Page 10 of His Innocent Seduction

‘I haven’t had

sex,’ she replies very literally.

I respect that—the quickness of her mind. ‘Why not?’

She swallows, her eyes flicking away. My brain surges, certain that I’m onto something. This isn’t just happenstance—what happenstance could explain this, anyway? There’s a reason. A mystery. Something behind her choice not to have sex—and now, something behind her choice to sleep with me.

‘I just haven’t.’

‘I don’t buy it.’

‘Tough.’

I laugh. ‘Now, now, don’t get all defensive. Don’t you think I have a right to know?’

She shakes her head. ‘It’s just sex. That doesn’t confer on you any right except to fuck me.’

‘Another excellent point, Millie.’ I move closer, my eyes locked to hers, sipping my wine. ‘And yet...’

‘And yet?’ She has to tilt her head to look up at me.

‘I don’t want to be something you wake up and regret.’

Relief fleetingly passes across her face. ‘I won’t.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Because I’m in my head.’

I laugh softly. ‘And I want to be in your body.’ I push my hips forward so she can feel my rock-hard dick against her flat stomach. Her breath catches in her throat. She shivers. ‘But I’m not some teenager without a degree of self-control. If we do this, I want to take precautions.’

Her eyes spark with mine and there’s a silent challenge in her steel-blue gaze. ‘You think you’ve got self-control?’ she murmurs, ducking down and sliding out from under my arm, moving down the balcony a little way.

I watch, without following. ‘Yeah. Enough to know I have to be sure my partner in bed is there because she really wants to be.’

‘Oh, I want to be there,’ she promises, sipping her wine before placing the glass down on a table.

‘You’re beautiful,’ I say honestly.

She shrugs. ‘You don’t need to flatter me. I’m not here for compliments.’

I bite back a laugh. She is unlike any woman I’ve ever known.

‘I just mean you could surely have had your pick of guys at any time before now.’

Even in the subdued lighting of the balcony, I see her face pale. Curiosity grows—and also the certainty that I’m right. There’s more to this than just an insanely hot proposition. I’m good at reading people and there’s something about Millie that speaks of a vulnerability, something she’s working her hardest to hide from me.

I think back to every encounter we’ve had. To the way she spent the first month she came to O’Leary’s avoiding my eyes, like she wasn’t even sure how to talk to me, let alone look at me.

And now, this. Why?

Nothing adds up.

‘Millie...’ I groan, and now I step closer. Her chin tilts at a defiant angle. ‘I want you,’ I say thickly. ‘I’m surprised by how much, to be completely honest. But I’m not the kind of guy who takes advantage of anyone.’ Out of nowhere, I think of my mum, and the way my dad made an art form of walking all over her. I am not Clint Brophy. I never will be. I soften my voice. ‘If this is because you’re hurting or sad or something has happened, I need to know that now.’

She reaches for her wine again, sips it, then replaces the glass.

‘My mother died.’ She says the words clinically, but that doesn’t matter. I hear the throb of grief as it bursts through her.

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