The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline (52 page)

“Will you at least think about it?” he said, softly.

I nodded, still too angry to speak.

I let Sebastian finish up the fondue, my appetite having vanished. He kept throwing me guilty glances, but it didn’t stop him polishing both his plate and mine.

We spent the afternoon wandering through the town, stopping to look in shops and gazing up at the stormy face of Mont Blanc.

I was still irritated beyond tolerance with his high-handed behavior, but there was nothing I could do about it; besides I was used to waiting, and I’d waited in a lot worse places.

“I wouldn’t mind coming back here in the winter,” said Sebastian, apparently oblivious to my irritation, “try out the snowboarding.”

“That’s something else I’ve never done,” I muttered, trying to imagine hurtling down the steep, icy face of the lowering mountain on a piece of wood not much bigger than a skateboard.

“I’ll teach you,” said Sebastian, confidently.

“Oh, something you can teach me, Mr. Hunter?”

He raised an eyebrow and grinned at me.

I glanced at my watch. “I think we should be heading back now. I can’t get a signal on my phone here. My editor might have been trying to contact me.”

I threw him a challenging glance. Sebastian didn’t look happy, but he didn’t argue either.

We walked back to his motorcycle and I pulled on my very lovely, and very expensive new gloves.

Sebastian took the autoroute back to Geneva and we arrived in slightly under an hour. I didn’t like to ask what speed we’d been traveling at: one that exceeded the limit, I suspected.

I climbed off the bike, and handed him back my helmet. He stowed it in one of the empty saddlebags and stared down at me.

“I really enjoyed today, Sebastian. Most of it, anyway. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Caro.”

We stood gazing at each other. Without knowing why, I felt awkward, the tension rolling in waves between us.

“Okay, well, thanks again,” I murmured, turning to go.

“Can I see you tomorrow, Caro?” he said, his voice filled with intense longing. “Will you think about the Italy idea?”

I stared at him, certain the anguish was etched on my face.

His eyes darkened as he continued to stare at me.

“I want to kiss you, Caro. Very badly.”

The breath caught in my throat as he took a step toward me. I knew I wanted that, too.
Very badly
.

I raised my hand to his cheek and he sighed softly as he leaned into it, closing his eyes. I ran my fingers down his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin.

He took another step toward me, and rested his hands on my waist. I pulled his head toward me and felt his lips on mine. So soft, so sensuous. I could feel his breath stroke my face, then his lips parted and his tongue swept into my mouth.

My God, the feelings that burned through me, scorching away every sorrow, every moment of regret. Instead, I remembered how his hands had learned every curve and hollow of my body, how our love had melded us into one, how his body had fit inside mine.

He pressed himself into me, his mouth hungrily devouring every breath.

“God, I want you, Caro. I want to make love to you,” he whispered on my lips.

“Yes,” I said. “I want that, too.”

CHAPTER 4

Sebastian had to go and park his motorcycle in the hotel’s secure underground garage.

His absence gave me ample time to consider the consequences of what I was about to do. I still wasn’t sure I trusted him; I had about a minute to decide whether or not to change my mind. But, in truth, there was no decision to make. My body ached to be touched; it had been a long time, too long perhaps, since I’d allowed a man this close to me. And the way I felt when Sebastian was near me, it was as if every nerve ending was sensitized simply by his presence. I hated it and I loved it and I hated it.

I waited for him in the lobby, sitting on the same sofa where he’d sat last night during our fractured heart-to-heart. The receptionist’s curious gaze bounced off my back: I didn’t have room in my mind to consider anyone else at this point, and I cared even less what she thought of me, if she thought anything at all.

And then he had returned and it was too late.

Watching him walk through the automatic doors into the lobby was extraordinarily arousing. I longed to feel his body intertwined with mine, to feel as I had felt once before. I could see the tension and expectation on his face, and the old insecurities began to worm their way to the surface. Ten years ago, I had been the experienced one and I had led the way, even though my ‘experience’ had been limited to my uncreative husband. Sebastian’s experience, at the time, had been zero, but now? By his own admission, he had fucked every woman who’d let him. I had no doubt that his charm, superficial or otherwise, combined with his extraordinary good looks had gained him entry to a large number of bedrooms.

By contrast, the number of men I’d slept with since him could be numbered on one hand. I was afraid he would find me … boring.

He crossed the lobby with long strides until he was standing in front of me, searching my face. He held out his hand, and I didn’t hesitate. If it was a mistake, then it was one I made willingly.

A relieved smile flickered briefly across his face.

He pulled me to my feet and braided his fingers through mine, leading me toward the bank of gleaming elevators.

