Ruined (A Barnes Brothers novel) (7 page)

***

Sebastien Barnes was a rather befuddling drunk.

He swayed between carrying on a perfectly logical explanation to sullen silence, and although he’d stumbled a time or two, for the most part, if it wasn’t for the very clear lack of focus in his eyes, if Marin didn’t know him—and know him well—she might not have realized he was completely plowed.

But he spoke too slowly, thought things through a little too long and moved with too much precision. He was so arrogant that even when he was plastered, he didn’t want to look like an idiot. It was like it was coded into his DNA that he couldn’t be seen looking like a
mortal
.

Today wasn’t the first time she’d seen him wasted, but it was definitely a little different.

When he finally looked at her and told her to just leave, she’d almost done it.

But something was eating at him and friends didn’t leave friends to face their demons alone.

Instead of listening, she cupped his face. “I’m not leaving you alone like this. You need to talk to me.”

“Talk . . .” He murmured it, turning the word over in his mouth as though he was unfamiliar with it.

He shifted, using his body to nudge hers around until she was the one standing with her back to the railing and Sebastien crowded in closer.

Warning began to sound in her head.

Not that
fear
sort of warning.

No.

Her head was sending out a different sort of alarm—it was going 
Oh, shit . . .

Sebastien caught her wrists, tugging them away from his face. She curled her fingers into her palms so that when he guided them to his chest, her hands were balled up into fists.

“You want to know what’s wrong, Marin?” he asked, pressing his face into her hair. “Want to hear all my problems? You’re so determined to help me out . . . is that it?”

“I . . .” She paused, taking a shaking breath, a breath exploded out of her when he pushed his thigh between hers. She thought she’d quiver and just wilt away when he placed one big palm on her hip and tugged her closer to him, tucking her pelvis against his.

Marin’s brain started to melt.

Oh.
Shit
.

Against her hip, she felt his cock pulsing and in response, everything inside her began to heat and pulse in answer.

“See . . .” Sebastien’s lips were just a breath from her ear, his voice low and gritty and raw. “This is my problem. I’ve wanted only to sink my dick inside you for . . . hell, I can’t even remember when it started, but we’re talking
years
, sugar.
Years
. You get close to me and that scent of yours fills my head and it’s all I can do to focus. Now here I am, half-drunk and focus is one thing I don’t have. I can’t
focus
. I just want to
fuck
 . . . and who do you think it is I’m wanting to . . .
focus
on?”

He caught her earlobe, tugged.

Marin sucked in a gasp. Without realizing it, she uncurled her fists, flexed her fingers, then tightened them again, now clutching the material of his shirt.

“I either need to be inside you or unconscious and I know there’s really only one option. You made yourself clear enough last year.”

He pulled away, but not before he raked his teeth down her neck.

A hard shudder racked Marin all the way down to her toes.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Sebastien, either. His eyes gleamed, but all he did was put a few more feet between them. “I think I could have you now. You want me,” he said. “But you don’t like it. What’s really shitty is that you’re here because you feel sorry for me. I don’t need that, Marin. So just . . . leave. Please.”

He turned his back on her.

She should have done as he asked. Left. Come back later.

But he was wrong. At least partially.

“I don’t like it.”

Sebastien kept walking.

“But you’re wrong. I’m not
here
because I feel sorry for you. I’m here because you’re my friend and you need somebody.”

“Yeah.” He grunted the word out, like he’d expected her to say nothing less.

“If the situation was reversed and I was the one needing somebody, would
you
be there?”

That made him stop.

His hands went to his hips, a stance that drew the shirt tight across his shoulders—well,
tighter
. He’d bulked up over the past year and the faded cotton was already straining. As he tipped his head back and stared up at the cloudless blue sky, Marin moved to cut him off.

His bleary eyes met hers.

“I don’t like wanting you.”

“So you’ve said.” He sounded harsh and his eyes looked wounded.

“You . . . Sebastien, you complicate everything. Way too much.” She could have told him more, but now wasn’t the time. “But if you think I’m here because I feel
sorry
for you, then you’re making me out to be much nicer than I really am. If I feel pity for somebody, I might drop by every now and then, or send a check or flowers or candy, but I don’t . . .”

The words froze in her throat, because she wasn’t sure she wanted to give him that much. It was a huge piece of herself and suddenly, she was afraid to reveal it. Forcing a smile, she said, “I’m not going to invest the kind of time I do with you just out of pity. What we have is friendship. Not pity.”

