Page 90 of The Flirty Forward

“Out, Sebastian.”

“Just so you know, when you’re ready of course, I have some really great ideas for underwear for you.”

“Out, Sebastian.”

“I’m thinking hot pink, black, lace. Oh, I saw—”

“Out Sebastian.”

He laughs. “Fine. I’ll leave. But I can’t wait until we get to that part of our relationship, Baby,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. He winks at me and closes the door.

Only when I’m sure he’s not going to come back in, do I strip down and climb into the hot water and sigh when I sink into the bubbles. I let the jets do their work as I relax. I can’t believe he’s even thinking about anything like that when I look as rough as I do. I put my head against the wall of the tub, but quickly nix that idea when it hurts the back of my head. My mind wanders to the events of Saturday. I scowl when I think of William showing up. I haven’t had a chance to talk to my parents about it yet, but that will be on my agenda for today. I wonder if I should just drive down to talk to them in person. Actually, I don’t wonder. That’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to nip this in the bud right now. With that thought firmly in mind, I wash my hair and body and shave. A few minutes later, I step out and dry off. I look at Sebastian’s hoodie and know it’s going to be way too big, but it will have to do. I put my bra on and then the sweatshirt. When I hold up the pants, I realize they are just not going to work. He's too much taller than me. I decide to just wear my jeans from Saturday, only I can’t find them. I look down and realize Sebastian’s sweatshirt is plenty long. I head out into the hallwayto track him down and find him in the kitchen. “Hey, have you seen my jeans?”

Sebastian turns to me and freezes. His eyes scan me from head to toe, and I fight the urge to squirm under his perusal. “Is there a reason you’re standing in my kitchen looking incredibly hot in my sweatshirt and no pants?”

I wave him off. “It’s not that big a deal.”

His eyebrows raise. He puts down the spoon he was using and walks over to me. There’s something in the way he walks toward me that makes me feel like prey. I fight the urge to back up. “I don’t think you understand how a guy’s mind works, Baby.” His voice is hoarse. “You can’t walk in here in just my sweatshirt, and not think it’s not going to be a big deal.” He closes his eyes. “Okay. Let’s just have this conversation at another point, preferably when you’re completely dressed—head to toe. But for now, Bri dropped off clothes for you while you were in the shower.” He nods towards a bag on the counter.

“Thanks. I’ll be right back.” Once I’m dressed, I head back to the kitchen. “So let me get this straight. I shouldn’t wander into the kitchen in just a sweatshirt anymore? I should be fully dressed at all times?” I ask, cocking my head to the side.

“Exactly.”

“Like in a turtleneck and jeans?” I ask.

“Perfect.”

“And a parka?” I add.

“Even better.”

“So not a silk robe then?” I ask.

“Yes. Wait, no,” he stumbles over his words.

“With a silk sash that unties the entire thing in one go?” I ask innocently.

His eyes narrow. “Are you messing with me?”

I blink innocently. “Who me? I have a concussion; I’m not responsible for anything I say or do.”

“Oh, you are completely responsible, Baby,” he says in a low growl. He moves towards me, but I retreat until I’m back against the wall. He closes in on me and puts his hands on the wall on either side of my head and lets his body weight fall against mine. “You have absolutely no idea what you do to me,” he says in a low voice as he nuzzles my neck.

“Oh, I think I have some idea,” I say right back. “It’s not my fault you have no self-control,” I taunt.

He sputters and pulls his head back. “No self-control? Is that what you think?” He growls at me, like legitimately growls at me.

My eyes widen. “Did you just growl at me?”

“I have the patience of a saint,noa eunuch,” he says. “Do you know how hard it’s been for me not to touch you, to kiss you like I’ve wanted to since the first moment I met you? I’ve had to wait forever.”

“Oh, poor baby,” I say with a grin.

He stares down at me. “You’re a vixen, you know that?”

“I know,” I say in a voice that sounds much more sultry than I’m used to.

“I think turnabout is only fair play,” he mutters, staring at my lips.

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