Sadie: How about you meet me at my apartment at 2, and I do better than tell you about my dream. We can act it out . . .

Fuck yeah. I couldn’t type back fast enough.

Sebastian: I’ll be out front of your building at 1:45.

Sadie: LOL. I like your eagerness, Mr. Maxwell.

Sebastian: Oh, I’m eager, alright. You should see what’s going on in my pants already . . . with more than five hours to go before I arrive.

Sadie: You could . . . show me what’s going on.

All the blood from my brain had rushed south with better shit to do than support logical decisions. So of course, it sounded like a damn good idea to oblige. Reaching down, I fisted my hard-on through my sweatpants, then snapped a pic and sent it in response to her text. Maybe it was the angle, but my cock looked pretty damn impressive, if I did say so myself.

Sadie wasted no time responding.

Sadie: OMG. Lunch looks delicious! I can’t wait. Let’s make it 1pm, instead of 2!

I laughed.

Sebastian: See you at 1, beautiful. Can’t wait.

CHAPTER 22

SADIE

“I love this little dip.”

Sebastian ran his finger up and down the arch between my lower back and the top of my ass as I lay on my stomach. We’d just ravaged each other, yet the slightest touch of his finger on my back had me already wanting him again.

“Oh yeah?”

He nodded. “Would it be too much if I poured the soup I brought with lunch and drank it out of there?”

I laughed. “Well, it might be hot, and I don’t think you would be drinking it out of the dip in my back, more like lapping like a dog.”

“Sweetheart, that soup is ice-cold by now. And lapping at you sounds absolutely fucking perfect.”

He was definitely right about the soup not being hot anymore. Now I was glad that I’d told my office I needed to take a half day for a fake doctor’s appointment. We’d been at it for close to two hours already, and the Chinese food that Sebastian had brought hadn’t even made it out of the bag.

As if that thought reminded my body that it had skipped breakfast, my stomach growled . . . loudly.

Sebastian chuckled. “I guess that’s one way of you telling me I should feed you.”

“I’m actually starving. I usually eat a bar in the morning on the train, but some guy bumped into me and it fell on the floor after one bite.”

“Why don’t I go heat the food up, then?”

“Okay.”

Sebastian got out of bed. He bent to grab his jeans, giving me a spectacular view of his very taut ass.

“Wait!”

He froze with one leg in the pants and turned to look at me.

“Don’t get dressed,” I said.

He flashed a crooked smile. “You want to eat naked?”

“Yeah. I do. Would it gross you out if I said I wanted to eat naked in bed with you?”

Sebastian chuckled. “No. But it might make me propose.”

He kicked back off the pants leg and strutted out to the kitchen buck naked.

What a view. I sighed. Feeling content, I adjusted the blankets and pillows to sit up against the headboard.

A few minutes later, Sebastian returned with three containers and two sets of chopsticks. He climbed back into bed and passed me one of the cartons, then unwrapped the wooden chopsticks and snapped them apart before offering them to me.

“Thank you.”

His eye dropped down to my exposed breasts and he shook his head. “Best fucking lunch ever.”

I stuffed my face with Szechuan shrimp. “Mm. This is good. Where did you get it?”

“This little takeout place two blocks from me.”

“I’m very picky about Chinese food. It’s probably because I’m part Chinese.”

Sebastian was midswallow and started to cough. “You’re Chinese?”

“Four percent. I did one of those 23andMe DNA tests to find out my heritage two years ago, since I’m adopted. I’m sixty percent Italian, thirty-six percent Norwegian, and four percent Chinese. Ever since I found that out, I feel like I got better with chopsticks.”

He laughed. “Interesting. My daughter is obsessed with those damn commercials ever since she made a family tree at school.”

“I totally forgot about that! She told Santa she wanted one of those in her early letters.”

Sebastian shook his head.

“What about you? What nationality are you?”

“My grandparents were from Sicily on my dad’s side, and my mother was Welsh.” Sebastian fished a piece of sesame chicken from his cardboard container and went to put it into his mouth. Halfway there, he fumbled, and the chicken landed on his abs. He picked it off using his chopsticks. “Must be because I’m not four percent Chinese.”

I smiled. “Do you sing in the shower?”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “That’s an odd question to ask.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. But I think people’s shower habits tell a lot about them. Like if you’re in and out in five minutes, racing through the washing to get done, or whether you take your time and use your shampoo bottle as a mic when the mood strikes.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever used the shampoo bottle as a microphone. But I definitely whistle sometimes.” His face fell. “At least I used to.”

I set my container on the nightstand and then plucked Sebastian’s from his hands and placed his lunch next to mine. Crawling over, I straddled his lap. “I think we can get you back to whistling in the shower.”

He brushed hair from my face. “I think so, too. You make me feel happier than I have in a long time, Gretchen.”

I rubbed my nose with his. “Danke.”

It was another half hour before Sebastian and I got back to the Chinese food. We were just destined to eat it cold. But I couldn’t care less. Playing cowgirl on my handsome boyfriend’s lap beat warm food any day of the week.

After, we showered together, and Sebastian had to get ready to leave for the restaurant.

“What are you doing tonight?” He kissed the top of my head while I sat at my vanity brushing out my wet hair. “Any plans?”

“Actually, I have a hot date.”

I watched Sebastian’s face fall in the mirror. Shit.

“Gah! It’s not what you’re thinking. I meant I was going out to dinner with my dad.”

He squinted at my reflection in the mirror. “Not funny. Considering your job.”

I stood and pushed up on my tippy-toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

He finished buttoning his shirt. “Where are you going for dinner?”

“I’m not sure. We usually decide when he gets here.”

“Why don’t you come to the restaurant?”

I blinked a few times. “Really? You wouldn’t mind meeting my dad?”

Sebastian shrugged. “Why would I mind? You’re already one of my daughter’s favorite people.”

Warmth spread throughout my chest. Being with a mature man really made the men I’d dated over the last—oh, I don’t know—ten years seem like such little boys. Sebastian wasn’t afraid to meet my family and had welcomed me into his once he gave in to his feelings.