Escape From Reality (12 page)

Suddenly
everything Leila had ever written in her romances became clear. She’d written
words, created characters and given them relationships, but the emotions that Cheryl
had said were missing welled up inside of Leila. Passion and lust, the desire
to give as well as receive pleasure—intense pleasure—caught her off
guard. She had something to give Sebastian and for the first time, she was
ready to explore just what that was.

Kneeling on the
grass in front of Sebastian, she rested her hands on his thighs. She looked up
to find his eyes locked with hers. There was no hesitation in her actions as
she reached for his erection, stroking him slowly for a moment.

As she pulled
him into her mouth, Sebastian gasped, one hand moving to cradle the back of her
head, fingers winding into her hair.

Sebastian’s
sounds changed from gasps to low moans as Leila used her tongue and hands to
give him pleasure. It wasn’t long before he was thrusting slowly into her
mouth, his eyes watching every move she made.

Leila’s body
reacted to every sound Sebastian made, the feel of him, the taste. A sense of
feminine power rose up in her as she realized how much pleasure she could give Sebastian,
how much she wanted to be here with him. All that was now mixed with the
throbbing deep in her body, the ache for Sebastian, to have him hold her, make
love to her.

As if sensing
her feelings, Sebastian tugged on Leila’s hair, halting her movements. She
pulled away and he knelt beside her.

“Leila…” He
breathed her name as he lowered her to the grass, stretching out next to her.

She pulled him
to her, arms around his neck, eagerly wanting his kiss, seeking his lips with
hers. Sebastian was there instantly, and she claimed his mouth with passion.

Leila’s body
ached for his touch, ached to feel him inside her again. Wordlessly, she
shifted next to him, pushing him until he was on his back. She sat up,
straddling his hips.

He was beneath
her, his erection pressing against her inner thigh, his hips rocking slowly.
But he held himself in check, hands on her hips, teasing her with his
movements. She tried to lower herself, but he gripped her with strong fingers,
keeping her from settling down on him.

The excitement
built in her body, threatening to consume her. She wanted Sebastian, and she
wanted him now.

“I can see what
you want, Leila. It’s written all over your face. Take it.”

Leila held Sebastian’s
eyes, a smile pulling at her lips. For the first time, she wanted control and
she was ready to take it.

“I am. And
there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

The corner of Sebastian’s
mouth turned up and he let go of her, holding his hands up in surrender.

“I’m at your
mercy, Leila. Take whatever you want of me.” His wolfish grin told her that he
knew damn well that she was the one at his mercy. If she hadn’t already been
thoroughly seduced by the man, that smile would have done it.

Leila held his
gaze for a moment, arousal swelling in her body. She reached down, taking him
in her hand. She held him a moment before she lowered her body, guiding him
into her.

She was ready
for him. She was always ready for him.

As she lowered
herself onto him, he closed his eyes, exhaling a low moan. He moved beneath her,
his hips rising up slowly. Leila shifted her weight, rocking her body, hips
rolling forward.

They started
the dance together, Leila leading, setting the pace. Sebastian followed her
every move, shifting beneath her, letting her ride him as she pleased.

Sebastian
rested his hands on Leila’s legs, sliding up the soft skin of her inner thighs,
thumbs running along the crease of her leg. Slowly, he moved one hand between
her legs, slipping it against her slick wetness, caressing her gently

Leila gasped as
his fingers brushed quickly across her clit, her hips jerking as he slowly
circled the sensitive nub with his thumb once, then twice. She faltered in her
rhythm and Sebastian pulled his hand away.

She caught Sebastian’s
smile, the knowing look that told her he’d decided he was taking control. As
she began moving, raising her body, sliding him in and out of her, he rubbed
harder against her and she cried out, hips jerking again.

This time Sebastian
laughed, a low seductive sound. But he didn’t take his hand away again, instead
sliding his thumb over her again and again. Leila tried to keep moving, to
continue her dance with Sebastian, but her body had other ideas. Her hips
jerked with each pass of his thumb, her thigh muscles tensing against his hips.
Almost without conscious thought, her hands rose to her breasts, clutching and
squeezing them, pinching the hard nipples between her fingers.

Every nerve in
her body was alive, humming with arousal, the sensations Sebastian was creating
with his fingers while he inside of her more intense than anything she’d ever
experienced.

And then
everything exploded. She rose on her knees above Sebastian, hips pressed
forward as her orgasm ripped through her. Throwing her head back, arms flung
wide, she screamed, her voice echoing across the lush tropical foliage.

She fell
forward against Sebastian’s chest, breathing hard, her body thrumming with
pleasure. Sebastian’s arms went around her shoulders, holding her gently as the
ebb and flow in her body gradually subsided.

But his body
was anything but still beneath her. She could feel the tension in his limbs,
inside her, and his hands slid down her back. As he cupped her ass, fingers
digging into her sensitive skin, his hips flexed upward, thrusting himself
deeply into her. He started a slow but barely restrained rhythm.

His movements
brought her right back to the edge and she ground herself down on him,
following his lead as his hands pushed her against his body, meeting his
thrusts over and over.

When he came,
it was as sudden as a summer thunderstorm and just as intense, and it took her
breath away. Leila could feel his heart beating against her breasts, his breath
rasping against her neck as he thrust up, hard and sharp. His heat filled her,
his passion overwhelmed her, and the emotions that flooded her body threatened
to consume her. She buried her head against him, inhaling the scent of him, of
them, her eyes closed.

“Leila…”

Sebastian
breathed her name against her neck. She lifted her head, meeting his gaze. The
brilliant green eyes were soft, and she brushed a lock of black hair away from
his forehead.

“God, woman.
When you take control, you take no prisoners.”

She smiled. “I
guess you bring out the animal in me.”

