Lockout (11 page)

He laughed loudly. "Fair enough. Although I have to say, if commandeering your clothes causes you to dress like this every day, I'm not sure I'll be giving them back any time soon. Are you naked under there?"

I grazed my teeth over my bottom lip and tried to look innocent. "Maybe."

He made an appreciative noise. "Well I have to say, you look fucking sexy wearing my clothes."

"So it is yours?" I asked, grinning widely.

He sighed. "Regrettably, yes. Let's just say I was going through a phase."

I laughed. It was impossible to picture Sebastian looking anything other than perfectly dapper — even now, naked, save for a pair of loose fitting slacks, he looked stunning — but it was nice to know he was human too.

My stomach rumbled as my brain finally registered the smell of oil and eggs. Looking around, I realised that breakfast was already well on the way. There was coffee brewing in a rather elaborate drip filter pot, and several fry pans were sizzling on the stove. Sebastian was busy flitting between them, spatula in hand. There was something about the image that made me giggle.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"Nothing, I just didn't take you for much of a cook."

A look of mock offence crossed his face. "And why would you think that?"

"I don't know. I just assumed you'd have somebody to do it for you."

"Because money means you never do anything for yourself?"

"I didn't say that! It's just an amusing image. The millionaire dom who liked to cook. It's like a bad erotic book title."

He grinned. "Even us steely sadists have to eat."

"Well it smells great." I slipped closer to survey what was on offer. "Mmm, Chorizo for breakfast? You're living dangerously."

"I do everything dangerously, Sophia," he deadpanned. We both laughed.

"You know, I honestly can't remember the last time a guy cooked me breakfast," I said, taking a seat as he slid a plate in front of me. "I have to say, I kind of like it so far."

He joined me at the bar. "Sounds to me like you've been dating the wrong guys."

"You can say that again." As much as I willed it to stay put, the smile fell from my face. I hated that two years later, Connor still had the power to hurt me, but he did. Just thinking about him made my stomach knot with shame.

Sebastian gazed at me for several seconds, his expression mirroring my own. "He must been one hell of a bastard."

I nodded. "He wasn't exactly boyfriend of the year."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring him up."

I sighed. As much as it hurt to discuss, I still felt a little like I owed Sebastian an explanation for my past behaviour. "It's fine. I should be able to talk about this stuff by now."

He hesitated, but took the hint. "What happened between you two exactly?"

"Nothing worth talking about. He was rich and charming, I was young and naive. It was a match made in heaven... for him at least."

"Were you together long?"

"A few years. Long enough to make me feel like an idiot for ever trusting him." It came out more bitter than I'd intended.

"Hey," he said, reaching out to stroke my arm, "everybody's allowed a mistake, here or there. God knows I've got my share."

"There's a difference between a mistake and outright stupidity. All the signs were there — unexplained nights away from home, mysterious texts — but he always had an excuse ready, and I ate them up. Looking back on it now it seems so fucking obvious."

"People don't behave rationally when they're in love. You can't hold that against yourself. Besides, from where I'm sitting, you're not the one that really fucked up."

"Oh?"

He smiled. "You're a strong, beautiful, amazing woman, Sophia. He may have had you for a year or two, but he gave you up. One day, someone is going to have you forever, and then they're going to be the ones making
him
look stupid."

I stared at him for several seconds, a rush of some foreign emotion blazing in my belly. Talking about Connor always left me feeling angry and embarrassed, but somehow Sebastian had washed all that away with just a few lovely words.

"Well, it's hard to argue with that," I said.

"Then don't."

We moved on to lighter topics. Sebastian had several less than flattering stories about Thomas. I think he was just trying to get revenge for 'Locky'. The whole experience was a bit of a revelation. Every time I was with him, he revealed a new side to himself, and I had to admit, lazy Tuesday morning Sebastian was quickly becoming my favourite. As fantastic as the sex was, it was nice just sitting around and chatting with him too. Away from prying eyes he seemed more relaxed; the professional superman persona was stashed away in the wardrobe alongside his racks of designer suits. Here he was just Sebastian, a man who wore old clothes and cooked scrambled eggs and delivered sweet words over coffee. What's more, he seemed at ease doing those things with me.

