Page 92 of Dirty Like Seth
I wanted to have sex with him again.Badly.
I just feared what would happen afterward. Both of us, gettinghurt.
“I know,” he said. “If we have sex again… I’m gonna carry around like ten condoms in my pockets, at all times, just in case.” He smiled a little, dimpleflashing.
I smiled back. I trusted that. I trusted him. Maybe because he hadn’t pressured me. Just like he told me he would in my bedroom the other day, Seth was letting me call the shots. He was following myrules.
He hadn’t tried to touch meagain.
I hadn’t asked himto.
But he did keep giving me that look, the one he was giving me right now—the one that told me he’d be naked with me in seconds, if I wantedthat.
And Ididwant that. Not just because I was crazy-hot for him; I wanted it because I did feel safe with him—in more ways than just the physical. Because all the bullshit fears that had plagued me, virtually crippling me… the lingering doubts and anxiety left in the wake of my heartbreak… I really didn’t feel any of it when Seth washere.
I wasn’t the least bit afraid of him dumping me, leaving me, breaking my heart. He just wasn’t that kind ofperson.
Seth Brothers was not aheartbreaker.
Jesse Mayes had sat me down, the morning after the final show of our last tour, at my place in L.A., and told me, in a very businesslike manner, that we were over. That he couldn’t be with me anymore. Then he’d flown home to Vancouver. And that wasit.
There was no further conversation, no back-and-forth. He delivered the blow, and I was just expected to deal with it. He left me to deal with it, alone. We were still friends. We’d always be friends. I knew he cared about me. Loved me, even; I was part of his band and part of his history. But as far as dealing with my broken heart, he was unavailable to me. Emotionally disinterested, or incapable, or just plain selfish; I had never decided which. Maybe he was just too happy with Katie to even see how hard it had been for me. Or maybe, in the end, he was all of theabove.
As Seth stood before me, tucking his lab results back into his pocket, I knew he’d never be like that. Would never leave me broken like that and just walk away. I didn’t know how I knew, exactly. But Iknew.
My heart was safe withhim.
No matter what this was, or wasn’t, or how far it went… Seth would handle my heart withcare.
If only I could give him thatchance.
“I should get some sleep,” I told him, even as our eyes remained locked and that needy heat unfurled low in my belly, spreading through my core… that restless ache. The memories I now had of him… dropping to his knees, his mouth between my legs… fucking me on my bedroom floor as the world I’d known just kind of crumbled around me and a new and very uncertain reality tookhold.
The fact was, I wanted a man I was not supposed towant.
A man who wasn’t supposed to be in my life in any significant way, and yet, I wanted him here, in my home. I’d taken him to Hawaii with me. I’d followed him toVancouver.
I’d taken him to mybed.
And yet I still didn’t have a clue how I was going to do it: how I was going to tell the closest people in my life that Seth and I were making music together, much less that we were intimatelyinvolved.
Because we were. I felt it as we stood here, inches from one another. We were intimate, and we were involved, even if we weren’t havingsex.
“Okay,” he said lightly, and if he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. “Sleep it is.” He put his hand on my arm, warm and strong, and he kissed me, softly, on theforehead.
For a breath, he hesitated there, and I knew he was giving me a moment… just in case I suddenly yanked him to me and kissed him and asked him tostay.
But Ididn’t.
I wanted to. I so,sowanted to… but Ididn’t.
Chapter Twenty-One
Seth
It was Monday.A newweek.
I was sitting in Elle’s home studio, alone, cross-legged on the floor in front of the big, open windows, drinking coffee as the evening sun and the fresh coastal air poured over me. I was working on a new song, one of my favorite acoustics in my lap. I’d had Michelle ship it over from Boston, and had a few others shipped up from Austin and L.A.. My guitars were like the rest of my shit; strewn all over NorthAmerica.
