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Sebastian steps closer. “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

He reaches out, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. His touch is rough and devastatingly certain. “The boundary,” I murmur, a last-ditch effort that I know won’t work. “Our agreement.”

“I’m trying,” he whispers, leaning in. “But I’m losing it. Badly.”

He kisses me hungrily. His mouth tastes like scotch. The sky explodes above in a crescendo of white light, illuminating two people caught between the world we live in and the one we want.

“The access logs,” I whisper when he pulls back, though it’s the last thing I want to think about.

He doesn’t take his eyes from mine. “Let them wait.”

He takes my hand, his grip firm and possessive, and leads me back inside, past the laptops, past the spreadsheets, and past our boundaries.

The second we enter the bedroom, Sebastian presses himself against my back. I can feel his thighs brushing against mine, his breath warm against my neck, as his fingers find the straps of my dress. A shiver runs through me as he drags them off my shoulders, then follows the path with his fingertips. The soft fabric glides down and over my hips before puddling on the floor.

My heart beats faster, my breath hitching as his fingers press into my hips. The touch is thrilling, my skin breaking out in gooseflesh all over.

His fingers brush across my neck before untying the knot in my hair. He sweeps it over my shoulder, then presses sweet kisses along the skin there, the side of my neck, behind my ear, my shoulders.

“Sebastian.”

“Isabella,” he rasps, one hand slipping around to splay across my stomach and pull me flush to him, so I can feel how hard he is. “These curves drive me insane. Soft and full, like a Grecian statue. I can’t fucking get enough of them.”

The other hand cups a full breast, and desire floods my bloodstream.

“Bed,” I say.

His hands turn me roughly, and I realize he’s still dressed.

“Clothes off,” I order. He grins and I help him, running my hands over the taut muscles of his broad chest and firm ass once the fabric is gone.

We reach the bed, frantic for each other. When we land on the mattress, I wrap my legs around Sebastian’s hips.

“Jesus, Isabella,” he gasps. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

There is fire in his eyes, as he leans over me and explores every inch of my skin. He uses his lips and tongue with precision until I’m sweating, gasping, and squirming. He’s already working me into a frenzy, and we’ve barely even begun.

“I need you, Sebastian—now.”

I’m going to explode if he keeps teasing me.

He groans low in his throat, his eyes nearly black from desire. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He pushes into me, his arms curling under my thighs and lifting my ass. The new angle allows him to plunge his full length into me, causing me to arch my back and cry out.

“Fuck,” he hisses, holding still and squeezing his eyes shut. “Just give me a second.”

When he opens his eyes, our gazes lock, resulting in a wash of desire, passion, and want that heightens every movement, every sound, every touch a thousand-fold, until we’re both panting and crying out, lost in each other, lost in the pleasure, everything else dissolving around us.

My orgasm is explosive, encompassing my entire body. I’m still shaking, still dazed when Sebastian finishes with a roar, pulsing inside me.

We collapse into an exhausted, tangled, sweaty heap, our bodies and hands intertwined.

Sleep comes quickly.

A high-pitched squeal followed by a splash wakes me up.