Page 77 of Your Pace Or Mine

“Right, right.” He shakes his head like he’s lost.

I throw him a bone. “I think how it works is you start slowly, going on dates, spending time together. And yes, that means time that’s not spent in bed,” I add when his signature smirk makes an appearance. “We would figure out how it looks when we intertwine our lives bit by bit, and go from there.”

He smiles shyly. “I think I can work with that.”

I want to shout yes! and jump onto his lap right here in this kitchen, but something holds me back. I can still picture the way he steeled his expression and told me we were just having fun. “Moving forward with a relationship sounds great, but I don’t know, Bash. How can I trust you won’t shut down the next time you get scared?”

He slumps onto the table and puts his face in his hands. “Honestly, I don’t know. I can’t promise I won’t get spooked again, but I can say that the idea of never being with you again was much scarier than commitment ever was. I fucked up so badly, Ash. I was terrified of messing up your life if I opened that door, but then I made things worse by shutting it.”

It’s hard to say exactly what wins me over. Maybe it’s the genuine pain in his voice or his sniffs as he tries not to cry. I’ve never seen Sebastian this broken, and that’s what convinces me he means it and he genuinely wants to try.

I reach out and take his hand this time. “If we do this, you have to promise we’ll be honest. All the time, even when it hurts or when it’s terrifying. If something spooks you, tell me and we’ll work through it. You shut me out one more time, and we’re done. I won’t let you keep hurting me.”

“Okay,” he replies, his voice thick with emotion. “I promise. You can tell me anything too, Ash. Let me know when I’m closing you out or being too much of a lone wolf. It’s a lot to unlearn.”

“I will.” We sit without speaking for a while, holding hands, until I can’t help myself. “Say it again, Sebastian.”

He gives me a small smile. How is he so beautiful when he was a complete mess only a minute ago? “I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you, Ashley.”

“I love you too, Bash.”

I lean in and kiss him gently. I plan to keep doing this for a long time, but he pulls away and asks, blinking, “Should I open the microwave? It’s been beeping for ages.”

“Oh yeah, that.” I jump up and grab a fork from the drawer. “I forgot you were hungry.”

He comes up behind me as I pull out the lasagna and wraps his arms around my waist.

“I’m not that hungry,” he murmurs into the curve of my neck, making goosebumps break out all over.

“You don’t feel like eating right now?” I turn around and catch the twinkling insinuation in his eye. I’m expecting an innuendo, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he kisses me firmly and pushes me up against the counter.

Everything happens so fast from there. I’m tearing his wrinkled shirt off him right here in my mom’s kitchen and his hands are all over the back of my yoga pants. He sucks on my earlobe and shifts his lips down to my collarbone, and I sigh and grasp at him. He moans as I run my nails lightly up and down his spine.

“Maybe we should move this elsewhere,” I whisper, though it’s hard to say anything involving real words at the moment. My brain is full of lust, not to mention reeling from the declaration that he loves me and wants us to be together.

“Why? I thought you liked kitchen sex. You didn’t complain about having sex in my kitchen.” He slides his lips down my neck and finds all the sensitive places.

“Yeah, but yours didn’t have Christmas cards from my relatives staring at me from the fridge.”

I curse my mom for leaving holiday greetings up year-round. It’s difficult to fully get in the mood with great-aunt Lila and her Pekinese in matching Santa hats at eye level.

He chuckles, then turns around and notices the display. “So, upstairs?”

Without waiting for my answer, he slings me over his shoulder and heads for the staircase. I’m not sure how safe it is to literally carry me up the stairs, especially since I can’t resist grabbing his ass as we reach the landing, but somehow he makes it all the way to the top and puts me down.

“Which one is yours?” Sebastian asks, surveying the doors on both sides of the hallway.

Instead of answering, I lean on the door to my childhood bedroom and give him a sly smile. He doesn’t need any further invitation before burying his face in the crook of my neck. My heart is racing out of control. I’m wild with raw emotional need, and based on Sebastian’s enthusiasm, he feels the same.

We’ve done this before, but it feels different now that it’s not a rash decision or a mistake waiting to happen. Now that I know he’ll be the one I’m kissing tomorrow and the next day and the one after that.

Then I open the door, and pull him inside.

It’s not until much later, when I’m hurriedly making my twin bed before Mom comes home, that I wonder how Sebastian even knew to come to Waterloo in the first place. And how did he get here without a car?