Page 56 of Shark’s Pride

Quietly, I said, “I enjoyed this. Thank you for being a good sport.”

With a smile of gentle pleasure, he moved my hands under the warm water with his. “It was my pleasure. I like discovering new things with you.”

I giggled softly. “We didn’t really ‘discover’ painting pottery, though.”

“It was a new discovery for me,” he defended. “And I learned a lot about you tonight.”

“You did?” My bafflement was genuine.

“Well of course. It’s nice to just spend time, just the two of us.”

I couldn’t argue with a word of that, so I didn’t. It was much easier to gaze at Bas in his smooth surety, even as he performed something as basic as reaching for paper towels. After pulling a few out from the dispenser beside the sink, he dried my hands first. While he grabbed a couple more to dry his own, I noticed another studio employee stepping over to our table. She was no less smitten with Sebastian than the paint station girl, proven by her flitting mien as Sebastian handed her his black credit card.

I fought down a grimace. If I didn’t want us to be sealed away in his mansion like butterflies in jars, I had to get used to moments like this. The inner pep talk lasted for all of fifteen seconds before I gave in to the urge to press my hand to the middle of his chest and insist, “You know, I’d like to discover new things about you too. This shouldn’t be just about me.”

A wave of subtle feeling crossed his face, but I couldn’t decipher the mixture of shadows and shifts. “You already know Pia, Vela, and Grant.” He scooped up my purse and handed it to me, obviously grateful for the busy distraction. “There isn’t much more to tell.”

As soon as I accepted my bag, he visibly stiffened again. Sebastian Shark did not like talking about himself in any way, shape, or form. But another glaring clarity? If we were going to have any sort of relationship, his resistance needed to end. Only…how? This was my tenth gentle prod in just as many days at the issue—and his tenth sweet but stern brushoff.

Despite that, I was so tempted to push again, just this once. Whether he realized it or not, most people found Bas fascinating.

The dilemma dogged me as Joel pulled the car up and we climbed into the back seat. As soon as we were shut in and private, Sebastian pulled me close. A million promises danced in his eyes, filled with sexy and passionate intent—but I was compelled to stick to my courage now. Just this once…

“Okay. I…uhhh…thought of a question for you now.”

“Why does this suddenly feel like truth or dare?” he deadpanned.

“It shouldn’t. I thought we were just getting to know each other. Like we have been all night. Plus, I’m curious.” I paused, studying his features one more time before introducing my question. “Why is there so much bad blood between you and Viktor Blake?”

Tense muscles. Sharp inhale. Stiff posture.

Were those his reactions or mine? A little of both, maybe? Confirmed reality and not my imagination though, when he pointedly slid away, causing an unwelcome chill to creep across my whole body.

I longed to take back every stupid word of the question. To rewind time and go back to the warmth, safety, and strength of his embrace.

“It’s not something I want to talk about,” he said tersely, and I wanted to respond with all the “right” kinds of things, like compassion and understanding. Instead, my teeth locked and my nerves frayed.

I clamped back the command I really wanted to finish with.

Explain.

The intent must have glinted in my eyes anyhow, because when I pulled up and repositioned to face him, Sebastian rivaled a warrior statue for stony resistance. But seconds before he answered, the stone crumbled at the edges. Only the edges.

“I just do not want to talk about it, Abbigail.”

“With me or in general?”

“That’s a redundant question.”

“So you’re telling me they’re one and the same?”

“Are you telling me they’re not?”

The massive stone to which I’d compared him rammed to the center of my chest. “I guess I was telling myself I had moved out of the ‘general population’ category,” I croaked as all the light in my spirit shrank, inch by agonizing inch. “But thank you for letting me know my place in your world. Much appreciated.”

Sebastian seethed. “Why are you doing this? Did we not just have a pleasant evening? Did I not just sit and paint fucking pottery with you for three hours of my life that I will literally never get back?” The glare he sliced my way could have cut a glass pane with razor-sharp accuracy.

“Sebastian.” With every new word he spoke, meaner and more cutting than the one before, he was pushing the hilt further. On cue, tears welled in my eyes. They pricked, burning hot, in the corners. I rolled my eyes heavenward, begging for the damn drops not to fall.