All were busy, crammed with tourists returning from day trips, politicians and businessmen retiring to their suites for the evening. Sebastian and I stood off to one side, wedged among a throng of men in suits. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled my back into his chest, bending down to place soft kisses in my hair.

Two men smiled knowingly, but Sebastian didn’t so much as glance at them.

Several other people got off at the same floor, following us along the corridor, chatting noisily. Sebastian and I were silent.

I pulled the keycard out of my wallet with shaking fingers, and pushed the door open. I stepped inside, my heart racing, my nerves taut. I moved around the room, turning on the side lights, pulling the curtains and shifting my laptop off the neatly made bed. In other words, doing everything rather than look at him.

He hovered by the door for a moment, then walked in slowly and sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes following me around the room. He caught my hand as I fluttered past on another pointless circuit.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m nervous, too.”

I stared at him in amazement.

“
You’re
nervous … why?”

“Because it’s you,” he said, simply.

He raised my hand to his lips and kissed it courteously, a sweet, old-fashioned gesture.

“Only if you want to, Caro.”

“I do … I just feel, I don’t know, embarrassed. It’s so stupid.”

He lay back on the bed and gently pulled me down next to him. He began kissing my throat, his hands moving up from my waist.

I felt him everywhere, all over me, suffocating me, and I froze.

“No, Sebastian.”

I pushed him away, and he stopped immediately.

I was half expecting him to get up and leave in disgust, but he surprised me again.

Suddenly, he rolled away from me to the other side of the bed.

“Let’s just make out,” he said, grinning at me.

“Make out? As in…”

“Lie on the bed, watch trashy TV in French or German—your choice—and make out.”

He raised his eyebrows as he sat up, then he shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it on the floor, unbuckled and levered his feet out of his biker boots, before peeling off his socks.

He grabbed a couple of pillows, piled them against the headboard and launched himself back onto the bed.

“Where’s the remote?”

I pointed to the cabinet on my side of the bed and watched as he stretched over me to retrieve it, exposing a delicious sliver of taut, naked stomach as his t-shirt rode up his body.

Oh, I really wanted some of that
.

He surfed through a few channels before he found some badly-dubbed TV show, then grinned up at me, patting the space on the bed next to him.

I followed his lead, unlacing my boots and dropping them in the corner with my socks. I crawled up on the bed next to him, and he pulled me into his arms so I was resting against his chest. He kissed my forehead and settled back on his pillows with a sigh.

I snuggled into him, feeling surprisingly relaxed.

“This feels good,” he said, happily. “Should we order room service?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Would you mind if I ordered myself a beer?”

Just one beer?

“No, I don’t mind.”

He pulled the hotel telephone toward him to order a beer and a sandwich, then settled back with his arm around me.

With typical Swiss efficiency, the beer arrived within five minutes; the ‘sandwich’—an enormous French baguette—was stuffed with cold meats, lettuce and tomato.

Sebastian’s eyes lit up.

“Food instead of sex?” I couldn’t help saying, reminding him of a running joke we’d once had.

He grinned at me, and licked his lips.

“For now. I’m still kind of hoping the sex comes later.”

“How’s that going for you?”

“Not sure: she’s playing hard to get. I was going to ply her with alcohol and have my wicked way with her, but I guess she’s wise to my game.”

“Women!” I said, rolling my eyes.

He laughed, and started to work on demolishing the sandwich.

When he’d finished and brushed the crumbs from his t-shirt, he lay back with the bottle of beer, and wrapped his free arm around me again. He sighed contentedly and stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossing his bare feet at the ankle.

“I could get used to this,” he said, nuzzling my hair.

“What, badly dubbed reruns of ‘Frasier’ and TV dinners?”

“You know exactly what I mean, woman.”

“Oh, ‘woman’, is it?” I said, thumping him on the chest.

“Yes, a beautiful, amazing, talented, gorgeous woman,” he said, his voice serious.

The mood shifted immediately, from relaxed and playful, to heated tension.

He placed his beer on the bedside table, then pulled me gently into his chest. With his fingertips, his free hand caressed my ear, gently sweeping my hair aside. His eyes studied my face carefully as he leaned in to kiss me, the lids fluttering closed at the last moment, before his lips touched mine.

His mouth drifted across my face, sweet, gentle kisses, as light as butterfly wings, hovering over my eyelids, brushing over my chin, then returning to rest on my lips.

My hand crept across his stomach, and slowly up toward his chest, pausing for a moment just over his heart. Then I lifted my hand to cup his cheek, and he turned his lips to kiss my palm.

