he wore a mask every waking minute. I understood it. Especially after his little outburst in the pool. He pretended not to care about anything. Pretended he was some vapid, hard body with no cares in the world.

I knew better.

I ever so slowly pulled my head back and turned with my chin resting on his chest. His face was relaxed, peaceful, looking younger without the cocky smile or the careful charm. Just Sebastian, unconscious and vulnerable and holding me like I was his favorite snuggly.

I let myself have the moment. Just for a few minutes. I let myself pretend he was mine and I had every right to stare at him and think about waking him up with my mouth on him. I inhaled the scent of him. I allowed myself a precious few moments to appreciate what it felt like to wake up in someone’s arms instead of alone in my sterile apartment.

It felt good. Too good. Which was terrifying.

Because I knew it wasn’t real. We’d known each other less than a week. We’d slept together once and then immediately agreed it was a mistake. We were from completely different worlds. This was just, what? A vacation fling? A moment of insanity on a tropical island that I’d look back on with embarrassment once I was back in my real life?

Except it didn’t feel like a fling. It felt like something that could matter. Something that could hurt when it ended.

And it would end. That was inevitable.

But he called me Little Bee.

Why did that matter?

It was silly and probably a bit of insult, but it felt good. I was going to ask him why he called me that later, but it didn’t hurt to pretend it was a term of endearment for a little while.

Sebastian stirred beneath me, his arm tightening around me slightly before he started to wake. I quickly scooted away, rolling to my side of the bed and making a show of rubbing my eyes like I’d just woken up.

“Oh man,” I said, stretching. “I can’t believe we fell asleep like that.”

He blinked at me, still half-asleep, his hair adorably mussed. “Mmm. What time is it?”

I checked my phone. “Six-thirty.”

“Shit.” He sat up, running his hands through his hair. “We should get moving if we want to scout that location before the regular shoot starts.”

Part of me had been hoping he’d roll over and kiss me. Pull me back against him. Turn this into the kind of morning that involved significantly less clothing and a lot more touching. I wanted him. Yep. There it was. The cold, ugly truth. I wanted him to climb on top of me and have his way with me. I wanted a screaming orgasm, and not the alcoholic drink of the same name. I wanted sex on the beach. Damn. Did I want to get laid or drunk?

But there would be no morning delight. He was already getting out of bed, talking about the schedule for the day.

It wasn’t as good as sex with him would have been. But I was excited anyway. I was looking forward to spending the morning exploring different parts of the island together. We wouldn’t be alone, but still, it felt like a date. And I would take whatever I could get.

“I’ll go change,” I said, sliding out of bed. “Meet you in twenty minutes?”

“Perfect.”

I went back to my bungalow, trying to ignore Annika’s knowing look when I walked in. I changed into practical clothes for exploring. Some cute shorts, one of the Blackwell Couture tank tops because apparently even tanks could be couture. My sturdy sandals weren’t sexy, but breaking an ankle was even less sexy. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and put on a little moisturizer.

When I met Sebastian, he was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt with a backpack slung over one shoulder and his phone in hand, already pulling up maps.