A/N: To the loyal readers of this book—you've given me so much with your dedication and enthusiasm for a story that is dear to my heart. This is the second to the last chapter of the first part. At this point, I'm thinking of grouping the two together so people can smoothly continue on with Cassandra and Sebastian's lovestory so don't despair. It's not over yet. LOL!

Please vote and comment. As always, they keep me inspired to keep writing. I hope you like this chapter. It's one of my favorites.

***

I felt him before I saw him.

A small smile curved on the corner of my mouth as the slow, lazy caress of Sebastian’s lips along my neck registered. 

My back was pressed against his warm solid body and our legs were tangled together under the covers that only came up to our waist. His arm was draped over my waist, his hand full of my left breast.

His fingers were gently tugging at my nipple, his hips lightly pushing against my bottom, his erection hot, hard and heavy against the bare cheeks.

“If this is how you plan to wake me in the morning, we may never get out of bed,” I murmured, wiggling slightly to allow him to slip another arm under me. His hand switched with the other at my breasts, the freed one now moving down the slopes of my belly to rest between my legs.

“Possibly.” His lips dipped behind my left ear, his tongue tracing the curve and sending a ripple of sensation down my spine. “I can’t seem to get enough of you.”

I cracked open one eye and spied the time on the alarm clock next to the bed.

Five-thirty.

Pale, pinkish morning light was seeping through the gaps between the curtains, illuminating the room softly.

I couldn’t remember what time we drifted off after Sebastian carried me back to the bed after our bath.

He wanted me to sleep and rest until the soreness subsided which I thought was really sweet of him.

Apparently, a few hours was the most he could manage.

I parted my legs and let his hand slip down further, quickly discovering the evidence of my own stirring desire.

“I want you again, Cassandra,” he whispered, his fingers sliding deep inside me. “Can you take me?”

“Yes,” I whispered back, gasping at the loss of his fingers when he pulled them out. 

I felt him shift behind me and I choked out a cry at the sudden thrust of his cock between my legs from behind that drove him home in one stroke.

There was only a slight sting from the rawness on my skin between my thighs but it quickly subsided when he slipped a hand under my left knee to raise my leg, supporting its weight as he plunged in and out of me.

His movement had acquired a roughness that betrayed his fraying control.

“I’ve been watching you sleep,” he rasped into my ear. “Gazing at your beautiful, naked body. Wondering how I managed to keep away from you all this time. Clutching myself hard so I wouldn’t ram myself into you while you’re sleeping peacefully.”

I flushed at his words even though they fueled the heat that was spreading throughout my body.

With a sudden burst of strength I didn’t know I had, I swept my body over his to pin him down beneath me as I pulled myself up and twisted around to face him, never once losing my wet grip on his cock.

“Damn, Cassandra,” he breathed as he leaned back and watched me hover above him.

I gripped his elbows for support as I followed the tune of my body and found myself lowering my hips over his rigid organ. I gasped at the fullness and I clenched my insides together to feel every hard inch of him, tearing a tortured cry from his lips.

He clutched my hips and pushed me up until only the head of his cock remained in me before hurtling me back down just as he arched up his pelvis to meet me in a savage thrust.

My eyes squeezed shut as my head fell back, lost in sexual abandon.

As we spiraled into a shattering crescendo, I gave myself up to Sebastian’s complete possession of my body, mind, heart and soul.

There will never be anything like this for me.

As we crashed back down to real world and Sebastian collected me in his arms, cradling me tightly inside them and tucking my head under his chin as if he would never let go, I knew he felt the same way.

***

“How many women have you slept with?”

Sebastian looked up from the leaf pattern he was painting along my right hip and raised a brow at me. “You don’t really want to talk about this.”

It was later that day and we were still in bed, naked and tangled with the sheets, the floor cluttered with empty plates, glasses, clothes and art supplies. 

The room smelled of sex, paint and bacon.

I smiled impishly and reached out to touch his hair. “Yes, I do. You know how many men I’ve slept with. It’s only fair that I know your number too.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Would you hate me if I told you I’ve lost count? I slept with them because they relieved me sexually. There was nothing else to it but mutual physical satisfaction.”

