I have a theory that Sebastian’s obnoxious act is to keep people at a distance. He’s had the public fawning over him since before he could walk. He may be a natural performer, someone who doesn’t shy away from the spotlight, but that’s from afar. He doesn’t let people get close.
I know all about shields. I’ve had them since I was a kid. But the highest barrier I’ve had to erect was while working for Sebastian and ignoring all that potent attraction.
And he’s just rocked every one.
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to respond. My eyes fall to his sexily curved lips. My stomach loops for an entirely different reason than it did last night.
“I quit. I’m not changing my mind,” I say, softer now because of all these weird feelings rising in me.
His face darkens. But he swallows and looks away.
“We’ll talk about that more on Monday. When you’re feeling up to it.” His voice is gruff, deep with something I can’t quite name. “I have to go. I have a meeting at my agency. Stay and rest as long as you need. And also… maybe stay away from the tabloids for a few days.”
“Wait, why?”
He grimaces. “Do you recall the photographer that was outside the club?”
“Vaguely.”
“Well, he got a photo of the two of us.”
I wince. “Can you tell I’m smashed in the picture?”
“No.”
“Then why do you look so concerned?”
“I was trying to hide your face so he didn’t get a clear shot. So we seem a little… intimate.”
I must appear alarmed at his word choice because he waves a hand. “It’s not a big deal. You know the way the tabloids are. It will be buried soon. I’ll handle it. But you might want to avoid the media until the story dies down.”
“Trust me. I’m happy to avoid any photographic evidence of last night,” I say, my face growing hot.
“Good girl.” He nods and then shuts the door with a quiet click.
I lie back, staring at the ceiling and trying not to remember the husky way Sebastian saidGood girl,when a memory from last night pops up, fully formed. It’s the memory of me, lying freshly showered in bed. Still drunk. Still woozy. And him leaning over me.
And… there’s more. I try to reach through the hazy and faraway fragments.He kissed my forehead. I can still recall his soft lips. His nearness. How the scent of his cologne—one handmade just for him, with bergamot and something darker, heady, and rich—surrounds me.
And then everything comes back at once. So potent and concrete it steals my breath.
I was lying there, his lips on my forehead, and suddenly, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I couldn’t stand the distance. That I was leaving and I knew there would be no more days working together, nights of race cars going in circles. No making each other so crazy that in one moment I’d want to scream at him and the next I’d go weak with unexpected longing. My muddled brain kept shouting over and over that this was it.
This was my last chance to know.To know what it felt like to kiss him.
So I grasped him by his shirt and shifted my face up. His lips and mine were a breath apart.
I was aware enough to see his confused eyes. The furrow between his eyebrows. And then confusion turned to something else.
He leaned down. And I leaned up. Our mouths were so close. We were almost there. There was longing.So much longing. I closed my eyes, waiting for our lips to meet, holding my breath for it, wanting it with every drunken lonely atom of my being. But the kiss never came.
And I whispered something…
I think. And I think. But I can’t quite grasp what it was. Because the last thing I remember is falling back onto the feather pillows and the soft, soft mattress.
And I’m not sure if the fact that I can’t remember what I whispered is a blessing or a curse.
On Sunday,Sadie helps me build my new desk in our already cramped living room.
