Ruined (A Barnes Brothers novel) (20 page)

“I think . . . I think I’m okay with it.”

Okay?
Marin’s saner self—that one part of her mind that could still think and wasn’t a jabbering, wilting mess of nerves and need—
yet—
laughed at her. She wasn’t okay with anything that didn’t involve him coming inside her now.

“Good.”

But the way he’d said it, and what he was doing . . .

He kissed her, his hair falling down to brush against her face. She cupped his cheeks in her hands. Her thumb brushed against the ragged lower edge of the scar and she held him close when he would have tugged away.

His bare legs rubbed against hers. Her breath caught, held in her lungs and she arched up, that desperate, hungry need starting to coil inside her. Marin slid her hands down his chest, feeling his chest hair against her hands. She tugged on it lightly and he grunted, muttering her name. He pushed his knee between her thighs and the feel of him moving against her had her arching higher, trying to get closer.

She had the fanciful thought that he could dissolve inside her and it wouldn’t be enough. Continuing the downward path with her hands, she caught his hips and pulled demandingly. Sebastien caught her wrists, dragging them up.

“In such a rush.” He nuzzled her neck before lifting his face up to meet her eyes.

She didn’t want to look at him, though. She felt more than naked with him like this—she felt exposed.

Curling her legs around his hips, she stared at him from under her lashes. “Yes. I am. Are you going to make me wait?”

“Witch.”

He moved high and when she felt the head of his cock, she gasped. One more move had him gliding back and forth between the wet folds of her sex and Marin whimpered, arching up to take him deeper.

Her eyes drifted closed and she fell into a sea of sensation and hot, molten pleasure.

“No,” Sebastien whispered as he started to pull back. “Don’t look away. Don’t close me out.”

Forcing her eyes to open, she stared at him. He pulled out and surged back in, deeper, harder and the aching need inside her spread, growing until she knew it would swallow her whole. She clutched at his hand, her nails biting into his skin.

Even when his mouth took hers in another deep, drugging kiss, she couldn’t look away.

He didn’t, either.

It was madness and bliss, and he rode her hard, pushing them straight into the heart of it.

She exploded, dissolving into sensation.

Sebastien raced along after her, all but chasing the orgasm, and when his cock swelled, then pulsed inside her, she whimpered, twisting against him. It was too much. Too much.

***

They lay side by side in the darkness. Sebastien was on his side and he had the flat of his hand spread over her belly.

Marin would have been over the moon happy if she could just figure out how Sebastien felt.

She’d been afraid for so long and now . . .

“How did you feel when you found out?” Sebastien asked in the dark.

“I . . .” Frowning, she thought through the question and realized it was one she hadn’t really considered much.

Had she thought about how she’d felt?

She’d known how she felt especially after a few days and the time to think it all through. She wanted the baby, was more excited about him, was more excited than she could ever recall being about anything.

“I was . . . happy.” The smile came unbidden. She looked toward his face, realizing her eyes had adjusted well enough that she could see him despite the dim light that filtered in. “I am happy. I . . . well, I haven’t told my folks yet, but I know they’ll be happy, too.”

He put his hands on her belly and started to rub in slow circles.

She turned her face toward his. “What about you?”

Sebastien didn’t know how to put what he was feeling into words. He’d never been particularly good when it came to explaining himself. He could make a character come alive; people who didn’t even exist—well, he could make
those
people relatable to millions of viewers. But one on one? When it came to things that mattered? He knew how to be charming in interviews and he knew how to say the things people wanted to hear, but all of that was shallow shit.

How could he tell Marin that he’d spent the past couple of months reading up about babies and pregnancy and that he could tell that sometimes her back bothered her already and he knew she wasn’t sleeping too great lately? Well, he
could
tell her but he’d sound like a fucking stalker.

Uncertain, he flattened his hand over her belly and slid his eyes up to her face. “I told you earlier. I don’t think words can cover what I’m feeling.”

