The Education of Sebastian (42 page)

“I don’t know, Caro,” said Sebastian, scanning the menu hanging up outside, “it’s not that cheap.”

“I know it’s not, but tonight I don’t care: tonight I start my life over. Thanks to you.”

He smiled down at me and his eyes glowed with love.

“Really?”

“Truly. We’re celebrating… and I’ve got another surprise. But that’s for later.”

I tried to tug him into the café but he resisted. “Tell me!” he said his voice suddenly husky.

I shook my head and smiled. “No, it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.”

“Caro, you’re driving me nuts! Please!”

“Well, okay, as I don’t want to be the cause of your insanity… I’ve booked a hotel for us.”

His breath hitched in his throat and his eyes widened. “A hotel?”

I nodded and had to swallow when I saw his expression change from love to lust.

“Let’s go now,” he said, pulling on my hand.

“No, I want to eat – and you said yourself that you’re starving.”

“We’ll get take-out!” he growled, tugging me down the street.

I planted my feet and tugged back. “Sebastian, no!”

He stopped, staring at me in hurt surprise.

“Why not?”

I couldn’t help but smile at the expression on his face, but my voice was serious. I’d spent quite a while thinking about this.

“Because after tonight we won’t be able to afford to do this again for ages and for tonight, at least, I don’t want to hide. I just want to have a nice meal in a nice café… I just want to have… a date. With you.”

He grinned. “A date? Yeah, I’d like that. With sex after?”

I laughed. “Oh, yes.
A lot
of sex after.”

We sat at a table in the window and the elderly waiter lit a candle and stuck it in an old wine bottle encrusted with wax.

I spoke to him politely in Italian and he smiled hugely.

His accent was very strong and he explained he was from Trapani on the toe of Sicily. I could tell Sebastian was finding it hard to follow the conversation so I switched to English.

“We hope to visit Sicily one day soon,” I said, throwing a quick glance at Sebastian who grinned back.

“Ah, then you must visit my home town and wish her well for me,” said the old man, “and you will weep before the beauty of our Madonna di Trapani.”

He wandered away, happily chattering to himself, as he reminisced about his home town. I smiled at Sebastian as he held my hand across the table, but then his eyes widened in shock.

“You took off your rings,” he whispered.

I nodded silently.

It was true: earlier today, while I was pacing around the house, I happened to glance down at my hand and saw the rings – I mean really saw them, and everything they stood for. I slipped off my engagement ring, three small diamonds in a channel setting, and then took off the plain, gold wedding band. I held them in my hand, wondering what to do with them. I considered leaving them on the kitchen table, or on the cabinet next to David’s side of the bed, but in the end, I dropped them into my change purse.

My hand felt so light without my wedding rings, it was as if it could float away, but Sebastian held my left hand to his cheek and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“You’re really leaving him,” he said and I wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question.

“Yes. You didn’t think I would?”

He looked ashamed. “I did and I didn’t. I kept hoping but… I knew how much you’d be giving up. And… and I knew I couldn’t offer you anything…”

I held up my hand to stop him.

“That’s not true, Sebastian. You’ve already given me so much – you just don’t realize it.”

He shook his head impatiently. “Don’t try to make me feel better because…”

I interrupted him again. “I’m not! You’ve given me back my self-esteem and you’ve given me hope for the future. You’ve given me love. You’ve given me yourself. There’s nothing else I want.”

He reached across the table and held his hand against my face. I leaned into him and closed my eyes.

“I love you,” he said.

The waiter interrupted us with a polite cough, a smile and a wink at Sebastian who grinned back.

Sebastian pointblank refused to order antipasti and I couldn’t tell if it was because he was anxious about the cost or because he wanted to get back to the hotel as quickly as possible. Either way, I couldn’t persuade him to change his mind so I had to abandon my thoughts of caponata and ordered the couscous for secondi with half a carafe of the house red.

I didn’t mind: he wasn’t the only one who was thinking about a king-size hotel bed with crisp, white sheets and a double shower. Hmm, sheets I wasn’t going to have to wash: what a treat. Hmm, soapy, wet Sebastian in a double shower. Wait! Wasn’t there a large bath, too, or did I just dream that? Damn! I couldn’t remember. That was really going to bug me.

