Page 45 of The Sebastian Guarantee
“Your personal and professional lives are intertwined—two halves of a whole. What’s the first word that pops into your head?”
She sat a little taller. “Man-eater.”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “You mentioned that word last night. You’re sure you want to stick with it?”
“Yep, I want to roll into LETIS like a rock star. I want people to look at me and not be able to turn away. I want Jeremy Drewler to see me and wish he hadn’t been such a colossal—” She tapped her foot five times for butthole douche nozzle.
“A man-eater is in charge of her sexuality. She’s not afraid to embrace pleasure. Is that something you want to explore?” Sebastian inquired.
Hearing the wordspleasureandsexualitydrip from Sebastian’s lips sent a delicious shiver down her spine. She crossed, then uncrossed her legs. “Go big or go home, right?”
“You don’t have to be nervous. There’s nothing wrong with sex between two consenting adults who understand there are no strings attached to any physical encounter.”
“Uh-huh,” she answered as her brain started melting into gray matter mush.
“If the opportunity presents itself at LETIS,” he pushed on, “would you welcome the chance to have sex?”
Her lips parted, but nothing came out.
“I’m not asking you these questions to make you uncomfortable. By presenting possible options and scenarios, you’ll be better able to react.”
She engaged in another bout of leg crossing and uncrossing. “I wouldn’t sleep with an investor. That would feel like crossing a line. Still, if I met someone, like another innovator who I found attractive and appealing, I’d consider it.”
“Are you a good kisser?” he asked as nonchalantly as someone asking for the time.
Was that something people knew about themselves?
She twisted the cuff of the trench coat. “I assume I’m okay at it.”
His gaze dropped to her lips. “You’ve never gotten explicit feedback?”
She shifted in her seat. “I’ve never sent out a questionnaire or asked to be rated on a scale of one to five,” she blathered, feeling her cheeks heat.
“Kissing is an art, Phoebe,” the man purred.
“Mm-hmm.” Thanks to the tingle party between her legs, that was all she could get out.
“It’s good to get a baseline to know where you’re starting. If you want to come across as capable in your business life and sexually assertive in your personal life, you need to know your strengths in both areas. One complements the other.” He folded his hands in his lap. “I could help you obtain this information.”
Was he saying what she thought he was saying?
“Are you suggesting you’ll kiss me?” she shot back as wet heat joined the tingle party.
“It’s part of the man-eater transformation. Think of it as a data point.”
Sebastian delivered this statement as cool as a cucumber—wait, not a cucumber. He was cool and composed. She needed to be suave and poised. She wanted to give off a vibe that saidI’m in control. Had the fact that none of the men she’d kissed ever commented on her kissing meant she was bad at it? Maybe she was crap when it came to the physical stuff?
“I can see the wheels in your head turning, Pheebs,” Sebastian said, looking way more chill than she felt.
“I’m concerned I’m not very good at the sexy stuff. Maybe that’s why I haven’t found my match.”
He waved her off. “There’s no good or bad. There’s your starting point and what you need to do to sharpen your skills. Chemistry plays a crucial part, as well. If it’s not there, you might as well be kissing your—”
“Best friend,” she answered awkwardly. “There shouldn’t be any chemistry when kissing your best friend because you’re friends, right? You have friend chemistry, which has to be different than sexual chemistry.”
Without answering, he took her chin between his thumb and index finger and tilted her head up. Was this the kissing assessment? Had it started? Adrenaline coursed through her veins. She squeezed her eyes shut, scrunched up her face, and puckered her lips—basically her hot-girl face but the eyes-closed version.
Sebastian chuckled. “Please tell me this is not how you kiss.”