Faint light from the narrow slit in the curtains fell across her face and he could just make out her eyes. A faint smile curled her lips and she moved in closer. As she snuggled up against him, he tucked her head under his chin and closed his eyes.

They could make this work.

Damn. He was going to be a dad.

***

Phone calls at four in the morning weren’t welcome. Having somebody knock on the door was slightly less annoying, but only slightly. Marin was still trying to knuckle the sleep out of her eyes when she realized Sebastien was already at the door, speaking to somebody in a low voice.

She forced herself upright and grabbed her robe from the foot of her bed, slipping into it just as he closed the door.

“What was that?”

“Somebody from the front desk.” He came toward her and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her in close.

Heat pierced the fog of sleep as he untied the belt and slid his hands around her waist, drawing her in closer.

“What’d they want?” She was trying to focus and he was busy trying to distract her.

“Message from Sojo. We’ve got the next four days off.” The words were spoken against her belly and she caught her breath as he went lower, his tongue coming out to stab at her clit through her curls.

Message . . .
dimly, she realized there was probably more to that message than he’d relayed.

Then he circled his tongue around her clit and the ability to think just sort of faded away. Her knees went weak and he caught her, easing her back onto the bed. He came up over her and kissed her, the taste of her mingling with the taste of
him
and she moaned. She reached for him, her fingers digging into the heavy ridge of muscle at his back.

Denim rubbed against her thighs and she pulled back from his kiss long enough to ask, “Why are you wearing clothes?”

“Because I try to avoid answering doors naked.” There was a laugh in his voice but it was gone in an instant as she reached between them and tore at the opening of his jeans.

She had his cock in her hand in seconds and when she stroked up, then down, Sebastien muttered her name, voice low and rough. When she repeated the caress, he shoved himself into her palm, reaching between them to cover her hand with his, tightening her grip.

He braced his weight on his free elbow, lifting up to stare at her, the blue-green of his eyes locking with hers.

She passed her thumb over the head of his cock, felt the dampness seeping out.

He stopped with a snarl and nudged her thighs wide. “Now.”

“You’re the one who stopped to get dressed,” she reminded him. She might have said something else, but he was inside her in the next moment and the only noise she was capable of making was a long, wordless keen of hunger.

She moaned as he pulled out and surged back in, each dig of his hips taking him deeper and deeper. Marin couldn’t even tell where he ended and she began, but she knew that he still wasn’t close enough. Clutching him to her, she sank her teeth into his ear and gasped out his name. His cock swelled inside her, big, thicker. It was too much.

Her climax seemed to open up under her, swallowing her whole.

It wracked her entire body, spasms that left her shuddering and twisting against him. When it ended, she was so drained, she couldn’t even move. One hand slid off his back to smack bonelessly against the floor.

Sebastien said something to her, but the words didn’t make much sense. She was already half-asleep.

Her first thought was that she’d overslept.

Sunlight was coming in through the curtains and she knew that wasn’t right. She was supposed to have been on set when the sun came up, so if the sun was up . . .

She jerked upright and saw Sebastien tucking something into somebody’s hand—money, her mind filed away—while two others bustled around, setting up breakfast. Her belly grumbled, particularly at the smell of bacon.

“Sebastien . . .”

His gaze slanted toward her, a smile crooking up his lips. But he just kept speaking in low tones to the hotel staff. The man in front of him didn’t even look at Marin, just dipped his head and said, “Of course, Mr. Barnes. You needn’t be concerned.”

She had no doubt what they were discussing—Sebastien was asking for discretion. The concierge—she recognized him—was assuring him they’d have it.

There was a fifty-fifty chance. The concierge was a nice guy. She liked him and she could tell he liked his job. It was the others she didn’t know about. But she’d already resigned herself to the fact that news about her and Sebastien was going to come out, probably sooner than later. After yesterday, it wasn’t even a question now. If somebody was going to sell that story to the tabloids, she’d rather it be somebody who needed the money instead of somebody on set looking to be petty. It had happened to her more than once.

