The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline (30 page)

Here in this room, with our bodies entwined, I felt that I could trust this fierce love that had shattered and rebuilt my life. But outside, the world was a cold and dangerous place. I didn’t know if love would be enough, but I’d promised to try.

He bent down suddenly and quite literally swept me off my feet so I gasped. He cradled me in his arms and kissed me again.

“I’ve been meaning to do this for ages,” he said, his voice a soft murmur.

“Sebastian, you swept me off my feet our very first night together.”

He grinned.

“Yeah, but I’ve been wanting to do it properly ever since.”

Gently, he placed me on the bed and stood looking down at me, his gaze soft and loving.

“I want to kiss every inch of you,” he said.

“That sounds nice: which end are you going to start?”

He laughed lightly.

“Hmm … choices, choices. Today, I think I’ll start with your toes.”

“My toes?!”

“Sure, why not? You have beautiful feet.”

And, to make his point, he picked up my left foot and sucked my big toe, nipping the end playfully.

Why that was so erotic, I couldn’t say, but it made me desperate to feel him inside me. I reached out for him but he leaned away.

“Nope! You’re always saying you want me to go slowly … your wish is my command.”

“But…!”

“Nope—slowly.”

He kissed the front of my foot and ran his tongue up my shin. He sucked my knee, gazing up at me through his lashes, a wicked gleam in his eye. Just when I thought he’d be moving up to my thigh, he put my foot back on the bed and started again on my right foot.

Why the hell had I ever asked for ‘slow’? This was torture. Slow, delicious, unbelievable torture. Boy, he was a good student.

This time he didn’t stop at my knee, but hooked my leg over his shoulder and kept on going. And going.

My back arched and I gasped as his tongue flicked up to my sweet spot, then circled around and around.

I moaned his name and clutched at his shoulders but he just pressed harder and I felt myself begin to build.

“Sebastian,” I moaned again. “Please!”

I wasn’t even sure what I was pleading for: me, him, us.

Then he started teasing me with his fingers, slowly circling, massaging me inside and out. I didn’t think I could take much more and tried to push his hands away but he was relentless. My body shuddered and he sat up. I glimpsed a satisfied expression on his face between my frantic breaths.

“Slow enough for you?” he muttered, as he continued his kisses up my body, finally reaching my breasts, which he sucked and teased with playful bites.

I pulled my knees up and felt his erection pushing between my thighs, but he didn’t try to enter me. I ran my hand up and down him and he squeezed his eyes shut, momentarily losing his concentration.

“Don’t,” he said.

“But, I…”

“You have to wait, Caro.”

“Why?!”

“You wanted slow. I’m giving you slow.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” I whimpered. “I want fast. Please. Now.”

He arched his back away from me and grinned.

“No. I like slow. Who knew?”

And to make his point, he grabbed both my hands and held them above my head so I couldn’t touch him and he carried on kissing my breasts.

That made me mad. I didn’t like not being able to touch him.

“Let go my hands!”

He ignored me so I bit his neck and pushed against him with my feet.

“Wow, you want to fight me? I like it!”

“Stop teasing me!”

“I thought you wanted slow?”

“No!” I said forcefully, and he laughed.

“What do you want then?”

I shook his hands off me and grabbed hold of his erection, placing it at my entrance.
If that wasn’t enough of a clue, I really didn’t know what was!

Thankfully he took the hint and allowed himself to slide into me. I was so turned on it was a relief and pain and pleasure when he was finally inside me. And that’s when his plans to go slow completely unraveled.

“Oh, fuck!” he hissed. “You feel so fucking amazing! Oh, Caro!”

I tilted my hips up and he started to really move—long, hard strokes that rocked the whole bed and sent the headboard banging against the wall.

I clenched around him, and that tipped him over the edge. He rammed into me urgently one last time, his muscles rigid, his breath hot and rapid on my neck. He rested his head on my shoulder and gently pulled out of me, collapsing onto his side.

Breathlessly, I inched back down the bed and nestled into him. He wrapped his arm around me and we lay there wordlessly.

Finally, we lay peacefully. My head was on his chest, listening to his heart beating, his breath rising and falling, and the distant sounds of the world outside our window. His fingers drifted rhythmically up and down my back.

I felt so content, I began to fall asleep. Then Sebastian brought me crashing back to the here and now.

“Did David say anything to you when he came home?”

I sighed. I really didn’t want to talk about him.

“Not much.”

“He must have said something.”

“He implied I drank too much.”

“What? Why?”

I laughed mirthlessly. “I think, because I offered him a glass of wine. I was trying to be … civil.”

Sebastian muttered an oath under his breath.

Well, now that he’d started this line of questioning … here was my starter for ten.

“How did you get home last night? I understood from Shirley that everyone was sleeping in the van.”

“Hitched,” he said, shortly.

And now for the six million dollar question.

“What did Brenda say to you, when you went off with her?”

He sucked some air in through his teeth.
Yeah, should have seen that one coming.

“She wanted us to start dating again.”

I’d guessed as much. Hell, she couldn’t have been more obvious if she’d sky-written it with scarlet letters, then ripped his clothes off and mounted him on the sand in front of everyone.