Sebastian
shifted her, nestling her alongside him on the grass. Curled into the crook of
his arm, she rested her head on his shoulder. Beneath her cheek, she felt more
than heard his laugh.

Chapter
Seven

Leila stirred
restlessly. The sun had probably slipped behind the trees and the air was
cooler, a flush of goose bumps peppering her arms. It had grown late and she
must have fallen asleep, naked, on the bench. Of course she’d be cold. She
reached for Sebastian, hand clasping empty air.

Opening her
eyes, she blinked up at patches of deep blue sky visible through the roof of
the arbor.

She sat up on
the bench, wrapping her arms around herself. Startled, she looked down as her
fingers touched the linen of her dress. She was fully clothed, down to the
satin lingerie.

“Sebastian?”

Her voice
echoed in the silence. She rose and walked from beneath the arbor. The garden
surrounded her, but everything was still. The butterflies were gone, the birds
silent.

And Sebastian
was gone as well.

Sinking back
onto the bench, she frowned. He’d been there with her, and again he’d made love
to her. She knew that—she was sure of it—emotionally, and certainly
her body knew what it had experienced.

She pulled her
writer’s box toward her, opened it, and took out the pages she’d written
earlier in the day. Her hero and heroine were torn apart now, divided by
circumstances beyond their control, misunderstandings, missed connections.
Sitting in the gathering twilight, she felt her heroine’s loss as keenly as if
it were her own. And maybe it was. She felt like she’d lost Sebastian again.

Who was Sebastian?
Was he an actor? She clung to that tiny
shred of hope. If he was hired to play a part, could she get Cheryl to admit
the charade, to tell Leila his name? She’d be able to contact him, maybe meet
him somewhere other than this damned island.

But the thought
kept intruding that something else had happened, that maybe he wasn’t real.
Something strange had happened to her at the cove. Had she suffered some kind
of injury, hit her head, maybe laid on the sand and suffered heatstroke? Was
this all just a dream?

Leila shivered,
a sudden chill running down her spine. She’d forgotten her watch and wondered
if she’d missed dinner completely. But it didn’t matter; food was the last
thing on her mind.

Sighing, she
picked up her writer’s box and made her way back up to the path to the castle.
Soft lights lit the stairs and she climbed them slowly, her feet leaden.

The castle door
opened on well-oiled hinges and she stepped inside the cool, dim interior.
There didn’t seem to be anyone downstairs. The dining room was dark, the hall
beyond deep in shadows. She started to call for Dominick or Cheryl, but then
decided she really didn’t want to talk to anyone.

Leila climbed
the stairs to her room. Dominick had left a tray with a cold supper, but she
pushed it aside. She set the writer’s box on her desk, lit a candle, and opened
the box. She glanced at the pages that lay inside, but the joy she’d felt as
she’d written the words was gone. Sighing, she folded them in half, stepped
into the hall, and laid them on the silver tray.

She turned and
her eyes fell on the door. The carved figures were immobile, locked in their
chaste embrace. An irrational wave of self-pity washed over her. At least they
had each other. Shaking her head, she closed the door softly, the latch
clicking shut behind her.

Slowly she
undid the buttons of her dress, remembering how she’d felt that afternoon, as
she’d unbuttoned the dress under Sebastian’s heated gaze. Excitement had
swirled through her as she revealed herself to him, as he’d drunk her in with
his eyes, his arousal fueling hers. Now her fingers were stiff and cold as she
pulled the dress away from her body. The bra and panties followed, landing with
a satiny whisper on the floor.

She was bone
weary, suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion. It even seemed like too much
trouble to find a nightgown in the drawers of the giant wardrobe. She climbed
into bed naked, blew out the candle, and pulled the sheet over her shoulders.

Leila’s mind
was in turmoil, desperately trying to reconstruct what had happened that
afternoon at the arbor, to make some kind of sense of everything. She drew a
deep breath, resigning herself to a sleepless night.

But as she lay
in bed, watching the moonlight trace a silvery path across the floor, her
eyelids drooped, grew heavy, and slowly closed. The moonlight still played
across her bed, but Leila was already in a deep sleep.

The sound of
the door opening pulled her from that sleep. Leila opened her eyes, her heart
racing. Moonlight flooded her room and in the soft light, she saw the outline
of a tall man in the doorway. Her heart leapt in her chest. Sebastian had come
back to her.

She eagerly
pulled back the sheets as he walked across the room, her body already coming
alive with anticipation. But as he came to sit on the edge of the bed, Leila
pulled back in alarm. It wasn’t Sebastian.

But something
about him seemed oddly familiar, almost as if she recognized him. Then it hit
her: he looked like the man from the carving on her door. A shiver ran through
her, her mind going back to the night she’d watched him…with her…on the door.

“What do you
want?” Her voice was just a whisper.

“I want you, Leila.
Ever since the first time I saw you, I’ve wanted you.” He leaned across the
bed, placing his hand on her bare leg.

“But…you’re not
real.”

“I’m as real as
you want me to be, Leila.”

The man shifted
on the bed and Leila realized he was naked. Her eyes widened, and in the
moonlight she let them travel over his body. He was lean and chiseled, and as
her eyes moved lower, she saw he was obviously very aroused.

A surprising
thud of deep and dark hit her low in her belly, and the entire episode she’d
witnessed replayed in an instant, the primal way the man had taken the
woman—her—the heat and fire she’d felt by just watching. Leila
wanted him, wanted him to take her just as he had before.

As if reading
her mind, the man climbed onto the bed, resting on his knees beside her, his
eyes locked with hers. She tried to hold his gaze, but her eyes flickered away
from his face, down past his chest, and she drew an involuntary breath, eyes
widening. His erection was large, rising along the flat plane of his stomach,
straining upward. Another deep thud hit her.