The doors soon closed behind the hotel staff and they were left alone.

She held the blanket to her breasts as Sebastien came toward her, wearing only his jeans, the light dusting of hair leading down in a thin ribbon toward the low-slung waistband of said jeans. “What . . .” She cleared her husky throat. “What’s this?”

“Breakfast in bed. Sorry to wake you, but we’ve got to hit the road soon.”

“We . . .” She frowned at him. “Why are we hitting the road?”

“We’ve got a few days off. I thought we’d do something useful with them.” He picked up two plates and came toward her, offering her one, and then putting his down on the table next to the bed.

She studied hers, found it loaded down with scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. While he went back to where the breakfast had been so elegantly spread out, she picked up a piece of bacon and nibbled on it. Sebastien grabbed two glasses of juice and came back to her. “We’ve got a plane to catch in four hours.”

That had her arching a brow. “Is that right?” She could just bet she knew what he was thinking.

“Yeah.” He put her glass of juice down, but lifted his to his lips and half guzzled it. “I thought we could go to Tennessee, tell your folks.”

She bobbled the plate. “Tuh . . . We’re going to Tennessee.”

“Unless you’d rather call them.” He leaned forward then, eyes serious. “After yesterday, people are going to talk. People are going to speculate. After you passed out on the set, and then what happened between us . . . sooner or later, somebody is going to toss it out there and this time, they’ll be right. I’d rather tell my parents. Wouldn’t you?”

Instead of answering, she nibbled on another piece of bacon. Taking her time, Marin drank some juice, and then looked over at him. Because she knew Sebastien, she asked, “And when do we head to San Francisco?”

“We don’t.”

“We don’t,” she echoed, not quite believing him.

“It’s . . . ah . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, you know Abby’s birthday is coming up. It’s on Sunday. Zane’s is on Wednesday. My folks are going to be in Tucson this weekend, so I thought we’d crash the party.”

“And the movie?” She frowned at him. “You never did tell me why Sojo announced the sudden break.”

“Yeah. That.” Face grim, he looked away. “Sojo’s mother passed away. She had to leave to make arrangements. I . . . Hell, I called her earlier, offered my condolences. She told me to keep them, expects us all to be back and ready to work our asses off come Tuesday. Doesn’t much sound like she’s grieving. She just sounded pissed off.”

“Sojo’s mother threw her out of the house when she came out about being a lesbian.” Marin plucked at the sheet. “They reconnected—sort of—over the past year, but it wasn’t really friendly. It was mostly just being cordial if they saw each other at other family events. Her mother never really forgave Sojo for . . . well, for being Sojo...” Marin shrugged.

“Bullshit.” Sebastien shook his head. “Why’s Sojo even bothering to help, then? Let other family members do it.”

“Because Sojo still loved her mother. And if she sounded pissed off, that might be why.”

***

Telling her parents had been easy compared to this. And oddly enough, neither of them had been surprised.

Mom had given her an appraising look when they’d shown up on the front porch and Marin had the weirdest feeling that her mother had known—maybe not about the baby, but about her and Sebastien.

Of course, her father had teased them both something awful about her snagging a younger man. Sebastien had taken it all in good-natured humor and after spending the night, they’d caught a flight to Arizona.

This was going to be the hard one.

She didn’t know why, but ever since she’d disembarked in Tuscon, she’d been entirely too nervous.

She didn’t get it.

She was about as close to Ron and Denise as she was to her own parents—they were like a second family. This should be
easy
.

Speeding down the highway in Sebastien’s rented Corvette, Marin found herself lifting her hand to her lips—to bite her damn nails. A habit she’d broken years ago.

She stopped and clenched her hand into a fist, turning her head to stare out at the desert around them.

“Why are you nervous?”

