Sebastian was good at that—getting me out of my mind. Better than I wanted to admit. He teased and tortured and chased every last inhibition out of me with barely more than a sharply bent eyebrow. For the first time in fuck if I knew, I felt free in my body. I felt as though I could ask him for anything and not only would he give it, he'd devour me because he wanted it too. He lost himself in my body like I was a treasure rather than a messy perfectionist with a savage heart and an irritable gut.
Like I was someone worth keeping.
Chapter 25
Sara
Sebastian Stremmel was one hell of a cuddler. He was straight up snuggly, his body tucked tight around mine. His scruffy chin rasped against my shoulder, his breath warm on my skin. He was thick and rigid where he pressed into my backside, and his hand rested low on my belly.
It was a whole lot of wonderful to wake up this way except I didn't enjoy anyone touching me there. I loved that my body did its damnedest to carry me through this life and keep me going, though I didn't know how to love the soft and the squish of that spot. Especially when someone else touched it. I didn't mind him seeing it and knowing it existed, but touching lived in a different class of awareness.
"Whatever you are thinking about, stop," Sebastian grumbled.
I moved his hand to my thigh. I hadn't made peace there either, but my legs were very strong and I admired that. It was like that strength had earned me the right to accept my legs, and I knew that was kind of fucked-up, but I also knew that perfection wasn't the goal of a safe relationship with my body. I could hold difficult, complex, even uncomfortable feelings. I could move his hand from one spot while still wanting it everywhere else. I could be messy. I could do all of that and love myself at the same time.
"How do you know I'm thinking about something?"
"I could bounce quarters off the tension in your shoulders. What was a cozy pillow a few minutes ago is now a hard bag of bones."
He shifted his hand back to my belly. I batted it away.
"What?" he snapped. "You're warm and your vagina is made out of devastating magic. Let me hold you."
"You can hold me, just not there."
"But I'm obsessed with that spot," he argued.
"But I can't be comfortable when you're grabbing my fat."
"No, Sara. No. We're not doing that. I fucking mean it. Soft bellies are the sexiest thing in the world."
"Please don't. It's nice and well-intentioned, but—"
"Nothing about me is well-intentioned. Or nice for that matter," he said as he shifted my hair off my shoulder. "I'm telling you I find this overwhelmingly, distractingly sexy. These thick thighs too. I'm saying this is beautiful to me. I fucking love it."
"But—why do you love it?"
He rolled me to my back, scowled down at me like I'd really offended him. "Why do I need a reason? Why can't I just love it?"
"Because no one loves a belly roll," I said. "Anyone who says they do is lying."
"I'm not lying," he grumbled. "If I didn't think you'd throttle me, I'd put my head in your lap every time we're on the couch in Milana's office."
"What the hell are you talking about? You won't even sit next to me!"
"Because I want to put my head in your lap, you screechy little owl. Seriously, woman. You're killing me here. Just once it would be nice if you'd listen to what I actually say to you."
None of that seemed like a good idea. Not happening, thank you very much. "But look at you! I mean, you don't have a pudgy belly!"
"Am I supposed to be attracted to myself? I really don't think that's the way it goes. Bad logic, Shap." He dragged his lips from the ball of my shoulder up to my neck. "I am attracted to you. So attracted to you that I can't think when I see you. Can't even speak. All I can do is stare while you walk by with those nerdy t-shirts and thighs like a fucking wet dream and that chaos bun."
"You called it a chaos bun," I said to myself, laughing. "And you're not wrong. Dammit, you are not wrong."
"How do you fit all this hair into a scrub cap? I have been dying to know."
"I order them from a creator on Etsy," I replied, hiding my grin in his bicep. "I get them custom made. The chaos bun special order."
He passed his fingers over my lower abdomen. "I love this, Sara. I fuckin' love it." He shifted to trace the line of my leg from my hip to my knee. "But I don't have to if it's going to stress you out."
I lay there, my head swimming with rebuttals because this could not be true. It could not be. No one would ever choose to love this.
"What time do you have to leave for the conference?"
With my fingertip, I drew circles on his arm. "The presentations start after a keynote lunch, but…" I glanced up at him though I couldn't catch his eye since he was still busy with my belly. "I don't have to go today. Tomorrow is essential, but I can get out of today without issue."
"But you're a grade A geek. Why would you skip it?"
"The content doesn't line up with my interests," I said. That was the most mild, generous way I could say it.
"Then…what are you doing here? Did you actually orchestrate this? Did you get my itinerary from Acevedo's wife? Did Erin tell you where to find me?"
"Erin had no part in this, and listen, I can barely mastermind my way through a day. Forget about international travel," I said with a laugh. "It's a plastics conference, but it's geared more toward cosmetic surgery than anything I do."
"Let me ask you one more time: What are you doing here?"
"It's a whole long story that I don't want to deal with right now. I can promise you I didn't orchestrate this. If anyone orchestrated anything, it was probably you."
"Me? Hardly. A couple months back, Erin wouldn't leave me alone about taking time off. She made me hand over a credit card when I was at their place for dinner one night and booked this whole thing. She and Nick came here with Hartshorn and his wife last winter. I didn't even know where I was going until two hours before I left for the airport." He kissed the side of my neck, drew a small shiver from me. "You're going to ditch your conference and hang out with me today?"
"Unless that screws up your vacation vibes."
"My vacation vibes consist of sitting on the beach, rereading a book I don't like, and debating if it's too early to order a beer. You would be a substantial improvement to those vibes."
"What are we going to do?"
"We'll figure it out," he said. "Can I ask you something weird?"
"This is going to be exciting," I said flatly.
He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip, his brows drawn together. "Do you ever use leeches?"
A laugh hooted out of me as I rolled away from him.
He crawled over me, flattened me on my back with his knees tight against my hips and his hands planted beside my shoulders. "Is this what I get for asking about your practice? You laughing your ass off? It can't be that strange a question."