Read Online Private Research: An Erotic Novella by Sabrina Darby - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sabrina Darby
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gathered), spring rolls, and then some rice and another dish that looked like chicken. It was way more food than two people could eat. I pulled two bowls and plates down from the cupboard and set them out with utensils.
“I wasn’t certain what you’d like,” Sebastian said quietly as he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. I melted back against him, my hand still clutching a fork. He kissed me on the temple, and then on my neck, before letting go and reaching for a plate. “God, I’m starving.”
“It all looks good,” I said, watching him as he served himself. He was just so comfortable in his skin. As at home here as he was at his own place. But now that he was no longer touching me, I could see that hint of exhaustion at the corner of his eyes.
“How was work?” I asked.
“Ah, the usual. Started a new project for a new client. How was your stop in Luton?”
“I . . .” I stopped myself before I said anything negative. Instead, I took a moment to focus on serving myself food as well. Sebastian hadn’t chosen to get too deep into the details of his own work. Likely, I shouldn’t prose on and on about my own either. “Fascinating. Ultimately not what I hoped, but definitely worth the trip out. Can I get you something to drink? Actually, there’s not much here. A glass of water?”
“Water is fine,” he said with a grin, then reached for my plate.
A few moments later I joined him at the table in the living room and placed our glasses down.
We ate in silence, having each brushed over our day’s work, and really, what else was there to talk about? In front of us, on the television, some seventeen-year-old singer who had just been voted off the show was watching a retrospective of her performances.
I wanted to say something about how I really felt, but Neil and Jens were several feet away. Beyond which, the knowledge that I’d be leaving soon and it didn’t really matter if Sebastian understood my deep emotional needs or my disturbed psyche kept me silent as I ate.
“Do you watch this show?” I asked finally, feeling ridiculously self-conscious of the silence, of how Neil and Jens might judge it.
He laughed. “No. But one of the receptionists at work is avid about it. I think she wants to try out next season.”
“What shows do you like to watch?” I couldn’t remember us ever talking about television before. Music, yes. Especially when once he’d pulled out his phone to identify a song playing on the coffee shop’s radio. How crazy that I remembered that little moment? That I remembered all of those moments.
“I don’t really watch much on the telly at all.”
“So you just work, work out, eat, and sleep?”
“And fuck,” he added in a much quieter voice, his gaze full of promise. “Don’t forget that.”
As if my body would let me forget the sex part of it all. At least we had that. Since I didn’t need or want more from Sebastian Graham, and sex was clearly his forte, it was all good.
“Maybe we should skip ahead,” I suggested, putting my spoon down.
The edge of his lip quirked up. “Excellent idea.”
I stacked up our plates and took them back to the kitchen. Sebastian followed me and, without saying anything, closed up the leftover food and placed it in the fridge. Perhaps not much of a celebratory dinner, but at least I’d have leftovers.
Then he had me in his arms and his lips were on mine. Domesticity gave way to charged desire.
“Where’s your room?”
I led him back across the apartment, avoiding looking at either of my flatmates. When we were safely in my room, door shut, I practically threw myself at him.
It was so nice not to think about the time running down on my trip or my failure to do what I’d set out to do. I lost myself in his mouth, his touch, the way that, in lifting up on my toes to press myself flat against him, I was subsumed by his existence.
His hands were already under my skirt, rounded over my backside, as he pulled
“I wasn’t certain what you’d like,” Sebastian said quietly as he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. I melted back against him, my hand still clutching a fork. He kissed me on the temple, and then on my neck, before letting go and reaching for a plate. “God, I’m starving.”
“It all looks good,” I said, watching him as he served himself. He was just so comfortable in his skin. As at home here as he was at his own place. But now that he was no longer touching me, I could see that hint of exhaustion at the corner of his eyes.
“How was work?” I asked.
“Ah, the usual. Started a new project for a new client. How was your stop in Luton?”
“I . . .” I stopped myself before I said anything negative. Instead, I took a moment to focus on serving myself food as well. Sebastian hadn’t chosen to get too deep into the details of his own work. Likely, I shouldn’t prose on and on about my own either. “Fascinating. Ultimately not what I hoped, but definitely worth the trip out. Can I get you something to drink? Actually, there’s not much here. A glass of water?”
“Water is fine,” he said with a grin, then reached for my plate.
A few moments later I joined him at the table in the living room and placed our glasses down.
We ate in silence, having each brushed over our day’s work, and really, what else was there to talk about? In front of us, on the television, some seventeen-year-old singer who had just been voted off the show was watching a retrospective of her performances.
I wanted to say something about how I really felt, but Neil and Jens were several feet away. Beyond which, the knowledge that I’d be leaving soon and it didn’t really matter if Sebastian understood my deep emotional needs or my disturbed psyche kept me silent as I ate.
“Do you watch this show?” I asked finally, feeling ridiculously self-conscious of the silence, of how Neil and Jens might judge it.
He laughed. “No. But one of the receptionists at work is avid about it. I think she wants to try out next season.”
“What shows do you like to watch?” I couldn’t remember us ever talking about television before. Music, yes. Especially when once he’d pulled out his phone to identify a song playing on the coffee shop’s radio. How crazy that I remembered that little moment? That I remembered all of those moments.
“I don’t really watch much on the telly at all.”
“So you just work, work out, eat, and sleep?”
“And fuck,” he added in a much quieter voice, his gaze full of promise. “Don’t forget that.”
As if my body would let me forget the sex part of it all. At least we had that. Since I didn’t need or want more from Sebastian Graham, and sex was clearly his forte, it was all good.
“Maybe we should skip ahead,” I suggested, putting my spoon down.
The edge of his lip quirked up. “Excellent idea.”
I stacked up our plates and took them back to the kitchen. Sebastian followed me and, without saying anything, closed up the leftover food and placed it in the fridge. Perhaps not much of a celebratory dinner, but at least I’d have leftovers.
Then he had me in his arms and his lips were on mine. Domesticity gave way to charged desire.
“Where’s your room?”
I led him back across the apartment, avoiding looking at either of my flatmates. When we were safely in my room, door shut, I practically threw myself at him.
It was so nice not to think about the time running down on my trip or my failure to do what I’d set out to do. I lost myself in his mouth, his touch, the way that, in lifting up on my toes to press myself flat against him, I was subsumed by his existence.
His hands were already under my skirt, rounded over my backside, as he pulled
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