“Who says I am?” Marin shot Sebastien an easy smile, determined not to let him see how her belly felt like it had gone and twisted itself into a hundred thousand knots. It was just plain
stupid
. She was going to see Ron and Denise, the rest of the brothers, and Abigale. The only person she didn’t know particularly well was Keelie, but they’d always gotten along. No reason to be nervous.

Sebastien held out a hand.

Curious, she looked down and then put hers in his.

“Other hand.”

Rolling her eyes, she complied. She’d already uncurled the fist. The second their skin touched, he turned her palm upright. “You’ve gouged your nails into your skin. But you’re not nervous.”

Snatching her hand away, she tucked her hand under her thigh, hiding those little half moons of evidence from him. “Don’t be silly. There’s no reason to be nervous. I mean, I’ve known your parents for more than half my life. Zach is like a brother to me.”

“Yeah.” There was a faint half smile on Sebastien’s face as he hit the blinker and started to slow down. A massive house up ahead caught her eye. “That’s the place.”

Marin lifted her brows. “Wow.”

“Yeah. So . . . since there’s no reason for you to be nervous . . .”

She smacked him on the thigh. “Shut up.”

***

It was almost like any other get together with them.

Marin sat on a lounge chair under a huge sun umbrella. Both Sojo and Geneva would have her hide if she went back with any kind of tan or sunburn. Slathered in sunscreen and hiding under the protection of the umbrella, she felt confident she’d avoid incurring their wrath and she was quite comfortable. The heat of the day made her lazy, and when Sebastien brought her some tea, she guzzled almost half the glass before stopping.

“You should have said you were thirsty.” He sat at the foot of the chaise, his eyes on the crowd rather than her. But he had his hand on her ankle and the way his thumb kept rubbing over her skin was doing things that were a little crazy for such an innocuous touch.

“What were you and Zach talking about?” she asked.

Sebastien sent her a quick look. “Nothing important.”

“He looked pretty intense.” From behind the protective shield of her glasses, Marin was able to look at Zach and she saw him glancing at them again. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught him eying them strangely. She doubted it would be the last, either.

Zach was always trying to play the hero. He’d been like that as long as she’d known him.

“He’s just being Zach. Abby might have hinted that we were . . . involved. He’s protective of you, you know.” Sebastien crooked a grin at her. “If he gives me trouble, it’s not a problem. I did it to him first.”

She might have asked about that if Denise hadn’t come toward them in the next moment, carrying two plates. “Here. I know you two are on a job, but you can still eat. Once I heard you were coming out, I asked Abby to make sure there would be something you could both eat.”

“I’m not supposed to be a bean pole, Mom.” Sebastien studied the pile of greens on his plate, but grinned at her. “At least I got some chicken.”

“Abby made it so you know you’ll like it.”

“You made her cook for her own birthday party?” Marin laughingly accepted the plate.

Denise waved a hand. “Fine, she didn’t cook it. Her staff did. She’s had to expand, did you hear?”

Marin nodded, stabbing at a fat strawberry with a fork. “She’s pretty pleased with it, but I think she’s done growing. She’ll have to start turning people down.”

“That’s the life of a successful businesswoman.” Denise sat in the chair nearest them, gazing out over the throng. The only ones missing were the twins—Travis had claimed work, as he always did. Trey also had work, but then there was his family. He had a deadline and Ressa hadn’t been able to get off work, so they’d called in the night before. “She’ll decide she wants to expand or she’ll decide she’s happy where she is and as much as she hates turning people down, that’s what she’ll have to do.”

Denise’s blue eyes, eyes she’d passed on to her boys, looked bright and happy. “You heard about Trey and Ressa’s pregnancy, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. He called me.” Sebastien nodded.

“Ressa sent me a text. She’s a wonderful lady—exactly what Trey needed after . . .” Marin stopped, sighing. Trey’s first wife had died in childbirth and it had seemed as though he’d never emerge from the dark depression that had gripped him. Ressa had turned his life upside down and he was that much happier for it now. “If only you can get somebody to have that kind of effect on Travis.”