“And what did you say?”

“I said I didn’t feel the same … I told her I’d met someone else.”

I inhaled sharply. “Was that wise?”

He shrugged. “I thought that would make her back off.”

“But it didn’t?”

He shook his head. “Not at first. She kept on and on asking me who it was.”

“And?”

“She kept naming all these girls we knew in school…” he sighed. “Then she said the thing with Jack was a mistake … and she started crying.”

All those girls…

I couldn’t help feeling he wasn’t telling me the whole story. Did I want to know? If he didn’t tell me, I’d probably just imagine something worse.

“How did you leave it with her?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when she started crying, what did you do?”

“You
saw
what I did,” he said, sounding annoyed.

“Yes, but after that: Shirley and Donna said you’d been gone ages.”

He didn’t answer straight away.

“We went for a walk,” he said at last. “Brenda was … embarrassed. She didn’t want to go back to her friends looking like she’d been crying.”

“She’s very pretty.”

He looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, I guess.”

“What happened next?”

“That’s it. I walked her back to her friends. She seemed fine. I went back to the fire pit, but you’d already packed up and gone. I texted you,” he said accusingly.

“I didn’t look at my phone.”

I could see he wasn’t fully convinced but he didn’t press me either. I was grateful for that.

“Why were you downtown so late?”

“I was dropping off the films I took of the fun day.”

“On a Sunday?”

“Yes, the editor wanted them early. I don’t know why.”
Although I had a pretty good suspicion what the reason was.

He paused. I was glad he’d decided to let it go.

“Bill’s an asshole.”

Ugh. He wasn’t letting
everything
go
.
Now I was the one who should have seen that coming.

“You shouldn’t let him wind you up so easily.”

“I hated the way he spoke to you!”

“I know how that feels,” I said, calmly.

We lay quietly for a few minutes, letting the twin specters of our jealousy spiral further away.

I think Sebastian must have finally decided to try and put yesterday behind us, because he suddenly said, “I never asked: have you ever been to New York before?”

“Yes, a couple of times. You?”

“No. Mom and Dad went sometimes but they always left me with a neighbor.”

His voice was bitter. I wondered again if Shirley’s speculation about his parentage was accurate.

“What made you want us to go there then?”

He shrugged.

“Same reason you want to go back East—to get as far away from here as possible.”

“What shall we do when we get there?” I said, happy to try and imagine our future. “I mean, is there anything special you’d like to do?”

“Have sex. A lot.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s a given. Anything else? Perhaps of an outdoor nature?”

“Have sex outdoors.”

I laughed.

“I don’t think they have a lot of beaches in New York City.”

“Yeah, they do! I checked. Well, not the city exactly but there’s a surf community at Rockaway Beach. If we lived in Brooklyn or Queens, we’d be less than 10 miles from it.”

I had to smile. “You’ve been doing your research.”

“Sure! And a guy I know who used to surf Long Beach said that it can get pretty gnarly.”

“I think you should write me a glossary of surfing terms so I know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, you’ve gotta know about Sex Wax, baby.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, you rub it on your stick.”

“Okay, you’ve got about five seconds to explain that or…”

“Or what?”

“No peanut butter for you!”

“Wow! You really do play rough!”

“You’d better believe it.”

He laughed and tugged my hair gently.

“Sex Wax is a brand name for the kind of wax you put on your board—your stick. It helps give you traction. Not as much fun as it sounds.”

“Preferisci una inceratura a caldo ... o a freddo?”

“What does that mean? Because it sounded really dirty!”

“I said, ‘Do you like it coated in hot wax ... or cold?’”

“Oh man! That sounded so hot!”

“Si è alzata l’onda, o sei proprio contento di vedermi?”

“Huh?”

“Is the surf up or are you just pleased to see me?”

“Fuck! It makes me so horny when you say stuff like that.”

“Sebastian, I could read a bus timetable and you’d say it made you horny!”

He smiled. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ve got a tide table in my jeans’ pocket. Will you read that to me?”

“You want a bedtime story? Does that sound good?”

“Supra la luna!”

“You’re learning!”

“You’re a good teacher,” he murmured into my hair.

His stomach rumbled loudly, interrupting the mood somewhat.

“Are you hungry?”

“Hungry for you.”

“That is
such
a cheesy line, Sebastian!”

“Yeah, but it’s still true.”

I kicked the sheets off the bed and pushed him away, grabbing my robe.

“Come on. I’m going to feed you. A little lesson in Italian cookery.”

“Pizza?” he said hopefully.

“That’s not proper Italian food. Papa would turn in his grave! No, we’ll make some fresh tortellini.”

“Will it take long?”

“It can be a bit tricky.”

He sat up, propping himself with a pillow.

“We don’t have that much time,” he said, his tone solemn. “I have to be at work at 2
pm
.”

I held back a sigh as I pulled on my robe.

“Oh well. Something quick then. How are you going to get there? Ches?”

When he didn’t reply I looked over at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I was going to ask Mom to drive me.”

“Oh, why?”

He blew out a lungful of air and fiddled with the sheet.

“Ches is kind of mad at me.”