Page 7

Chapter Six

The soft sounds of a Foo Fighters classic roused me from sleep as I stretched and reached for my phone, eyes still closed. Andy must be home because there is literally no way Arna would ever listen to a song like this – Miley Cyrus being more her usual jam when getting ready for work.

Good lord I was nauseous this morning and coupled with the metallic taste in my mouth, I was confident it was self-induced. Shit, it had been so long since I’d truly let go, I forgot what a hangover was like and this was a vicious reminder. Haphazardly patting around on the bedside table, I felt nothing but space and I squinted in order to find what I was looking for.

My first indication that something wasn’t right was the cool glass top of the bedside table which should have been white. The large window framed in light grey trim overlooking the – wait, was that the ocean – my second indication. Suddenly wide awake, I remembered where I was and who brought me here.

Mr. 90% smoulder, 10% I may destroy you. Sebastian .

Vague recollections of dancing with Arna assaulted my memories as I struggled to connect the dots. Did we have hot, drunk sex I couldn’t remember?

As much as I definitely wanted to get under that I didn’t think I was quite there yet. Also I wanted to be fully sober to take in what I assumed would be smooth muscle and defined lines because that man was going to keep my sexual appetite fuelled for my entire life.

Ripping the sheets from my neck I investigated the state I was in. While I was wearing a large grey t-shirt, my dress from last night was still firmly on, my underwear also in place. Phew!

The palatial ambience of the room was helping with the awkward uncertainty of what I was going to do next, and then like a tidal wave of all you want to forget, I stilled, panic rising as I was assaulted with memories of exactly what happened last night.

Raising the sleeve of the shirt, I turned my arm, my forehead pinching as my fingers traced the deep red marks mirrored across both arms.

Six months.

Six months of nothing and the first time Arna and I went out alone, he found me. The viciousness of entrapment lay heavy in my chest. He found me. He knew where I was and the light at the end of the tunnel moved that little bit further away.

My stomach tightened as my fear amplified. Taking deep breaths to hold the tears at bay, a uniquely fresh masculine fragrance, almost aquatic in its purity, filled my senses. I reefed the shirt I was wearing towards my face, inhaling heavily as awareness dawned, calming the fear that had taken shape in my stomach.

The confines of his sleek, black car came flashing back as I remembered doing my best to discreetly fill my lungs with the same scent from last night.

Feeling slightly more composed, albeit entirely hazy on specifics, I looked around the room noticing the attention to detail in the furnishings. The large bed was covered in soft grey linen and hugged by two bedside tables with glass tops. The single cream chair with a navy pillow placed on a 45 degree angle, sat adjacent to my perfectly positioned shoes. There was no chance I had done that given the state of my hangover, which raised the question – who the heck did?

The mirrored wardrobe on the other wall reflected the large window that overlooked the beach. Sitting up a little more, I could see the waves breaking softly on the sand. Throwing the covers back, I stood, waiting for my head to stop spinning before I padded towards the window. The view was as stunning as expected, the sun just beginning to show its face over the horizon.

The music changed, the soft hues of Coldplay filtering through the walls as I stepped out of the room on a mission to locate the source. With each of my strides the music increased in volume and I halted when I heard heavy breathing coming from the end of the hall. The last thing I needed was to get caught watching him doing something I wasn't meant to be seeing – regardless of the way that made my lady parts beat along with the bass of the song. Craning my neck around the corner, I caught the reflection of the room through another large walled mirror and I quietly gasped at the sight before me.

Sebastian working out.

Despite my foggy memories of his physique from last night, his back muscles were a pleasant surprise as he raised his arms on a metal bar and lifted himself into a pull up. No wonder he had so many mirrors, I would stare at myself all the time too if I looked like that. Hot damn.

He was all bare skin and sweat except for the black athletic shorts hanging low on his hips and I very nearly growled in delight. The sunrise creeping in through the window painted his skin in a soft golden glow and highlighted the beads of moisture that slowly cascaded down his incredibly toned back to the top of his waistband.

I was riveted to the spot – he made himself pretty difficult to ignore doing things like this with a lady present. The term lady used loosely given my unbathed, unbrushed appearance.

The mere thought of having slept in the house of a man who looked like that was enough to send my wanton thoughts into overdrive. With a thirsty realisation, I crossed my legs tightly.

Despite knowing nothing other than his name, he was without a doubt, the most delectable human I had ever laid eyes on.

And – I – wanted – him. Underneath or on top, honestly, I would take either. Beggars can't be choosers and I was definitely a beggar, or at least I would be for him .

As I stood processing the plethora of feelings coursing through me I noted fear wasn’t one of them. That comprehension was enough to send me on a search for my phone. I was definitely going to be breaking some kind of moral code here – given I was a guest and he had been nothing but hospitable – but the rules of sisterhood were stronger and I needed to speak to someone before I ceremoniously told Seb just how much I wanted to straddle him over his weights bench.

Being in the presence of such a man and not feeling a sense of panic was new for me. Given I had very little experience and had recently been treated as someone’s personal punching bag, the mere thought of another person in this capacity was enigmatic. Especially given everything that happened last night.

