chapter 69
Elena's POV:
I went still for a moment, processing the raw vulnerability in his voice.
Then, carefully extricating myself from his embrace, I shifted so I could look at him properly while speaking.
"I just went to a university reunion," I said softly, my voice carrying what I hoped was the right balance of reassurance and gentle explanation. "At Blue Moon restaurant. My phone died sometime during the evening—I didn't even notice until I needed to call for a ride home."
Sebastian's arms remained around me.
"I know," he said finally, his thumb tracing a small circle against my shoulder blade through the silk of my pajamas. "I'm glad you texted me. "
There was something almost careful in his tone, as though he were choosing each word with deliberate precision. "If it's alright with you, though—maybe next time you could let me know when you're going out? "
The request was reasonable, couched in vulnerability rather than demand, and I found myself nodding before I'd fully considered the implications.
The truth was, I had gone to that dinner partly to escape thinking about him, to reclaim some piece of my old life that existed independent of Sebastian Vane and the complicated tangle of emotions he represented.
But when Vivienne had offered that ride, when the choice became sitting in a car with her and Lucas or finding my own way home, I'd instinctively reached for my phone and realized with startling clarity that his was the only number I knew by heart anymore.
I didn't tell him that part, of course.
As if summoned by the settling quiet between us, my stomach chose that moment to emit an embarrassingly loud rumble that seemed to echo in the stillness of our bedroom.
I pressed a hand to my abdomen, heat rushing to my cheeks as Sebastian's expression immediately shifted from vulnerable uncertainty to something closer to amused concern.
"Hungry?" he asked, and there was a lightness in his voice that hadn't been there moments before.
I nodded, suddenly aware that I'd barely touched my food during the dinner, too caught up in verbal sparring with Vivienne and managing the awkward social dynamics to actually eat anything substantial.
Now, with the adrenaline of conflict fading and my body's more immediate needs reasserting themselves, I realized I was genuinely ravenous—pregnancy having amplified my appetite to sometimes startling degrees.
Sebastian was already moving, unfolding himself from the bed with that fluid grace that never failed to catch my attention. "Wait here," he said, pressing a quick kiss to my temple before disappearing toward the living room.
He returned minutes later carrying an elegant white bakery box tied with pale blue ribbon, the kind of expensive packaging that immediately suggested French pastries and probably cost more than most people spent on groceries in a week.
When he lifted the lid, the scent of butter and vanilla and delicate spun sugar filled the air, and I felt my eyes widen with genuine delight.
"Ladurée," I breathed, recognizing the distinctive macarons and éclairs nestled in their individual paper cups. "Sebastian, when did you—?"
"On my way home," he said, settling back onto the bed beside me and offering me the box with something in his expression.
"I thought... maybe we could share dessert when I got back, and then we could talk about giving each other less space and more..." He gestured vaguely between us, his usual articulate confidence stumbling slightly over whatever he'd been planning to say.
Understanding hit me with a small pang of guilt.
He'd come home planning seduction via French pastries, probably hoping to bridge the strange distance that had grown between us over the past few days, only to find the apartment empty and his wife apparently vanished into the London night.
No wonder he'd looked like he was barely holding himself together when he'd appeared outside that restaurant.
"Thank you," I said softly, selecting a rose-flavored macaron and biting into it with perhaps more enthusiasm than was strictly elegant. The delicate sweetness burst across my tongue, and I couldn't quite suppress the small sound of pleasure that escaped me. "This is perfect. "
Sebastian watched me eat with an intensity, as though he were building some internal database of what brought me joy.
When I finished the last bite of éclair, I unconsciously licked the trace of cream from my lips and smoothed a satisfied hand over my stomach, feeling genuinely content for the first time all evening.
"Full now?" he asked, though there was something in his voice—a deeper note that made me look up to meet his gaze.
I nodded, suddenly aware of the way his attention had shifted, the heat that had entered his dark eyes as he watched me with that familiar intensity that had nothing to do with pastries.
"Good," he murmured, his voice dropping to a register that sent warmth curling through my chest. "Because now it's my turn."
The meaning behind his words was unmistakable, and I felt my breath catch as understanding hit me, heat rushing to my cheeks at the deliberate hunger in his expression.
Sebastian leaned forward slowly, his thumb brushing against the corner of my mouth where a trace of cream still lingered, before replacing it with his lips in a kiss that was both gentle and deliberately thorough.
When he deepened it, I could taste the sweetness on his tongue mixing with mine, and when he finally pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, there was a satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Delicious," he said softly, his gaze holding mine with an intimacy that made my face burn even hotter. "I think I prefer it this way."
What followed was a slow burn of kisses and careful touches, our bodies warming against each other as Sebastian's hands mapped familiar territory with reverent patience.
But as much as desire built between us, there was an invisible boundary we both felt—the growing curve of my belly serving as a gentle reminder of the life we'd created, making him increasingly cautious about how far he could push, how much he could take.
When Sebastian braced himself above me, his arms creating a protective cage on either side of my body, I could see the raw heat burning in his eyes even as perspiration traced slow paths down the sharp angles of his face.