An awkward silence stretched out.

After a moment, he gave a terse nod. “Fine. So we’re friends.”

He went to go around her.

She laid a hand on his arm, feeling like something between them was still rough and raw—damaged.

He froze.

Just back away, Marin . . .

Looking into his blue-green eyes, Marin felt her heart start to race. There was a wicked, wild heat in his gaze, the kind that she’d never felt in her entire life. And it was directed at her.

He dipped his head, pressed his lips to her ear. “You need to back away, Marin. The things I want from you are a lot more involved than friendship. My control is shit today. If you keep . . .” His mouth grazed hers.

She tasted whiskey and him.

The taste went straight to her head and she wondered if maybe
she
was the drunk one. Her control was suddenly more than a little shaky. Lifting her free hand, she placed it against his chest. “If I keep what, Sebastien?”

He groaned and leaned into her.

His weight had her stumbling back and he followed until she was pressed against the wall of the house, his weight securely pinning her in place.

The heat of him was shocking, the heavy width of his chest flattening her breasts.

“Tell me to stop, Marin,” he said in warning. “Or . . .”

This time, he pressed his lips to her neck.

She let her head fall to the side, eyes closed. This was stupid.

It was so stupid.

But as he skimmed his hands down her sides, she reached for his biceps and clung. Hard muscle bunched under her fingers. He moved between her thighs more fully and through her skirt, she felt more of him and her head started to spin.

“Tell me . . .”

She reached up and shoved her fingers into his hair, tugging his head back.

His gaze focused on her face. “Do you see me?” she demanded.

“All the fucking time.” He bit her lower lip, then stroked the small hurt with his tongue.

She almost collapsed into a whimpering puddle of want, but forced herself to keep her eyes on his face, searching for . . . something. He was steady on his feet. He was looking straight at her.

When he kissed her, Marin felt her toes start to curl and she decided she was done trying to think.

Her hands slid under his shirt.

***

Sebastien had been waiting for them to press against his chest and shove him away, but instead, she curled her fingers in the hair she found and tugged.

He nipped her lower lip again, briefly wondered if he’d fallen asleep somewhere between the deck and his bedroom and was now dreaming.

Maybe.

Just maybe.

If so . . .

Sliding one hand down her thigh, he began to gather up fistfuls of the loose, flowing skirt, baring long, long legs. The frothy, fussy material was so female, so Marin, and the thought of having her just like that, there where they stood, went straight to his head. He found the waistband of her panties and slid his hand inside, seeking out her curls and swearing when he found her already wet.

She closed around the two fingers he thrust into her, a low moan vibrating out of her and he kissed her roughly. “Again . . . Moan for me again.”

He screwed his fingers in and out until she did, again . . . and again. He wasn’t even satisfied when she came against his hand, though. He jerked at her panties until the fragile silk tore. Her eyes widened, then a faint grin curled her lips. “They would have come off pretty easy.”

“That requires that I stop touching.” He picked her up, guiding her legs around his hips. Her skirt still tangled between them, but he left it alone. As soon as that skirt went up, he was coming
inside
her, and then he’d just be coming and it would be all over.

Not yet.

Not yet.

He went for the hem of her shirt instead and peeled it upward, slowly, baring the long, elegant torso he’d seen hundreds of times, during take after take when they’d shot scenes for the movies they’d done together.

But this was different.

Letting the tank fall to the floor, he reached for the front clasp of her bra, staring into her eyes as he stripped it away. Her face was flushed, a few stray locks of her hair escaping the clip to frame her face. “Take your hair down.”

She reached up for the hair clip. As the golden strands fell to her shoulders, he took the clip from her clenched fist and tossed it over his shoulder. With his hands, he smoothed her hair down. The ends of her hair brushed against her nipples and he let the flats of his hands brush against her, wishing his head was clearer. “Wanna remember,” he muttered, more to himself than her.

“Please . . .” She arched against him, pushing her breasts more completely into his palms.

Her nipples were tight and hard, stabbing into his palms and he wanted to curl his tongue around each of them and suck until she gasped out his name.

So that’s what he did.

She was crying out and twisting against him within minutes and the feel of her squirming against his cock turned the material between them into an unbearable barrier.

