Oh, God…Jane’s mouth went dry as their eyes met.
“Hey.” He moved aside to let her in, but she couldn’t make her feet move. She stood where she was, clinging to her purse and the sack from the drugstore. Finally, without a word, she charged back in the direction from which she’d come. She was about to break into a run when Sebastian caught her by the arm. He didn’t grab very hard, but he managed to stop her.
“Whoa, you’re not even going to say hello?”
She didn’t have an answer and he didn’t insist.
“Come on,” he coaxed, leading her into his room.
“I-I just came to…” She let her words fall away. She’d been about to make up some silly excuse for her sudden appearance, something besides the obvious, but why pretend? He knew why she was here. Even if he didn’t, he’d soon find out. She was holding a sack full of condoms.
“Jeez, your hands are cold.” He covered them, his fingers curling around the fists she was making in order to hang on to everything, including her composure.
She swallowed hard. “It’s chilly out.”
“I can get you warm,” he whispered and leaned in to kiss her neck.
“Is this crazy?” she breathed as his lips moved over her skin. “Because it feels crazy. I-I can hardly breathe. And my heart’s pounding so hard…”
“It’s not crazy.”
Jane wanted to cast aside all her inhibition. She’d promised herself she would. What fun would this be if she held back the whole time? But as his mouth slid up toward hers, he paused ever so slightly on the scar that remained from Oliver’s knife, and she was suddenly terrified she’d fail.
“Relax,” he murmured. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be stiff.”
He was trying to tease her out of her discomfort. She knew that because he was smiling-but her self-esteem had suffered such a terrible blow the joke made her fear he’d find her inadequate.
“Are you?” she asked.
He guided her hand to the proof, and her heart pounded even harder.
“I won’t push you to do more than you want,” he whispered. “I promise. If you feel I’m being too aggressive, you just let me know.”
She released her breath, but she didn’t remove her hand. She couldn’t. She was too curious, too captivated. On some level, she was actually surprised she could affect him to that degree.
With his knuckle, he tilted up her chin and stared into her eyes. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”
No. She’d never been beautiful. At twenty or thirty pounds overweight, she’d been overlooked in high school. It wasn’t until recently that she’d begun to turn heads. She would’ve loved the attention she received now when she was younger. At this point, she couldn’t take it seriously. No matter how thin or toned she became, she saw herself as the pudgy girl with acne and a personality that was just a little too eager. “You don’t have to say things like that,” she said. “This will be easier for me if you’re honest.”
He seemed taken aback by her response. “I am being honest.”
Was he? Or was he trying to create a fantasy? Maybe based on what she’d written as BrownEyedGirl. Was he playing into it?
“If you say so.”
“You don’t believe me.”
She had no response. Her lack of confidence wasn’t something she wanted to admit, and yet she couldn’t deny it, either.
“Maybe it’s time you started to,” he said and touched his lips to hers. She expected him to use his tongue, to get right down to business. Her fingers were still tracing his erection through the denim of his jeans. But she couldn’t imagine he’d want to waste much of his night with her. Wasn’t this kind of hookup all about quick satisfaction?
If so, he didn’t seem to be taking things very fast. He made that one touch very innocent and brief, and he didn’t pull her into his arms. He stepped away, taking the sack she’d been carrying.
“What have you brought?”
Jane could feel the heat in her cheeks as he looked inside.
“Wow. Either you’re planning to stay a few days or you’re seriously overestimating my ability,” he said with a laugh.
“Don’t get the wrong idea. I know this is just a onetime gig. But I didn’t know what to buy. I-” she shook her head “-I’ve never bought them before. Oliver always…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
“A selection is nice.” He tossed them onto the nightstand. Then he rested his hands on her shoulders, demanding her undivided attention. “I’m glad you mentioned Oliver because I want to tell you something. I’m not him, Jane. I’m not anything like him. I will never intentionally hurt you.”
Perhaps it was true, but as much as she’d changed in some respects, she hadn’t escaped the conditioning she’d received at Oliver’s hands. “I understand.”
“Can I pour you a glass of wine?” It was another attempt to put her at ease. She appreciated the effort, but she wasn’t sure even wine would work. Entering his room with a sack full of rubbers made her feel as if she’d just jumped out of an airplane-without a parachute.
Only she did have a parachute, she told herself. The fact that Sebastian was leaving town as soon as he’d solved the mystery of Malcolm Turner’s faked death was her parachute. This wasn’t a relationship. This didn’t require the deep consideration a relationship would. Her future didn’t figure into it, and neither did Kate’s. Which meant she could relax. It was just for tonight.
“No, thank you.”
He’d already picked up the bottle. “It might help,” he said, lifting it higher.
“I’d rather not miss anything. The next hour might have to last me for a few years,” she teased, but he didn’t laugh at her words. Apparently, he knew it wasn’t a joke.
He put down the bottle. “How about some music?” he said and turned the television to a music station. “Classical okay?”
She’d never made love to classical music, never listened to it at all, but the emotion surging through the piece appealed to her. She could relate to it. And she liked that it was different, that the music evoked no associations, no memories. “That’s…good.”
Draping an arm over the corner of the TV, he leaned against the dresser. “Is there anything I should know?”