I frowned. “After the four times you’ve made love to me since midnight, I have a hard time understanding why you speak of sex with other women so coldly. Didn’t you feel anything other than an ache in your cock?”

He narrowed his eyes at my blunt term but he sat up and set aside his brush and palette on the floor. “I didn’t like relationships and anything that led to them—tender feelings, for one. I turned off that part of me a long time ago but my body couldn’t shut down along with it. So I had sex because I needed to—it gave me the release that kept my temper even.”

“You sound like you didn’t like it at all.”

A ghost of smile fleetingly touched his lips. “I hated it. Not the act itself—I won’t be a hypocrite and claim that I don’t have a hedonistic streak in me. But I hated how I felt afterwards. It made me feel like the man I swore I would never be.”

My eyes widened but I didn’t say anything.

We were at the verge of something here and I had a feeling this was a very important piece of the puzzle that was Sebastian Vice.

“My father was the worst sort of philanderer,” he started in a cold voice devoid of any emotion, his expression hardening. “He had his prick between every pair of female legs that came his way. He didn’t care if he wrecked marriages or robbed young girls of their virginity. I don’t know what prompted him to marry my mother but he did and after he got tired of her, he went back to debauching women left and right.”

Sebastian looked away and gazed out to the ocean outside the window. “If my mother wasn’t painting, she was crying. I was very young then but I remember that. She wouldn’t stop crying. She cried while eating, she cried while curling up in bed alone, crying when she held me in her arms. I proudly showed her every single thing I painted and she would smile for a fraction of a second before tears would start rolling down her cheeks.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, certain that it would’ve been a sob.

“I barely saw my father. He always sent me away to my mother’s side.” Sebastian’s shoulders sagged a little but he took a deep breath and straightened as if his spine had turned into steel. “One day, I went to tell him about mother crying. I was maybe four or five then. I walked in on him in his office with a woman saddled in his lap and they were both grunting like rutting pigs. He never saw me. I ran and and went straight into my mother’s arms but I wouldn’t tell her what I saw. In my young mind, I knew I had seen something bad—something I wasn’t supposed to see. Something that would make Mother cry again.”

He fell silent for a moment and I feared he wouldn’t continue.

I sat up, letting the covers heap around my waist, and reached out to touch his shoulder.

He glanced at me and his face was that of a complete stranger—shuttered, cold and sinister—and I felt the instinct to draw my hand back but as his gaze lowered to where I touched him, I held on, inexplicably aware that to sever our connection would be to abandon him to his demons.

He blinked and his expression softened.

“Anyway, she died of a broken heart,” he said, his tone flat and resigned, although I didn’t miss the stark pain that flashed briefly in his glittering green eyes. “Despite what happened...”

His voice trailed off and I could see him swallowing hard, his face pale. 

I leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his arm.

He met my eyes and his were full of sorrow. “Despite what happened, my father never stopped doing what he did best. The lives he destroyed signified nothing. I vowed I would never be like him but I fail each time I give in to my body’s needs because as much as I hate the blood that flows through me, I am my father’s son.”

“You’re nothing like him,” I said in a choked voice, overwhelmed by the need to defend him from himself. “Not at all, Sebastian.”

He smiled sadly. “I had fancied telling myself that a few times but it was too easy to stumble down the same beaten path than forge your own. That’s why I hated it. I hated how it made me feel afterwards. I hated who I was in those moments of weakness, when my lust got the better of me. Pretty soon, I only slept with women who wanted exactly the same thing—a simple, straightforward, casual fuck with no strings attached—so then I wouldn’t feel like I’ve used them. And if I didn’t promise anything to a woman as my father did to my mother, I would never be in a position to hurt them when I broke those promises just as my father had.”

Tears sprung in my eyes and I fought them back.

“I don’t think what you and I had was just a simple, straightforward, casual fuck with no strings attached,” I mumbled broodingly, my heart heavy. 