He pulled me in more tightly, so I was half-lying across him, and he ran his hands up my spine while he kissed my neck. His kisses grew more urgent, and I felt him run his tongue over my throat. Then his teeth tugged on my lower lip, and his tongue dove into my mouth. I could taste beer and hot, delicious Sebastian.

I moaned onto his lips, and heard an answering growl from deep within his chest. I hooked my leg over his thigh, pulling our bodies closer together. Through his jeans I could feel that he was aroused, and the knowledge sent a jet of heat spiraling through my body.

His hands stroked my back through the thin cotton of my t-shirt as his kiss deepened. Then they dropped to the waistband of my jeans and he pulled the material free, running his strong fingers along my bare skin, toying briefly with the elastic of my bra, before dropping back down to cup my ass.

I shivered with desire, and his hands stilled.

“Are you sure, Caro?” he whispered.

I leaned away so I could gaze down into his beautiful eyes, softly massaging the small frown line between his eyebrows with my finger.

“I’m sure.” I sat up and pulled off my t-shirt to add emphasis to my words.

His eyes were dark with desire and he swallowed quickly before sitting up and hauling his own t-shirt over his head. His silver dog tags chinked quietly as they settled back on his chest.

I reached over to touch him, needing to feel the warmth of his silky flesh, then stopped.

“You got a tattoo?”

He smiled slightly.

“Standard Marine issue.”

I studied the delicate artwork and misty colors while Sebastian slowly stroked my back.

“The Marine insignia, right? What does it stand for?”

“The eagle represents the nation, well, protecting the nation—see the way its wings are spread out? The globe is our worldwide presence, and the anchor is because of our naval heritage.”

The eagle was carrying a ribbon in its beak: I was just able to make out the tiny words.

“
Semper fidelis
—always faithful.”

He nodded, his eyes serious.

I kissed his shoulder gently and lay back on the bed, pulling him toward me. Without speaking again, he pressed me down into the mattress, kissing me hard. His right hand roamed over my breast, gliding his fingers under my bra-cup and teasing the nipple until it was sensitized and rigid.

Then he slid his hand under my back, snapping open the bra’s catch, and pushed the shoulder straps over my arms, tossing the flimsy fabric onto the floor.

He moved his head to my breasts, his tongue dancing around the nipples, grazing his teeth over my aroused skin.

I moaned, arching my back, and he hooked one hand underneath me, half-lifting me off the bed. I responded by dragging my nails down his spine, making him cry out. He ground his hips into my pelvis and sucked the skin on my shoulder, biting so I could feel his teeth.

I ran my hands over his biceps and forearms, then slid my fingers inside the front of his jeans, feeling the large bulge pushing through his briefs. He groaned loudly, and I squeezed him through the material.

“Fuck, Caro!” he said, his voice hoarse with need.

Matching me move for move, he pushed his hands underneath my waistband, caressing my ass, pushing his fingers into the cleft between my buttocks. Then he pulled his hand out and toyed with the button on the front of my jeans, before twisting it open. He didn’t bother with the zipper, but simply pushed his fingers under my panties, pulling gently on my pubic hair, massaging my mound in slow circles, before letting his index finger drift lower.

I knew I was wet, desperately aroused, and as soon as his fingers found me I cried out. He’d always known this part of my body so well, and he definitely hadn’t lost his touch. In and out, in and out, torturing me, confined as I was by my jeans. My back arched, and I cried out again.

He sat up quickly and unzipped my jeans, hauling them roughly down my legs, before catching his fingers through the fragile fabric of my panties and tossing them to the floor.

I quivered as he splayed out his fingers and ran them from my chest, down across my stomach, down across my pubic bone and along my thighs. His hand rose upwards again, finding my sweet spot with his index finger; he began to press hard, back and forth.

I groaned, and pushed his hand away.

“No. You. I want you.”

He smiled briefly, then unzipped his pants and stood to let them drop to the floor, kicking his feet free.

I knelt up on the edge of the bed, pushing my breasts into his chest, and running my hands over his ass. Then I peeled the briefs over his hips and his erection leapt free.

Jeez, he was big!

I’d honestly forgotten how well endowed he was. Truthfully, I’d not realized until after our ways had parted, that he was considerably above average.

I licked my lips and ran one hand over the length, gently cupping his balls in my other.

He breathed in deeply through his nose, his nostrils flaring slightly. I repeated the gesture and he swore lightly under his breath.

A bead of moisture glinted at the tip, and I swirled it around with my thumb. His body trembled.

“Are you on the pill?” he said, his voice rough.

I shook my head, a smile threatening to break out. “I don’t usually have a need for it. Please tell me you have condoms, otherwise ‘making out’ is all we’re going to be doing.”