He kissed a burning path up to her mouth. When she licked his lower lip, he sucked her tongue into his mouth, bit her lightly before breaking the kiss. Panting, he stared at her as he eased her legs down from his hips, unzipping his jeans. He’d showered earlier, skipped underwear because he hadn’t had anybody in to do laundry in a while and was too lazy to do it himself.

Marin’s breath hitched. He watched as she slid her tongue across her lips, and then let her gaze drift down.

When she reached out a hand and closed it around him, tugging him free of his jeans, Sebastien groaned and thrust into her touch.

She ran her thumb across the head while he grabbed her skirt and dragged it up.

“No more,” he said, brushing her hair aside and boosting her up. “I want to feel you wrapped around me. Now.”

“Sebastien . . .”

They came together; both of them moaned.

For Sebastien, it was the sweetest sensation ever, and he kept his eyes on Marin’s face. The sight of her eyes going wide and glassy was enough to draw a deep, vicious satisfaction from him.

Bracing her hips with his forearm, he slid his free hand up her torso, closed it over her neck. With his thumb, he nudged her chin up. “Open,” he rasped against her mouth. “Let me taste you.”

She sighed against his lips and did just that.

He surged up into her as he sank his tongue inside her mouth. She slid hers against his as she moved to meet him, thrust for thrust.

The hot, slick silk of her gripped him tight.

He rode her hard, all the buried need he had for her tearing out of him with hooked, greedy claws.

She cried out against his mouth, then tore away, panting for air.

He pushed his thumb into her mouth and she bit down, then sucked on him.

Swearing, he pulled out of her and swung her up into his arms and turned, starting to walk.

“Damn it, you . . .” She barely had the time to swear at him before he had her stretched out on the wide, plush couch just a few feet inside the living room area.

Coming down on top of her, he caught her knees over his elbows, opening her completely. He stayed on his knees, steadying his cock as he entered her once more, slowly this time.

The curls shielding her pussy were a darker gold than her hair and slick with need. He slid his thumb through them and lifted it to his lips before looking back into her eyes. “More,” he demanded before driving into her.

The noise that left her echoed throughout his very being, teasing the monster his hunger had become.

Marin’s hands curled into fists, digging into the dark, plush material of the couch while she arched her head back.

Bending over her, he raked his teeth down the elegant line, stopping at the mad flutter of her pulse.

Another deep, hard stroke.

Another.

Another.

She grabbed his arms, her nails digging in. “Please . . .” she begged.

Sliding his hand between them, he sought out the hard bud of her clit and stroked, working her until he found the right rhythm, and then he took her straight into a hard, rough orgasm, chasing his own as well.

When it ended, he sank down on top of her and whispered her name.

Marin’s arms came around him. “Sebastien . . .”

“Hmmm.”

She’d said please . . . had begged for him.

He was almost positive all of this was real.

Dimly, Sebastien thought about kissing her, begging her for . . . something, too. To stay. Something.

“Marin?”

“Yeah?” She combed her fingers through his hair again and he smiled. That felt . . .

She nudged his shoulder. “What is it, Seb?”

Sleep rushed up, grabbing him.

Late afternoon gave way to twilight and still Sebastien slept.

Marin had slid away from him earlier—once to go to the bathroom and clean up. They hadn’t used anything and she’d done a mental check, figured they were okay. Her period was due soon and she was regular as the day was long.

There were other concerns, but while Sebastien was an awful flirt, he wasn’t irresponsible.

Neither was she.

Well, not
normally
.

She’d grabbed her bra and tank top on the way back, then laid down next to him.

She’d gotten up a second time to silence her phone after JD texted her.

He’d have to wait.

She had other things going on now.

Curled up around Sebastien, she pressed her face to his back and tried yet again to figure out how she felt.

She’d slept with Sebastien.

Okay,
slept
didn’t describe it. She’d had raw, earth-shattering sex with him. The best sex of her life and she wasn’t certain how she should feel about it because Sebastien hadn’t exactly been sober.

That was something of a problem.

He talked to her like he was borderline obsessed and she got it, because while she’d claimed she was coming over here purely out of friendship, she’d drifted past friendship a while ago. She’d had an unhealthy obsession with him before and this . . . whatever it was . . . had just grown.

They needed to figure out just what it was they had going on.

Once he wakes up. Once he’s sober.
She had to make sure he planned on
staying
sober. She wasn’t going to get involved with somebody who had a drinking problem, but she thought maybe he was ready to quit.

A low, rough noise came from him and she kissed his back, smiling to herself.

Yeah, they were going to—

“No.”

