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Now, I’m really confused. “I don’t understand.”
“Is your bathroom through here?” he asks, pointing at the bedroom as if we’re in a decent-size place instead of my tiny, one bedroom apartment.
“Yes.”
“Good. Come on.” He’s still got a grip on my elbow and as he propels me toward the bedroom, I suddenly get an inkling of how Alice must have felt when she fell down that rabbit hole. I’m lost, confused, intrigued. Going forward because going back isn’t an option. And neither, it seems, is standing still.
“Take your clothes off,” Sebastian tells me as we skirt my bed on our way to the bathroom.
“I just told you I’m not going to sleep with you again.”
“And I told you I wasn’t planning on that anyway.” He flips the light on in the bathroom, then goes immediately to my tub and turns the water on. “You need a bath.”
“Is that your way of saying I stink?” I can’t help being insulted, no matter how bizarre the situation is turning out to be.
“No. It’s my way of saying you need some aftercare.” Without so much as a glance at me, he grabs some of the bubble bath I keep on the ledge of the tub and pours a capful under the water.
“Aftercare?” The word feels strange and unfamiliar in my mouth.
He does look at me then. “You’re still dressed.”
“And you’re still taking a hell of a lot of liberties I’m not sure I want to give you.” My voice sounds strong, in control. And like I’m not actually melting at just the thought of immersing myself in the hot water.
“It’s a bath not a blow job.” He recaps the bubble bath, then straightens up. Crosses his arms over his chest. And just looks at me. “And I’ve already seen you naked.”
“Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean it’s going to happen again.”
He smirks at me, literally smirks, the jerk. “Oh, it’s going to happen again, Aria. Many, many times—starting with right now. Take your clothes off or I’ll do it for you.”
“I’ve about had it with your threats.” I wrap my arms around myself, squeeze tight. As if resolve alone will keep me from bending to his determination. As if it will keep me from breaking.
“I already told you. I don’t make threats.”
“Yeah, well, you can say something a million different times and a million different ways. It doesn’t make it true.” I learned that the hard way. “Besides, what if I don’t like baths?”
“Would you prefer a shower?” He bends, starts to turn the bathwater off.
It’s a simple response but the implications of it are anything but. Not for the first time, I think of how Carlo would have handled this situation. The posturing, the exerting of his authority, the determination to control the situation—and me, no matter what I said.
The more I learn about Sebastian, the more I realize he isn’t like that.
And the more I want to give him.
“No.” I finally answer, clearing my throat and looking anywhere but into his too-knowing eyes. “A bath sounds…good.”
Carlo would have gloated, but Sebastian doesn’t. He just nods, says, “Okay.”
And then we’re just standing there, staring at each other as the seconds tick by. The bathroom is small and the heat from the bathwater is already steaming up the air, making it thick and sultry and just a little hard to breathe. It lends itself to the surreal quality of the moment.
Or maybe that’s just the look in Sebastian’s eyes when he watches me. I don’t know and right now, I’m not sure it matters. Not when the result is the same—me lost and aching, drowning in lust and confusion and a fear I don’t want to acknowledge.
Because with Sebastian, for the first time in a very long time, it’s not my safety I’m afraid for.
“Do you want me to leave?” he asks abruptly, breaking the silence and the tension. “While you get undressed?”
I nod. “Yes. Please.”
“Okay. Call me if you need me.”