It was during that epiphany that I eventually found my purse and phone, tucked neatly into the drawer. I smiled to myself as the comforting warmth of being taken care of saturated my insides. As anticipated, there were messages already waiting for me.

Arna

You okay, loves? I can’t believe that bag of dicks was at Nexus!!! I have no doubt you’re fine as Seb is a good guy and I’ve forced Andy to call him three times already. But please tell me you are not wallowing, elbow deep in a bag of Cherry Ripes.

I realise you’re probably just asleep but message or call whenever you see this – seriously, I need an excuse to leave these meetings. Snooze fest! Any time. Love you!

I smiled as I hastily replied to her texts. She really was the best.

Hey, so sorry. I definitely passed out last night.

Ummm also… why did I agree to come to Seb’s house?

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY!

HE IS DOING PULL UPS IN HIS APARTMENT WHICH OVERLOOKS THE BEACH.

WHAT THE FUCK?

I hope your hotel room is nice. Send me photos.

BUT ALSO, HIS BACK IS AS GOOD AS HIS FOREARMS. SHIT. YOUR GIRL IS IN TROUBLE.

I’m okay though. Hungover and horny, but okay.

I think I’m definitely still a little drunk or maybe just in need of my vibrator.

DID I SAY WHAT THE FUCK??

Keep you posted.

Love you. xx

Placing my phone back in the drawer, I grabbed the pillow resting beside the one I'd slept on and drew in a deep breath. Andy knew Sebastian and despite the absurdity of this entire morning, if they both trusted me being here, I knew at a minimum, I was safe. And truthfully, there were worse places I could be. Places which didn't offer complimentary subscriptions to some homegrown OnlyLifts . Nothing like some gym voyeurism in a borrowed t-shirt and your dress from the night before to remind you to check your audacity. And for someone at my current point in life, I had a fair amount.

If nothing else, I was reminded of how long it had been since I'd been touched, even by myself. I hadn’t been able to even think of pleasure for longer than I cared to admit, focusing purely on my own journey and mental health. Yet, within the space of two weeks, I was top of my therapy class – ignoring the fact I was the only student – had attempted an impromptu kitchen brawl and was currently thirstier than a camel in the Sahara. Overall, was on the up and up. Although, maybe if I lost this new third person thing I would be closer to success.

Laying down, I pulled the pillow closer so I could breathe in the Lord’s aroma as I ordered the events of last night and how I went from someone who wanted to fool around with the mysterious storm cloud currently vacating the next room to a broken hearted, miserable being.

At some point I must have drifted back into the land of the unconscious because when I next woke, it was to the rumblings of a coffee grinder. As if there was a greater sound on all of this planet.

Checking my phone again, I was surprised to see it was nine in the morning and I'd slept another three hours.

Three freaking hours!

Apparently some part of me felt comfortable enough to overstay my welcome.

Another couple of messages greeted me as I languidly stretched before reading.

Arna

HAHAHA YES! All the best, Sister. I made Andy remind Sebastian that I would bury him alive if you weren’t in one happy piece when I arrived home tomorrow.

Hope you’re okay. Genuinely. We need to talk about dick bags later. For now, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do (which isn’t much) xx

Oh, and suite is fine. Wish you were here though xx

Shaking my head at the absurdity that was my best-friend I laughed quietly, not wanting to let Sebastian know I was awake. I put my phone away and calculated my next move in what was a very strange situation. Using the mirror, I did my best to arrange my hair into some form of decency without the help of a hair tie, and moved into the ensuite. My earlier assumption was correct. It was immaculate and smelt strongly of the man that was currently causing me to ache in places I thought had long ago died.

Two sinks sat side by side, raised on a white marbled countertop. The shower was freaking huge, boasting two shower heads and could easily fit at least six people, with a bench seat lining one of the walls. The sultry and seductive things we could do in there, I lewdly thought as I peeked inside.

Exiting the bedroom, I padded down the hall, spotting Seb, again with his bare back to me, standing in front of what I assumed was the machine responsible for making my stomach growl. His faded denim jeans hung low on his hips and his dark hair was damp. The ensuite hadn’t been used though and I wondered how many bathrooms this place had and if he could kindly show me their whereabouts next time before taking his shower. Would my subscription extend to viewing that, I pondered.

Discarding my highly inappropriate thoughts, I cleared my throat, suddenly uncertain on what to say.

Hey, dude, thanks for the bed. I’ll be off now. But before I go, can I lick your skin really quick and where can I purchase a bottle of your scent – asking for a friend. Also, I’ll take a latte to go.

Turning to face me, I was certain my ovaries high-fived each other at the sight of his bare torso. Like his back, he was toned right down to the low riding jeans and I visibly swallowed. His forearms were as delectable as I remembered, and I quickly followed the trail of ink which lined one arm. Like what I’d already seen of the art, each piece was meticulously crafted, lacking in colour, yet visually striking all the same.

Everything about him was sleek and simplistic. The total opposite to me.

Sigh .