The word, loud and clear, caught her off guard.

Sitting up, she looked down at him. “Seb . . .” His name trailed off as she saw that his eyes were still closed. Mouth tight, he gave a single shake of his head and said it again, “No.”

Reaching up, she stroked his brow. “It’s okay,” she murmured, uncertain what it was he denied. At her voice, his brow smoothed and the tight fist that lay clenched by his head relaxed.

He turned toward her.

She stiffened in surprise when he grabbed her, pulling her against him like a teddy bear, but then she smiled, stroking his cheek. Nightmares, maybe. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a reason. Although she could have thumped him for going out and digging into those videos—finding more fodder for the things he saw in his head already.

“It’s okay, Sebastien,” she said again softly. Tucking her head against him, she started to close her eyes.

She was almost asleep when she had the odd sensation that somebody was staring at her.

She opened her eyes.

Sebastien was staring at her in the twilight, his eyes glassy. “I thought he hurt you.”

“That must have been some nightmare,” she said softly. Resting a hand on his cheek, she pressed her lips to his. “Nobody hurt me. I’m right here, Sebastien.”

“Not close enough.” He pulled her closer, and then rolled on top of her.

She gasped when he probed between her thighs, slipping inside with little warning, but then he kissed her and she groaned, pushing her hands into his hair and clinging tight.

He thrust into her hard and fast, moving higher on her so that each movement had him riding against her pelvis. She whimpered and drove her heels into the cushions of the couch, lifting up to each thrust.

Sebastien tore away and shoved up onto his hands, his eyes staring off ahead.

“Sebastien . . .” She reached up and touched his cheek.

He kissed her roughly and slid his hand between them, circling her clit and pushing her into orgasm, almost before she was ready. His cock pulsed, and then she felt the hot splash of semen.

He pulled out and dropped his head down on her breasts, feeling oddly heavy.

“Sebastien.”

He didn’t respond.

“You’re big on pillow talk,” she said ruefully.

He was also squishing the air right out of her. She had to push and wiggle out from under him, because he seemed to have already dropped straight into sleep. As twilight sank deeper around them, he rolled onto his side and threw an arm over her waist.

“Glad you’re safe . . .”

She smiled.

The smile died, though, a moment later.

“. . . Monica.”

***

She couldn’t drive fast enough.

Sebastien’s home in Malibu seemed even farther from her place than usual and she had to remind herself to slow down, remind herself to pay attention as she drove home.

She’d put the top down, twisted her hair up, and had the radio blasting. It was an attempt to make herself feel a little less foolish. Reckless was fine. Foolish wasn’t.

But she wasn’t having a lot of luck.

He’d thought she was Monica.

She’d been convinced . . .

“Convinced of
what
?” Tightening her hands on the steering wheel, she blew out a breath, and then, because she still felt like she was running short on oxygen, she took another one.

She didn’t want to answer the question she’d asked herself, but she wasn’t going to be able to ignore it.

She’d been convinced there was something between them.

Over the past year, she’d found herself becoming more and more attached to Sebastien—something she’d known would happen. A year ago, she hadn’t even wanted to consider it, but everything had changed that day when he flung himself, bare-handed, at an armed man, determined to save the woman who’d turned him away.

Marin had called him shallow and maybe he had been, a little. But a shallow man wouldn’t have so easily risked everything the way Sebastien had.

Whatever she’d thought they’d had, though . . .

It wasn’t there.

He’d lain on that couch with her and called her Monica. Apparently, he had nightmares, or at least he dreamed about what happened. And he dreamed about the woman he’d once loved.

Marin didn’t want to think about some of the images
she
had seen in the months since it all happened. The most poignant one wasn’t on most of the more mainstream media sites, but plenty of independent places had posted the image of the dead actress, while Sebastien lay collapsed at her side, one hand on her cheek.

That was the image she had in mind as she parked her car.

Sebastien was still grieving over Monica. She could understand his grieving. He’d never really given himself any time to say good-bye, to let go. And if he was having nightmares . . . ?

She knew he blamed himself, just as she knew he shouldn’t.

But if he was dreaming about another woman, still grieving for her, still in
love
with her . . .

“What was I thinking?” Marin would have laughed if she hadn’t been hurting so much inside. “You’re getting too old to be naive.”

Tears pricked the backs of her eyes but she didn’t let them fall. Bad enough she’d been so foolish, but she’d be damned if she cried about it.