Ten Things I Love About You

Chapter Twenty

Annabel watched as Sebastian walked toward the water. He stood near the edge, almost close enough to get his shoes wet. He looked out toward the opposite shore, his posture stiff and unyielding.

It was so unlike him. It was so…wrong.

Sebastian was loose limbed, graceful. His every movement was a secret dance, every smile a silent poem. This was not right. It was not him.

When had she come to know him so well, that she could tell by the line of his back that he was not himself? And why did it hurt so much, to know that she knew this? That she knew him.

After what seemed an eternity, he turned around and said with heartbreaking formality, “From your silence I must deduce that you do not have an answer for me.”

She moved her head in a tiny motion, just enough to say no.

“It does prick the confidence,” he said, “to steal your phrase.”

“It’s all very complicated,” Annabel said.

He crossed his arms and regarded her with a quirk of his brow. And just like that, he was back. The stiffness was gone, replaced by an easy confidence, and when he walked toward her, it was with an arrogant grace that mesmerized her.

“It’s not complicated,” he said. “It couldn’t be simpler. I asked you to marry me, and you want to. All you have to do is say yes.”

“I didn’t say-”

“You want to,” he said, with an unbelievably annoying degree of certainty. “You know that you do.”

He was right, of course, but Annabel could not help but be provoked by his swagger. “You’re rather sure of yourself.”

He stepped toward her, smiling slowly. Seductively. “Shouldn’t I be?”

“My family…” she whispered.

“Won’t starve.” He touched her chin, tipping her face gently toward his. “I’m not a pauper, Annabel.”

“There are eight of us.”

He considered this. “Very well, no one will starve, but you all might get a bit thin.”

She let out a snort of laughter. She hated that he could make her laugh at such a moment. No, she loved it. No, she loved him.

Oh God.

She jumped back.

“What is it?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Tell me,” he prodded, and he took her hand, tugging her back toward him. “Something just happened. I saw it in your eyes.”

“No, Mr.-”

“Sebastian,” he reminded her, touching his lips to her forehead.

“Sebastian,” she croaked. It was hard to speak when he was so close. It was hard to think.

His lips moved to her cheekbone, light and soft. “I have ways of making you talk,” he whispered.

“Wh-what?”

He nibbled on her lower lip, then moved to her ear. “What were you thinking?” he murmured.

She could only moan.

“I shall have to be more persuasive.” His hands moved to her back, sliding down until he cupped her bottom, pressing her against him. Annabel felt her head tilt back, away from his sensual onslaught, but still, she could barely breathe. His body was so hard, and hot, and she could feel his arousal growing against her.

“I want you,” he whispered. “And I know you want me.”

“Here?” she gasped.

He chuckled. “I’m a bit more refined than that. But,” he added, sounding thoughtful, “we are quite alone.”

She nodded.

“None of the guests have arrived yet.” He kissed the soft skin where her ear met the line of her jaw. “And I think it is safe to assume that your marvelous cousin will not disturb us.”

“Sebastian, I-”

“We shall make her godmother to our children.”

“What?” But she could barely gasp the word. His hand had found its way under her skirt and was moving relentlessly up her leg. And all she wanted-oh dear God, she was wicked-was to bend a little, and open a little, and make it easier for him to do whatever it was he wanted.

“She can teach them all to skip stones,” he said, reaching the tender spot just above her knee. Annabel shuddered.

“Ticklish there?” he said with a smile. He moved higher. “We shall have lots of children, I think. Lots and lots and lots.”

She needed to stop him. She needed to say something, to tell him that she had not decided yet, that she could not commit, not until she’d had a bit of time to think clearly, which she obviously could not do in his presence. He was talking about the future, about children, and she knew that her silence felt like an assent.

He ran one finger along the inside of her thigh. “I just don’t think that we could possibly not have lots of children,” he murmured. His lips found her ear again. “I shan’t let you out of our bed.”

Her knees buckled.

His finger slid even higher, reaching the hot crease where leg met her hip. “Shall I tell you what I plan to do there? In our bed?”

She nodded.

He smiled. She felt it against her ear, felt his lips move and tilt, heard his breath fill with joy. “First,” he said softly, “I shall see to your pleasure.”

A little moan escaped her lips. Or maybe it was a squeak.

“I will start with a kiss,” he said, his voice hot and low against her skin. “But where, I wonder?”

“Where?” she whispered. It wasn’t really a question, more of an echo of disbelief.

He touched her mouth. “On the lips? Maybe.” His finger made a lazy trail down to her collarbone. “I do like this part of you. And these…” He cupped one of her breasts, moaning as he squeezed. “I could lose myself all day in these.”

Annabel arched her back, wanting to give him more. Her body had taken over and it was desperate for him. She couldn’t stop thinking about what he had done to her in the Valentines’ drawing room. How he had touched her breasts. All her life she had hated them, hated how men stared and whistled and if they’d had too much to drink, seemed to think she was ripe for the picking.

But Sebastian had made her feel beautiful. He had loved her body, and this had made her love her body.

He dipped his hand into the bodice of her dress, slid his fingers under her chemise so he could skim them over her nipple. “You have no idea,” he said in a husky voice, “how much I’m going to love you here.”

