<h4>Chapter 256: Chapter 256 Dangerous Chemistry</h4>


    Cecilia’s pov


    Sebastian looked at my lips. His eyes, usually cold and controlled, suddenly had heat in them. Like he was holding something back, and barely managing.


    My cheeks flushed. Seriously? At the dinner table?In front of everyone?


    Poor Sawyer, sitting right across from us, looked like he was about to choke on his cornbread.


    I cleared my throat and gently pushed away the hand still hovering near my mouth.


    "Bit your finger. Sorry. Totally an ident." I returned to my drumstick, hoping the moment would pass.


    Sebastian set his napkin down, still smiling.


    "Don’t worry, Cece. It’s not the first time you’ve bitten me by ident."


    I froze.


    Sawyer and Liam both turned to look at him, expressions stunned.


    The drumstick slipped out of my hand andnded on the te with a dull thud.


    I wanted to crawl under the table.


    Not the first time? Bitten by mistake?


    That left way too much to the imagination.


    Dinner finally ended.


    I bolted like a scared rabbit.


    Everyone probably thought I’d seduced him.


    But what could I even say? That he’d always been like this and I just identally triggered the switch? No one would buy it.


    Back in my apartment, I unpacked, tossedundry into the washer, and forced myself to do a quick clean-up before running a bath.


    The week had been chaos. I needed to reset.


    While soaking, I called Harper and my parents to let them know I was home safe.


    After hanging up, I added a few drops of essential oil to the water—a gift from Yvonne, who said it helped "clear mental blocks" or "awaken inner rity."


    Honestly, it just smelled likevender and expensive soap.


    Steam curled around me, and for the first time in days, I felt... calm.


    Then came the doorbell.


    Ding-dong.


    My eyes snapped open.


    I didn’t even need to ask who it was.


    Of course he’d show up.


    Mr. Alpha always had perfect timing.


    I dried off, slipped into my favorite oversized T-shirt and shorts, and shuffled to the door.


    "Meow~"


    I looked down. A fat cat stood at my doorstep, paws resting on my wee mat like it owned the ce.


    "Muffin?" I blinked. "How’d you get down here?"


    I purposely ignored the tall shadow standing just behind the feline.


    I bent down to scoop the cat into my arms. He nuzzled my chest like a baby seal.


    "Muffin missed his mommy," Sebastian said, reaching out to stroke the cat’s head.


    His eyes, however, weren’t on Muffin. They were on me.


    I didn’t respond.


    Muffin gave another meow, oblivious to the tension in the air.


    "The muffin can stay," I said, shifting the cat in my arms. "You, however, can go back upstairs."


    I tried to close the door.


    Sebastian stepped forward, one arm slipping around my waist.


    "I missed you too," he murmured. His voice was low and rough.


    His hand slid along my waist, leaving fire in its wake.


    I opened my mouth to say no. What came out was: "Come in."


    I grabbed his shirt and yanked him inside, pinning him against the wall beside the entryway painting.


    His mouth was on mine before I could even think, all heat and teeth and that low, rough sound in his throat that went straight to my fucking core.


    My hands were already pulling at his shirt, buttons pinging off somewhere in the dark.


    "Fuck your shirt," I muttered against his lips, yanking it open. His skin was hot under my palms.


    One of his hands slid over my breast, pressing through the fabric of my bra, while the other clutched my backside with bruising intensity.


    "Tell me you want this," he growled, his mouth moving to my neck, biting just shy of too hard.


    "I fucking invited you in, didn’t I?" I shot back, arching into him. My fingers fumbled with his belt. The leather gave way with a sharp little snap.


    His cock was already hard, straining against his briefs.


    I wrapped my hand around him through the fabric, and he cursed, his hips jerking forward.


    We stumbled toward the bedroom. My T-shirt got caught over my head for a second, and he just ripped it the rest of the way off. My bra followed, tossed over his shoulder.


    The cool air on my skinsted half a second before his mouth was on my nipple, sucking hard, his tongue circling the peak until I gasped.


    We fell onto the bed. The frame let out a loud, protesting groan.


    "This piece of shit bed better not break," I breathed out, even as I was kicking my pants and panties down my legs. He was naked too now, kneeling between my thighs. The moonlight from the window cut across his shoulders, down the tense lines of his stomach.


    He didn’t ask. He just looked at me, his eyes dark, his cock jutting up against his stomach.


    I was already wet, aching for him. I reached down and spread myself open with my fingers. "Quit staring and fuck me already."


    That broke whateverst bit of control he had. He grabbed my hips, his fingers digging in, and shoved into me in one hard, deep thrust.


    I cried out, my back arching off the mattress.


    "Tight," he grunted, his voice strained. "So fucking tight." He pulled out almost all the way and mmed back in, setting a punishing rhythm from the get-go.


    The headboard started banging against the wall in a steady, frantic beat.


    "Muffin’s gonna rat us out to the super," I managed to gasp, but I didn’t give a shit. I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking my ankles, pulling him deeper with every thrust.


    He shifted, angling himself, and the next thrust hit something inside me that made my vision whiten at the edges. A raw, choked sound ripped out of my throat.


    He did it again, and again, that spot lighting up my whole nervous system. My nails scraped down his back. "Right there, god, don’t you fucking stop..."


    He was breathing like he was running a race, sweat slick between our chests. One of his hands slid down, his thumb finding my clit. The pressure was rough, direct, circling exactly where I needed it.


    The dual assault was too much. The coil in my gut wound tighter and tighter, a live wire about to snap.


    "Come for me," he demanded, his voice gravel against my ear. "Let me feel youe on my cock."


    It wasn’t a request. It was amand, and my body obeyed. The orgasm tore through me, violent and consuming.


    I clenched around him, my muscles spasming, a string of broken curses falling from my lips. He fucked me through it, his strokes getting messier, more erratic.


    With a final, deep grind and a groan that sounded ripped from his chest, he followed me over.


    I felt him pulsing inside me, the hot rush of his release.


    The bed gave onest, dramatic shriek beneath us.


    Iy there, dazed, staring at the ceiling. My entire body ached.


    Not in a bad way, but in a "might need physical therapy" kind of way.


    Sebastian leaned over, fingers brushing my stomach.


    "Did I hurt you?" he whispered. "Where does it hurt?"


    His hand moved lower.


    I pped it away, wincing. "Don’t."


    "Let me check..."


    "Nope. Not happening."


    I pulled the nket tight around me and tried to stand.


    My legs gave out. I copsed back onto the bed.


    Sebastian frowned. "What’s wrong?"


    "I’m pondering life," I said tly. "Do not disturb."


    Truth was, my legs had turned to wet spaghetti.


    I saw stars. I was pretty sure I’d overdosed on dopamine.


    He sat beside me for a while, then said gently, "Let me carry you to the bath."


    I nodded.


    He did exactly what I asked—responsible chaos in action.


    I insisted on washing up myself and told him to change the sheets.


    When I came out, freshly clean andpletely drained, he scooped me up and tucked me into bed.


    Then he left... and came back with a stic bag.


    A pharmacy bag.


    My stomach dropped.


    "You didn’t," I said.


    "Sebastian, I literally can’t..."


    He looked confused. Then reached into the bag and pulled out a tube.


    Ointment.


    I read thebel. Oh.


    "The pharmacist said three times a day," he said. "Let me help."


    He brushed his fingers over my cheek. The bedside light hit his face just right.


    My whole face went hot. "What did you even say to the pharmacist?!"


    "The truth."


    I stared at him. "I don’t wanna know."


    He pulled back the nkets and started applying the ointment—slow, careful, like I might break.