In spite of what Thomas had said and the initial discussions between Sebastian and I, it was hard not to feel like things were changing. Our last two nights together had been anything but casual, and it seemed impossible he didn't feel it too. The word 'forever' lingered in my mind. I didn't know how to take that comment. Was there more to it than simple comfort? Part of me wanted to think so.

After breakfast, we found our way back to the bedroom. He told me to leave his shirt on while he fucked me, pinning my arms behind my back and whispering dirty things about how hot I looked in his clothes. There were no cuffs or paddles or lengths of rope, just the unbreakable strength of his hands and the exquisite pressure of his cock. It was more than enough.

Afterwards, we lay snuggled in bed, flushed and glowing and blissfully satisfied. I desperately didn't want the morning to end, although I knew I couldn't delay much longer.

"Has anyone ever told you you tend to go above and beyond the call of duty?" I asked, dozing against his chest.

He began stroking my shoulder. "In what way?"

"Well, I tasked you with cheering me up, but apparently you weren't satisfied with that. Right now, I've left cheerful way behind. Seriously, you can't even see that shit anymore. I'd say I'm well into blissful territory. You deserve a commendation, sir."

His hand froze. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Next time, I'm totally going to call in sick and see how far we can push this."

There was a pause. "Next time?"

"Next time we do this. I'll tell you; a girl could get used to sleepovers and homemade breakfasts."

The silence that followed should probably have set alarm bells ringing in my head, but I was too content to really notice. All I could think about was how for the first time, it felt like things were really coming together for us.

How wrong I was.

CHAPTER TEN

It turned out that I needn't have worried about being relegated to the bench again. The Wrights case had hit the front page once more after a new batch of victims came forward, so we were ramping up our efforts. For now, it was all hands on deck.

It was fascinating, and a little horrifying, to be a part of. A perfect illustration of the power mega companies can bring to bear when profits are under threat. I was no stranger to the greed of big business, but there was a callousness about their approach that made even me balk. They were like a truck, calmly driving along, ignoring every traffic signal. Most people managed to dive out of their way, but those that didn't weren't even worth a second glance. They were just squashed underneath like bugs. In spite of the pain and hassle a proper trial would involve, part of me hoped they refused to settle. The more I read, the more I wanted Little Bell to crush them in the court room.

Nothing came of the situation with Jennifer, so I figured she'd just been messing with me for her own enjoyment. I felt a little stupid for overreacting. It wasn't a big deal in the grand scheme of things.

I should have been happy that I was finally working on my dream project, but I couldn't really enjoy it. Something had changed with Sebastian. There was no doubt in my mind anymore that my feelings for him had grown, but ever since our morning together, his seemed to have moved in the opposite direction.

It wasn't that he was ignoring me. He still messaged every day or two, but they were short and monosyllabic and lacked any of the warmth I'd come to expect. In person he was no better. Aloof, almost to the point of being cold, we rarely had a discussion that lasted more than a few minutes. That amazing man from just a few nights ago was nowhere in sight.

I clung on, hoping it was just stress. Over the next two weeks, our encounters took on a fairly predictable rhythm. A spontaneous text message, a frenetic sexual rendezvous, and then a hasty departure. On the surface, it was great. I was working overtime, even by my standards, and it was the sort of comfortable arrangement that fit perfectly around that. The problem was that wasn't the kind of comfort I was looking for anymore. I often found my mind wandering back to that morning chatting over coffee, and to the night before, to the overpowering rightness I'd felt as I drifted off to sleep cocooned in his arms. And the more I thought, the more I longed for that closeness again.

