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Luce tipped her head to the side. ‘Do you? Or are you just trying to get me into bed?’
‘I can’t do both?’ Ben joked, but Luce’s face was serious. He sighed. ‘Trust me, I wouldn’t do all of this just for sex.’ He pulled away, but her hand brushed his arm, a silent request to stay close, and despite the desperate urge to leave this conversation behind and retreat to his room with a bottle of whisky, Ben found he couldn’t move.
‘I have to know. Do you really not remember your twenty-first? Are you sure you’re not trying to make up for that night?’
Ben shook his head automatically. It hadn’t even occurred to him that he should.
‘Or finish what you started?’
‘I didn’t even remember until just now. I...I knew I hadn’t been kind to you back then. Maybe that was why I took you to dinner last night. Gave you somewhere to stay. This is something entirely different.’
Her teeth sank into her lower lip as she stepped forward, closer than before, so close that he could feel her breath through the cotton of his shirt. She looked up, her eyes bright, and Ben felt his breath catch in his chest.
‘Then the only thing I can think is that you wanted me here so you could hear me beg you to seduce me.’
God, yes. Heat flooded through his body at her words, fierce and unchecked. Her lashes fluttered shut over her eyes and Ben knew this was his chance. This was the closest she’d let herself get to asking for what she wanted. This was the moment he should sweep her up in his arms and off to bed, like Owain kidnapping Nest.
And he couldn’t.
He couldn’t be what she remembered—alcohol on his breath as he pushed a kiss on her, whether she wanted it or not. He was a different man now, and she needed to know that. People really did change.
Stepping back caused him physical pain. His muscles were aching to stay with her, to pull her against his chest and hold her close.
‘Not like this,’ he said, his voice hoarse.
And then he walked away.
CHAPTER NINE
LUCE WOKE UP on Wednesday morning determined not to spend one more sleepless night on Ben Hampton.
She was through. From nights spent waiting for him and Mandy to kick everyone else out of the flat and go to bed at university, to the long, long night after she ran away from him in the hotel library, to that night in Chester, to last night, spent wondering and wondering. It was enough.
It didn’t matter if he’d changed his mind about seducing her. In fact it was a good thing that he hadn’t. Because the very last thing Luce needed at the moment was someone else needing her to take care of their lives. She had a book to write, after all, and Ben Hampton’s life was a mess—even if he was too busy trying to fix hers to notice it.
Actually, she told herself, staring up at the uneven ceiling of the cottage, it was probably all for the best. She’d made a decision eight years ago not to get involved with this man. A decision she’d renewed and confirmed in Chester, and again yesterday when he brought her to the cottage. She might have nearly broken that resolution because of too much wine and conversation, or because of a brief, misguided hope that people really could change, but that wasn’t enough. She should thank Ben, really, for not taking advantage of her vulnerable position and letting her stick to her beliefs.
Not that she was going to, of course.
Shifting under the sheet, Luce turned over with a sigh. The problem was that she wanted him. She might not be the most obviously sexual person in the world—but she was an academic, not a nun. Although they might as well be the same thing at the moment. Too much time working, researching, writing, lecturing... It didn’t leave a lot of time for romance. Or even just a fun encounter with a gorgeous guy.
But Luce wasn’t supposed to want that, was she? It wasn’t the way she was made. Wasn’t in her history. No, she was supposed to study, to learn, to improve herself. Sex didn’t improve anything in her admittedly limited experience. Hell, even Nest, in her restricted, disapproving time, had managed to have more sex with considerably more guys than Luce had.
Her head flopped back against the pillow and she finally admitted the truth to herself. She’d wanted Ben Hampton last night. And, more than that, she’d wanted him to make the first move—to take her—so that she could rationalise away her desire this morning. She’d wanted to be able to say it was a weak moment, that it was the wine and the romantic snowbound cottage. She’d wanted to be able to move on and forget it without admitting that sex with him was something she really wanted.
