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Edie had lost any sense of propriety over her own body during her illness, when she’d been poked and prodded and filled with toxic but ultimately life-saving chemicals. She’d vowed never to let herself feel so out of control of it again.
She stopped kicking the punching bag for a moment, sweat dripping into her eyes as sh
e absorbed that thought. She knew what was good for her body. And Sebastio was good for her body. She’d never felt so alive as she had last night in his arms. With his mouth on hers. On her breasts. His hand between her legs.
She ached for the fulfilment she instinctively knew only he could give her.
She didn’t regret telling him she was a virgin, but she regretted him stopping. He hadn’t stopped because he’d been turned off by her innocence. He’d stopped because of some kind of moral reasoning. Which incensed Edie now. It was as if he’d decided she wasn’t robust enough to handle him.
She wiped her face with a damp towel, her heart thudding with adrenaline as much as exertion. She wanted Sebastio Rivas. But was she willing to put herself on the line one more time?
When she’d been ill she’d believed she was going to die. It had only been when she’d started responding to treatment that she’d believed in another possibility.
Since she’d received the all-clear she’d been determined to make the most of her life. And yet she knew that some things still held her back. Little things—like the fear of letting her hair grow long again in case the illness returned. And a fear of intimacy because she’d missed out on that period of her life where she would have explored it naturally.
And then she’d met Sebastio Rivas four years ago and no man had come close to him since.
And now, amazingly, she’d met him again and he wanted her. This was an opportunity to move on with her life. To seize back control. Karma. The scenario she’d imagined the other evening—seducing Sebastio—suddenly didn’t seem so ridiculous.
With a sense of growing determination Edie went upstairs from the basement. It was dark outside. The snow had stopped falling. There wasn’t a sound. There was something otherworldly about knowing that they were completely cocooned, as if normal service had been interrupted. As if she could do anything.
Edie knew there was no way she’d have the nerve to do what she was about to do under normal circumstances.
She went into the library—the scene of last night’s humiliation. She didn’t look at where she’d been pressed against the shelves by his big body. Where her dress had been open and she’d pushed herself wantonly against his hand.
She went straight over to the drinks table and poured herself a shot of whisky, drinking it down in one go. The warmth slipped down her throat and sank into her stomach. Spreading outwards. Infusing her with a sense of confidence that she could do this.
Instinctively she seemed to know that Sebastio would be in his study—and, sure enough, when she stood outside the door she heard the low rumble of his voice on the other side. He was speaking in Spanish.
Without waiting for her nerves or a sense of rationality to kick in, Edie knocked on the door and went in.
* * *
Sebastio heard the sound and looked up from the tediously boring phone call to see Edie standing in the doorway to his study. His brain went completely blank for a long moment as he absorbed the fact that she was wearing tight-fitting Lycra jogging pants and a cropped vest top. Her hair was damp and her pale skin was glowing from exertion. She had a towel draped around her neck.
Sebastio had put the phone down before he even realised that he hadn’t ended the conversation. All he could see were her slender curves and those huge eyes. For a moment he wondered if he was going mad—conjuring her up.
‘I have something to say.’
She wasn’t a hallucination.
Sebastio stood up. He put out a hand. ‘Please, come in.’
She walked in and he caught her scent—musky. She’d obviously just been in the gym. He imagined how her skin must be warm and damp, as it would be after sex. Blood rushed south, emptying his head.
She stopped in front of his desk. Her face was set with an expression of determination and something else, something more vulnerable. He could feel the control he’d had to exert since last night fraying.
It made his voice curt. ‘What did you want to say?’
Edie almost lost her nerve then. Sebastio looked so remote. Formidable. She wondered if she’d dreamt up what had happened in the library. But, no...she could see it in his eyes. The glitter of heat. Banked. But there.
She swallowed. ‘I want you to make love to me.’
A muscle pulsed in his jaw. ‘I already told you, Edie. I won’t do it.’
Suddenly he’d discovered a noble conscience? Edie wanted to growl with frustration and remind him that he had a reputation as an international playboy.
‘Because you don’t want the responsibility?’ she asked. ‘Because I’m a virgin?’