“No, it wasn’t,” he said softly, tilting my chin up so I could look at him. His smile was now tender, his eyes warm and affectionate. “And that’s the difference between you and all those women, Cassandra. You’re the only one I want to hold afterwards. I want to kiss you, talk to you, make you smile. It’s different because with you, I care more than I ever have my whole life. This is the first time I’ve felt that making love was a natural, inevitable expression of my feelings for you—and not an item on my weekly checklist to tick off so I could continue on with my regular routine without ripping anyone’s head off.”

I bit my lip and nodded as he brushed a tear that had rolled down my cheek. 

He closed his eyes briefly and kissed the tear stains away. “Don’t doubt that I want you badly because I do.  What I feel for you simply makes sex mean more to me. I’m always burning for you but more than that, I’m crazy about you, Cassandra. I’m drawn by your old soul, your playfulness, your sharp and witty mind, your artless allure, your fierceness. Sex is just like icing on the cake for me when it comes to you. I want it but it’s not all of it.”

I gave him a wobbly smile before burrowing my face into his neck. “That should be reason enough to convince you that you are not like your father. The fact that you’re capable of this—of something that he never found before he died—means that you are a better man. You know your sins, you suffer for them. You’re not turning away from a chance to do differently.”

Sebastian pressed a kiss on the crown of my head, his hand slowly running up and down my naked back. “If I’m not giving up so easily, it’s because you won’t let me. You expect me to be better, you expect me to do right. It scares the hell out of me after a lifetime of being my worst but I want it as much you do—for you. For us.”

If I didn’t love Sebastian already, I would’ve loved him at that moment.

For the first time in weeks, I felt real hope that this summer love affair was going to last a lifetime.

***

“So where are we going?” I asked nervously as I stepped out of my bedroom where I’d gone in to change into my red dress and the white leather slingback sandals Sebastian gave me for the fourth of July party.

He was leaning against the wall across my door, dressed in a dark gray suit with a white silk shirt he’d left open at the collar. His hair was combed back, his chiseled jaw shaved and his sensual mouth set in a tight, impatient line.

He looked sinful and solemn until he looked up and smiled, his green eyes bright and appreciative as they slowly took me in.

I blushed but forced myself not to lower my head in a self-conscious gesture.

The dress was simple and adorned only by a thin white satin ribbon I found among the crafts station and stitched around the waist to balance out the white sandals. I brushed my hair down and let it float in loose waves around my back and finished the look with the only jewelry my mother left me—a pair of big pearl earrings framed by a cluster of small diamonds around it.

I didn’t have dressy evening bag to use so I took the discarded sleeves I’d snipped off from the red dress and stitched up a small fabric pouch I strung up with the same white ribbon. It provided enough room for my cell, IDs, compact and lip balm.

“You’re lovely,” was the first thing Sebastian said as he straightened up and stepped towards me, his hand reaching up to catch a lock of my hair. 

I smiled up at him and closed my eyes briefly as he swooped down for a quick, breathtaking kiss.

“Thank you,” I breathed softly, placing a hand on his lapel. “I’m not sure where we’re going but I hope I’m not over or under-dressed for it.”

He shook his head and moved his hand down so his fingers now traced the curved neckline. “You’re perfect. You’re perfect and you’re mine.”

Sebastian looked like he was in a bit of a trance as he said that and laughter bubbled up in my throat, drawing him out of it.

He blinked and smiled slowly before stepping back and offering his arm.

I asked him again where he was taking me but he said it was a surprise, that we would get there in time. Jennison drove us into Cobalt Bay and I watched the scenery throughout the half hour drive, admiring the golden tinge of the summer evening sun on the palm trees and the specks of ocean we could still see from the distance.

It was around seven on a Sunday evening and the roads were empty. Businesses closed early and most residents around here spend the evening having family dinners or preparing for work the next day.

Jennison dropped us off at the entrance of Baywalk, a long stretch of boardwalk that ran alongside downtown Cobalt Bay’s coastline. 

My heart quickened. 