“What’s the matter? You look kinda pissed,” he said worriedly. “I don’t mind if you have a starter.”

I looked up, confused, then I smiled at him.

“No, that’s fine: I was just trying to remember whether or not there was a bath in the room.”

“That’s what you were thinking about?”

For a second he looked slightly shocked then a wicked grin lit up his face.

“Cool!”

I was distracted momentarily when I caught sight of someone turning away from the window, a glimpse of long blonde hair…

“What were you thinking of doing if there is a bath?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Well, I thought I’d start with getting really dirty… and then getting really clean.”

He swallowed and blinked several times. “How dirty?”

Now he had me on the back foot because I really didn’t know. David was nothing if not traditional. It was only over the last few weeks with Sebastian that I’d begun to explore the possibilities of pleasure.

I looked directly at him. “Let’s find out together.”

His answering smile was glorious.

The waiter arrived with our half carafe and poured a glass for each of us. I could see Sebastian was taken aback and then I remembered his age. How ridiculous that I could forget it, given the unusual circumstances of our relationship. Clearly the waiter was quite prepared to believe that Sebastian was over 21 – he hadn’t even given us a second glance. It made me feel – hopeful.

Sebastian picked up his wineglass and ran his finger around the rim. For a second I imagined him dressed in a black tux and white shirt, sitting in a private box at La Scala. I picked up my glass and angled it towards him.

“Salute!”

He smiled and clinked his glass against mine, “To us.”

A much better toast.

I leaned across the table towards him and whispered conspiratorially, “Of course, you’re too young to drink that legally.”

He smiled and took a long sip.

“I’m too young to do a lot of things,” he said, then dipped his finger into his wine and held it towards me.

I took his finger in my mouth and bit it gently then sucked hard.

A hiss escaped him and he closed his eyes. When he opened them again the black of his pupils had eclipsed the sea-blue irises.

I shivered, releasing his finger.

He smiled: a slow, sexy, seductive twist of his lips. I wanted to run my tongue over those lips, feeling their softness, their fullness, their wetness when he parted them. I imagined letting my tongue taste every inch of his firm, taut body, drinking in his scent and tasting the salt on his skin.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off me and I’m sure mine revealed each and every thought. He licked his lips and swallowed.

The waiter broke the spell by discreetly placing our dishes in front of us and ignoring our heated gaze. Perhaps it was something he saw all the time although if he did, I couldn’t imagine why the restaurant hadn’t gone up in flames.

Sebastian leaned back in his chair and I took a deep breath.

“Is it always like this?” he said, suddenly looking lost and vulnerable.

I knew what he was asking me and I didn’t have an answer. I shook my head. “Not for me… not until now, until you.”

What did I know of the kind of love that made it hard to breathe, where your body ached day and night for that connection with another, physically, mentally, spiritually? It was utterly new and terrifying and exhausting and wonderful. I was dazzled by the light that spilled from him into the shadow of my previous existence. He eclipsed everything, erased everything that had gone before. I was reborn – not just to him, but to myself. And I was ready for the adventure.

I took a deep breath and pointed with my chin towards his food.

“Eat: you’ll need your energy.”

Without breaking eye contact, he picked up his fork and lifted some pasta, holding it out towards me. “Want to taste it?”

I took the food in my mouth and felt the creamy sauce drip down my chin. Sebastian grinned and cleaned up the drip with his finger, putting it into his own mouth.

The rest of the meal went the same way, tasting each other’s food, turning ourselves on, stoking the flames, with each new sensory assault. I wanted to crawl over the white tablecloth, tear off his shirt and take him where he sat. I imagined running my hands through his hair and thrusting my tongue into his mouth, clenching on his body when it was inside mine. I licked my lips.

He threw down his fork suddenly and rubbed his hands over his face.

“I can’t concentrate on eating when you look at me like that!” he complained.

“Like what?” I said, feigning an innocence I most definitely wasn’t feeling.

“Like
that!
”

Tauntingly, I pushed my fork into the couscous and carefully lifted it to my mouth, chewing with insolent slowness, as I kept my eyes on his face. Then I licked my lips and sucked the fork clean.