Her breath caught, and she felt bereft as he moved his hand again. It had been a most awkward position for him, and she could not help but think that if she could just push the whole bloody thing down, he could touch her everywhere. He could squeeze, and knead, and suckle.

“Oh my God,” she moaned.

“What are you thinking about?” he whispered.

She shook her head. There was no way she could give voice to the wanton thoughts in her head.

“Are you thinking about where else I might kiss you?”

Dear God, she hoped he did not expect her to answer.

“I might kiss you somewhere else entirely,” he teased. His other hand-the one on her leg-wrapped softly around her thigh and squeezed. “If I want to give you pleasure,” he murmured, “to give you full pleasure, I think I’m going to have to kiss you here.”

His finger dipped between her legs.

She almost jumped back. She would have, if his arm hadn’t been wrapped so tightly around her.

“Do you like that?” he murmured, tracing tiny circles as he moved closer to her center.

She nodded. Or maybe she thought she nodded. But she definitely didn’t say no.

A second finger joined the first, and with aching gentleness he teased her open, stroking her moist skin. Annabel felt her body begin to jerk and shudder, and she grabbed tightly to his shoulders, afraid that if she let go, she would simply collapse.

“You would taste like heaven, I think,” he continued, clearly unwilling to stop until she had exploded in his arms. “I would lick you right here.” He ran one fingertip lightly along her skin. “And then right here.” He repeated the caress on the other side. “And then I would go here.” He moved to her most sensitive nub of flesh, and she almost screamed.

His mouth pressed harder against her ear. “I’d lick that, too.”

Annabel clutched him even harder, pressing her hips into his hand.

“But even that might not be enough,” he whispered. “You are a discerning woman, and you might make me work for your pleasure.”

“Oh, Sebastian,” she moaned.

He chuckled lightly against her skin. “I might have to touch you a little more deeply.” One of his fingers began to circle at her opening, then slid softly inside. “Like this. Do you like that?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes.”

He began to move within her. “Do you like this?”

“Yes.”

Oh, he was wicked, and she was wicked, and he was doing wicked things to her. And all she could think was that they were out of doors and anyone could come across them, and somehow that made it all the more delicious.

“Let go, Annabel,” he whispered in her ear.

“I can’t,” she whimpered, clamping her legs around him. She was aching inside. He was making her ache, and she had no idea how to make it stop.

Or even if she wanted it to stop.

“Let go,” he whispered again.

“I-I-”

He chuckled. “I’m going to speak very plainly, Anna-”

“Oh!”

She wasn’t certain if she let go or not, but something inside her quite simply fell apart. She clung to his shoulders, holding on for dear life, and then, when she started to go limp, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to a soft patch of grass several yards away. She sat down, and then lay down, allowing the sun to warm her face.

“I love you in green,” he said.

She didn’t open her eyes. “I’m wearing pink.”

“You’d look better if you took it all off,” he said, dropping a kiss on her nose, “and it was just you and the grass.”

“I don’t know what you just did to me,” she said. She sounded dazed. She didn’t think she’d sounded so dazed in her life.

He kissed her again. “I can think of ten more things I’d like to do.”

“I think that would kill me.”

He laughed loudly at that. “Clearly we’ll need to practice more. Build up your stamina.”

She finally opened her eyes and looked at him. He was lounging on his side, his head propped against his hand. He had a clover in his hand.

He tickled her nose with it. “You’re so beautiful, Annabel.”

She sighed happily. She felt beautiful.

“Are you going to marry me?”

She closed her eyes again. She felt so perfectly languid.

“Annabel?”

“I want to,” she said softly.

“Why do I think that’s not quite the same thing as a yes?”

She let out another little sigh. The sun felt so nice on her face. She couldn’t even bring herself to worry about freckles.

“What will I do with you?” he said aloud. She heard him move, and then his voice was much closer to her ear. “I can keep coming up with new ways to compromise you.”

She giggled.

“Let me think. Number ten…”

“I do it, too,” she said, still happily studying the insides of her eyelids. The sunlight made them orangey red. It was such a nice, warm color.

“Do what?”

“Count in tens. It’s such a nice round number.”

He nipped her earlobe. “I like nice round things.”

“Stop.” But even she didn’t think she sounded like she meant it.

“Do you know how I know you’re going to marry me?”

She opened her eyes for that. He sounded quite sure of himself. “How?”

“Look at you. So happy and content. If you weren’t going to marry me, you’d be running about like a chicken-no, sorry, a turkey-yipping on about what have I done and what have you done and what have we done?”

“I’m thinking all those things,” she told him.

He snorted. “Right.”

“You don’t believe me.”

He kissed her. “Not for a second. But it hasn’t been a full day yet, and I’m a man of my word, so I won’t badger you.” He stood and then held out his hand to her.

Annabel took it and rose to her feet, smiling with disbelief. “That wasn’t badgering?”

“My dear Miss Winslow, I have not even begun to badger.” And then his eyes took on a most devilish light. “Hmmm.”

“What?”

He chuckled to himself as he led her up the hill to the path. “Has there ever been a Winslow Most Likely to Outrun a Badger competition?”

She laughed all the way back to Stonecross.