I remembered being young and spending weekend afternoons strolling along here with my mother .

It would be packed with people, young and old, looking out into the ocean, dining at some of the seaside cafes, enjoying the street entertainment that ranged from solo musicians to circus performers and shopping all sorts of kitschy items from a smattering of vendors who laid out their goods on blankets and towels along the sand off the main walk.

Tonight didn’t seem too busy but the main boardwalk seemed fully alive with the torch lamps all lit up, the sides lined up with the usual vendors and performers.

“What are we doing here?” I asked, looking up at Sebastian who led us down the concrete steps that led to the long stretch of large, mosaic tiles in an eclectic variety of colors and designs that made Baywalk such a popular art piece. 

“Just passing through,” he answered softly. “When I was a child, my mother would take me here for a walk. She barely went out when we were staying at Cove but she would venture out here with me. She said it made her live in a different world for a little bit. She would bring her sketchbook to take some inspiration. One time, she toted her easel and paints over and spent the afternoon here painting sailboats.”

I smiled and squeezed his arm. 

He spoke fondly of his mother. There was the unmistakable hint of sadness in his voice and a tremor that betrayed old pain but he smiled and his green eyes brightened at the recollection.

“I’m not surprised she loved this place,” I said. “My mother did too. We spent hours on the weekends frolicking here. When we were here, her face would change. She didn’t look tired or stressed or lonely—she smiled and laughed and did silly things. It was as if she became a completely different person.”

Sebastian gazed down at me, his expression tender. “It sounds like both our mothers escaped their realities each time they came here. The hard part was that we, only children then, saw the difference and didn’t know what to do about it.”

My brief glance at his profile was big enough a window to see into the torment Sebastian lived with all his life—the memory of many things gone wrong and his helplessness at making them right.

All his life, he’d been paying for sins that weren’t his and he was still nowhere near redemption I knew he didn’t believe he deserved. 

My heart sank.

Until he found that peace with himself, he was never going to be free of the shadows and he would always be afraid of the light. I was prepared to love him with all that I had but how long would it be until he finally believed it was real and that he was just as capable of it as I was?

“Cassandra?”

His voice nudged me out of my thoughts and I forced out a small smile before pressing my cheek against his forearm. “I was just thinking that if our mothers could see us now, they’d both be happy to see us here.”

“My mother would probably say, ‘Excellent taste, son’,” he said with a low chuckle, catching my hand that clung to his arm and raising it to his lips. “I think she would’ve liked you very much.”

I smiled. “My mom would probably congratulate me too for such a prime catch. She always thought I should be patient and wait for my prince charming.”

Sebastian arched a brow. “I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint your mother. Even if prince charming came charging down on a horse to sweep you off your feet, I’m not giving you away.”

I laughed. “I meant you as the prince charming, silly.”

“But I’m not a prince charming, Cassandra,” he said with a faint smile, his expression dimming with a hint of regret. “I’m more like the dragon who will keep you prisoner in my high tower. I know you deserve someone better but I’m too selfish to let you go. I’m sorry that you will miss out on your fairytale but I can’t lose you.”

“Hmm,” I murmured as I paused and turned to look at him, my hand sliding up to rest on the curve where his neck and shoulder met. “That’s okay. I already have my fairytale and my dark prince who thinks himself a beast too monstrous for his princess. What he doesn’t know is that the princess has eyes that see the real prince inside who will slay dragons for her because he is strong and valiant and loves her very much.”

My cheeks burned the moment I realized what I said in the last part of my statement. 

I waited for him to shrug me off and scoff at my assumption—the old Sebastian would. 

But in the past few weeks we’ve spent together, there was no other assumption I could make but that. The only question was whether he had the courage to admit it.

His green eyes never wavered as they gazed over my face, the back of his fingers gently brushing my cheek.

“Only because the princess deserves a prince who will protect and love her for always,” he said softly before leaning down to settle a slow, tender kiss on my mouth.

The breath I held in me loosened—it was neither an admission nor a denial but it didn’t scorn the idea that he