He made a sound deep within his throat that was halfway between a moan and a growl and my eyes opened wide.

“Caro, I mean it! If you do that again…”

His warning amused and aroused me. I wanted to know his limits – and I was curious about mine.

Again, I pushed my fork into the couscous; again I lifted it to my mouth and slowly sucked the fork clean, a challenging look on my face.

He slammed his chair backwards, startling the waiter and the elderly couple who were sitting across the room from us drinking their after dinner Sambuca. He strode around the table and pinned me to the chair, one hand on each side of my seat and kissed me roughly, his frustration and ardor all poured into that one, spellbinding moment.

My hands reached up to his chest and fastened into his T-shirt. I didn’t know if I was pulling him towards me or pushing him away. My whole body was flushed and heated.

I was dimly aware that the waiter was hovering over us and Sebastian stood up reluctantly.

“Ah, sir,” the poor man said nervously, “we have other patrons, sir… ah…”

“Wrap the food to go,” Sebastian ordered.

“Certainly, sir,” replied the waiter, gratefully scuttling away with our dishes.

“You’re impatient tonight,” I said, taking a much needed drink of wine.

He scowled at me. Jeez, even his anger turned me on.

“How the fuck can I eat a plate of carbonara when you’re looking at me like that and I’m sitting there with a boner that’s as hard as Mount Rushmore?”

I nearly spat my wine out and couldn’t help laughing.

“Mount Rushmore?”

A reluctant smile made his lips twitch but I could tell he was still a little mad.

“Come on, then, let’s go. You can finish your cold carbonara later.”
Ugh.

I paid for our abandoned meal with cash, disappointed that our date hadn’t quite gone as planned, although it was my own damn fault. I should have realized that Sebastian wasn’t the kind of man who played games. I didn’t think of myself as that kind of woman either: I just hadn’t realized that a little flirting with food would have such a gratifyingly immediate effect.

Once we’d left the relieved waiter behind and were strolling down the street, Sebastian draped his arm possessively around my shoulders, every now and then stooping to kiss my hair.

“Maybe I should just buy you energy bars next time and skip the whole dinner-date idea,” I teased him. “I could tie you to the bed and feed you Gatorade.”

He stopped so suddenly, I almost skidded past him. He turned and stared at me, then swallowed, his expression burning.

“What would you tie me up with?” he said, his voice full of unexplored longing.

I blushed beet red as he pulled me to his chest and stared down into my eyes.

“Stockings?” I whispered uncertainly.

He squeezed his eyes closed and tightened his grip on me almost painfully.

“And garter straps?” he choked out.

“If you like.”

“In black?”

“Tesoro, for you I’ll wear a different color for each day of the week.”

He let out a low moan.

“Where’s this fucking hotel?” he muttered, then towed me down the street at the quick march.

It took a moment to orientate myself and remember the direction for the hotel. Sebastian was so frustrated I was half expecting him to toss me over his shoulder and make a run for it. He was a man on a mission and he’d had as much foreplay as he could take.

When we reached the hotel, he yanked open the glass door and hauled me across the lobby while the bemused reception desk clerk blinked in surprise.

“Which floor?” he snarled, his fingers drumming impatiently next to the elevator’s call button.

“Fourth,” I stuttered, a little awed by his suddenly commanding behavior.

The doors slid open silently and I almost ran to the back, gripping the handrail, certain I needed something to hold on to. Sebastian took one step inside and let the doors close an inch behind him. He glanced over the buttons and stabbed number four with his finger.

My heart rate spiked as he stared at me, a hungry, desperate, utterly focused look on his face. I licked my lips but my mouth was suddenly dry.

I struggled to think of something to say but my mind was blank, totally without thought – just a raging need to consume.

The elevator started to rise and Sebastian took a pace towards me. Then another. And another. Until he was standing in front of me but still our bodies weren’t touching. Then he reached out and placed one hand above my left shoulder, and his other above my right. I was trapped between his arms. And
still
he didn’t touch me. He leaned forwards and I held my breath. Then slowly, deliberately he nuzzled my hair out of the way and ran his tongue up the side of my neck.