"You could stay, you know," I said to him one night, as he stood up and began to gather his things.

"I really should get home." He even looked different now. There was a permanently harried cast to his eyes that I'd never seen before.

"Is everything okay?" I'd tried several times to pry something out of him, even the tiniest hint of what had gone wrong, but it was useless.

He nodded. "Yeah. I just have a lot to do, that's all." He tried shooting me a reassuring smile, but it didn't quite cut through the hardness on his face.

I didn't understand. Our connection had felt so real and so powerful to me, and I'd been so sure he felt it too. But now I was starting to doubt myself.

Maybe I really had just imagined everything. Maybe I had no idea how to read men at all. My past relationships certainly said as much. But if that was the case, could I keep going the way things were, knowing there was nothing more to it? It felt wrong to throw away something that was so theoretically perfect, but every night that we said goodbye, I felt my heart break just a little more.

Still, I wasn't quite ready to give up just yet. People always said the way to a man's heart was through his stomach, and that was one approach I had yet to try. So when the weekend rolled around, I sent him a text.

Sophia: Hey. Hope they're not working you to the bone over there. I thought maybe you could come around for dinner tonight night if you're free. I'm not much of a chef, but I do make a mean carbonara. Thought I could pay you back for breakfast the other week. Let me know.

He replied a few minutes later.

Sebastian: Not sure I should. But maybe I can swing by later on?

I'd expected it, but I still felt a pang of disappointment.

Sophia: Okay, sure.

But as the day progressed, my frustration grew. I kept turning his message over in my mind. It was the phrasing that bothered me. There was that word
"should"
again.
"Not sure I should."
That wasn't the same as
"Not sure I can."
It could mean that he was too busy or had something else on, but it could also mean that he simply didn't want to. If that was the case, then I was wasting my time. I tried to convince myself to stop overthinking it, but by the time the evening rolled around, I still felt uneasy.

Mostly out of stubbornness, I made a pot of carbonara anyway, and ate a bowl of it while reading on the couch. There wasn't much to do but wait. He hadn't given an exact time.

At about eleven o'clock, there was a knock at the door.

"Sophia," he said by way of greeting.

"Hey." Even with the turmoil I felt, I found myself smiling. It was good to see him. There was something addictive about the way I felt when we were together, some beautiful nexus of hormones and emotions that made everything seem a little brighter, a little more real. I desperately wanted to keep feeling that as often as possible.

Not even waiting until we'd made it inside, he moved in to kiss me, and for a few seconds, my body began to yield to his. But as he pressed me up against the hallway wall, his hand already teasing the curve of my ass, I felt something crack inside me.

"Sebastian... wait..." I said, forcing myself to pull back.

"What? Is something wrong?"

I closed my eyes for a second and cupped my face in my hands. "Just once in a while could we maybe wait more than a few minutes before you start feeling me up?"

His smile slipped. "I'm sorry. I just missed you, that's all. You know what your body does to me."

"It sounds like you missed my body a lot more than the rest of me," I replied, a little more harshly than intended.

He didn't seem to know how to reply to that.

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable in such an intimate position, I ducked under his arm and moved into the lounge room. He followed me in silence.

"I'm not sure I understand," he said, after about twenty seconds.

"Well that makes two of us." I hadn't planned to go on the offensive tonight, but the churning feeling in my stomach couldn't be ignored any longer.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked.

I laughed bitterly and shook my head. "Nope. You've done basically everything just the way you promised."

"So what's the problem?" I didn't respond. "Is it about dinner?"

I threw up my hands. "Yes... no... I don't know. I thought it would be nice, that's all. Spend a little time together. You've been distant, lately."

"We've seen each other three times this week."

I shot him a pointed look. "Distant and physically present aren't mutually exclusive."

He ran a hand through his hair and began pacing. He always seemed to do that when things didn't go to plan, as though enough steps would simply carry him away from the problem all together. "I don't understand what you want from me, Sophia."