Page 73 of The Sebastian Guarantee
She leaned against the tiled wall, taking in the view. “I love it when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Drop little British words and phrases into your American-pie dialect. Ireckonyou don’t even realize when you’re doing it, mate,” she answered in a British accent, because, why not?
He rinsed off and wiped the droplets of water from his face in a move she would have sworn played out in slow motion, or perhaps her brain was overheating and could only process her vision at a quarter speed.
“It usually happens when I’m experiencing strong urges,” he explained, shaking his head and ridding himself of the excess moisture like the hottest golden retriever on the planet.
She twisted a lock of wet hair, playing the part of the coy vixen. “And how strong are your urges now?”
“Off the charts, lass,” he said, rocking his toe-curlingly hot accent. He took a step toward her. Inches away, water droplets trailed down his ripped torso.
Feeling a few urges herself, she drew her fingertips down the hard ridges of his six-pack. “We should probably do something about that.”
He tilted up her chin and eased in but stopped when his lips were a breath away from hers. “Turn around and let me see that perfectarseof yours.”
“You’re a tease, Sebastian Cress.”
“And you love it. Stop faffing around and get to it,” he growled, still sounding all British-y.
And heaven help her! She was lucky she hadn’t fainted from the amount of raw sexual energy pulsing between them.
Snapping to it, she presented her ass like she’d just won first prize in a sexy wet-ass contest and pressed her hands to the glass. Barely a second passed before she felt his thick shaft against the small of her back. She inhaled a sharp breath, ready to have her body rocked shower-style. But he didn’t position himself at her entrance. Instead, he took her hair into his hands and started . . . washing it.
What?
She inhaled the floral scent of the shampoo, confirming that their naughty shower romp had morphed into a game of beauty shop. “In addition to life coaching, do you offer hairdressing services?”
He massaged her scalp, doing one hell of a good job shampooing her roots. “In this situation, yes.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Why?”
“Because I’m all for alleviating urges, but we’ve got work to do.”
“Exactly,” she shot back. “You should be working my body and making me call out your name.”
He chuckled and wiped the excess shampoo from her forehead. “We’ll get to that. First, I need to tell you why I let you sleep in.”
“Okay,” she answered, relaxing beneath the spray and quite enjoying the Sebastian Guarantee shampoo service.
“When I hit up the breakfast buffet,” he began, running his hands through her locks to wash out the soap, “I caught snippets of conversations—conversations about you. You’re all anyone could talk about.”
“You’re kidding?” she replied, completely caught off guard.
“You made one hell of an impression, Pheebs.” He added a dollop of conditioner to her hair and rubbed it in.
“But I didn’t talk to any investors.”
“You didn’t have to. The Sebastian Guarantee did the trick. The investors got a whiff, and that emergency door debacle—the little peek—turned out to be a genius move. Every person there got a glimpse of you, and that led to the buzz. Lots of buzz.”
“Wow,” she breathed.
“That’s not all,” he continued, excitement coating his words. “At breakfast, I heard several lifestyle investors talking about how good you looked and how they thought it would be brilliant to partner with you and connect you with clothing designers. Then there were the tech investors. They were salivating over your Munch Match app. I heard one guy tell another that the online global dating market is an eight-billion-dollar industry. Imagine if your algorithm is the best one. Think of what that means.”
Anxiety, thick and thorny, settled in her chest. Despite standing under the warm spray, a chill passed over her. She took a step away from Sebastian and rinsed the conditioner from her hair. “They were talking about Munch Match?”
He held her shoulders and turned her to face him. “It’s what you’re known for. Carla Lopez had her phone out. She was showing everyone her wedding photos. People want to find their love match, Pheebs, and they’ll do anything to make that happen.”