“Humph.” Denise blew out a harsh breath through her nostrils. “I think that boy will need the earth to open up under his feet before
he
gets a clue. Kind of like you, Sebastien.”

Sebastien jerked his head up, the fork in his hand almost slipping. He had a mouth full of food and he couldn’t say anything with his mother sitting there—she’d get on him for that. Hurriedly, he chewed. “What? I don’t . . .” He stopped, shaking his head. Jabbing his fork toward his mother, he said, “You worry about Travis all you want. He needs it more than I ever did. He needs it more than Trey did.”

Denise’s mouth went white around the corners, but all she said was, “I’ll worry as I want to, thank you very much.”

“I think that’s a mother’s prerogative,” Marin said, kicking Sebastien lightly when he would have said anything else.

He caught her ankle and squeezed.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Denise, either.

Marin caught the speculation in her eyes and felt herself blushing and damn it all, that only made it worse. Sebastien noticed, too, and he gave Marin a quick look. She read everything in that look and tried to keep her cool as he smoothed his hand up from her ankle to her knee. “You know, Mom . . . there’s actually something I wanted to tell you and Dad. You think he’s got time?”

Denise’s eyes widened a fraction. “Well, I’ll just go and get him, whether he has time or not. Is this private?”

Marin snorted. “Nothing stays private in this family for long, does it?”

“Well . . . not generally.” Denise laughed as she rose, dusting off her long, rose-colored skirt. “I’ll be back.”

Abigale wandered over and nudged Marin’s knee, sitting on the other side of her. “You know, it’s a good thing the chaise is a large one,” Marin said ruefully, eying her best friend.

Abby was too busy taking in Sebastien. He hadn’t moved his hand. “So . . .” Abby propped her chin on her fist and studied Sebastien. “I saw you and Zach talking earlier. Is he going to pay up yet?”

“I’m not responsible for helping you collect on money owed, Abs.” Sebastien winked at her.

“You know, Zach was telling me—”

“So!” Denise sailed back into their orbit, her husband bringing up the rear. Ron gave her a nod and stroked his hand down his wife’s back.

“She’s all aflutter,” Ron said. “Ever since Trey and Ressa let us in on their news.”

“Another baby.” Denise’s eyes went misty but that didn’t keep her from narrowing her focus in on Sebastien. “So what is it you wanted to tell us, honey? I’m so happy to see you back at work, you know.”

“Ah, thanks, Mom.” Sebastien rubbed at the back of his neck and glanced at Marin from the corner of his eye.
You or me,
the look seemed to say.

She cocked a brow at him. This was his show.

Denise caught the look and she clasped her hands in front of her. “I knew it—there’s something going on between you two, isn’t there?”

“Ah . . . yeah. You can say that.” Sebastien stood up while Marin snickered.

“Are you two—” Denise stopped, closing her eyes. “No. You tell me.”

“I’m
trying
, Mom,” Sebastien said, looking exasperated.

By now, more than a few people had gathered around. It wasn’t just family at the house, but friends of Abigale and Zach, Keelie and Zane. That included some of the employees from the tattoo studio, Steel Ink
,
co-owned by Keelie and Zach. One of them was a bright, bubbly blonde and she clapped her hands, squealing. “Oh, wow! Are you two getting married? That would be so f’in’ awesome.” She bobbed her head at Denise. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Before Sebastien could respond, Zach snorted. “They ain’t getting married. Marin’s too old for him.”

Marin felt the hot rush of blood rush to her cheeks and for a few seconds, she was so embarrassed, she couldn’t say anything. The guests all found somebody or something else to look at

Sebastien’s jaw was like granite, eyes icy as he glared at his brother. Abigale didn’t look any happier as she stood, crossing her arms over her chest. “Seriously, Zach?”