When I pulled myself together and brought my gaze back to his face, my cheeks flamed at his look of indifference. Not a morning person, Sebby babes?

Desperately trying to ease the tension or perhaps signing my own death warrant, I was speaking before thinking.

“You’re going to have some serious frown lines if you don’t relax that face of yours.”

His brow raised the slightest amount and I took it as a win, awkwardly taking a seat on one of the stools which lined the large black bench top.

“Do you drink coffee, ?” He asked, his face still unreadable. I shuddered as the sound of my name leaving his mouth sent a shiver down my spine.

Had a man ever made me a hot beverage without me having to line up, order and pay? I knew the answer to that was a big fat no as I did my best not to bat my eyelashes and offer him my first born child.

“Doesn’t everyone? Caffeine is all that gets me through the day at the moment,” I answered, before I thought it through enough to realise he didn’t care about the details of my life, he was simply being polite and offering because he was making one for himself.

“What’s your order?” His voice was huskier this morning, the deep tones from last night now laced with a post-sleep haze.

“However you make it will be fine. I’m fussy so you probably won’t have my regular order.” I grimaced at his back, softly slapping myself on the forehead as I inwardly cringed at my response. I was definitely out of practice with even the most basic of conversation.

“Tell me how you take your coffee.” There was an authoritative tone to his statement yet those piercing eyes, kind in the most interesting way, ensured I didn’t misconstrue his intentions.

“Caramel latte. What’s yours?” His shoulders shook a little and it was obvious my answer entertained him.

“That’s barely coffee, but I think I can manage it. I drink a double shot piccolo,” he turned to look at me briefly as he moved to open the cupboard above the coffee machine. Interestingly, there was no colour in this room either and just like everywhere else, everything was intentionally placed in its own perfect spot. Other than the accents on each cupboard, the room was sparse, keeping in line with the rest of the apartment.

I was an organised person. I used a daily planner with various coloured post-it-notes to ensure each day was catalogued and everything was completed but this categorisation was next level. Some people – Arna – would describe it as anal retentive, but to me it made the man currently grinding the coffee beans, infinitely sexy.

With arms like that, back muscles worthy of their own billboard and an eye for detail – the dating profile was writing itself and I was swiping right, one thousand times over.

“Can’t say I’m surprised your coffee order is no nonsense.” Again, I scrunched my face towards his back, berating myself at how inept I was at flirting. As much as I hoped he found aggressive women with no filter attractive, I pondered why I was so snappy this morning. Second guessing myself to this degree was new and something I found irritating, although I didn’t know how to act in this situation.

“What do you mean?” he asked, amusement in his voice as he grabbed a bottle of syrup from the pantry and moved to the fridge. Opening the double glass doors he reached inside for the milk. This guy was a mystery and as I watched him making me a beverage, still a foreign concept, I realised it was one I wanted to solve. Like, why did he stock caramel if his coffee was so simplistic? Why was he choosing to indulge my request for an order many people scoffed at and why did he look so fucking delectable at 9:00am.

“Everything about you seems clean and calculated,” I answered cautiously, “meticulous, I suppose.” Not wanting to make myself appear any more foolish than I already did, I stared at my nails before changing the trajectory of the conversation. “Anyway, thanks for bringing me here. Last night was interesting. I don’t usually drink that much and it’s been a while since I’ve been out at all let alone drunk. You helped me when I really needed someone. So, thank you.” I couldn’t look at him, instead pulling at a tiny piece of cotton on the hem of my dress. I wasn’t used to being so vulnerable but I could see Suzie smiling at that little display of self-empowered honesty.

A whiff of coffee pulled me from my mental drift and I closed my eyes, listening only to the sounds of the machine as I waited for his reply. I could feel his gaze boring into the top of my head and when the silence became unbearable I glanced up self-consciously and straight into his eyes.

“You are terrifying. You know that, right?” I blurted.

God, pre-caffeinated was on a roll this morning.

His lips tugged at the side and if I thought serious Sebastian was a good-looking man, he had nothing on the smirking version. His eyes softened and for a second he lost that edge he kept around himself.

I wonder what your story is …

“So I’ve been told,” he replied, “Also, you don’t need to thank me.” He didn’t rush me for details even though he probably realised there was more to know. His introspection extended to those around him and it was a rare quality which I found considerably kind.

He moved his eyes to my arms where I knew the bruises lay and I instinctively covered them with my hands, crossing my arms over my chest in the process. Sympathy was the last thing I wanted from him. My past was my own and it was baggage he was in no position to carry nor should he feel burdened to, given we were very nearly strangers.

He placed the clear mug on the bench in front of me, laying a small spoon next to it and I took a moment to admire his hands as he did so. The slight red of his knuckles drew my attention, and I was hit with the memory of Sebastian using said fist in my defence.

“Your hand. You hit him.” For me . He hit Lucas for me. Instead of feeling uncomfortable, I noted my initial response was pure confusion followed by concern.

I lightly grazed my fingers over his angry knuckles and the same spark I felt when I awkwardly touched his stomach again zapped through my arm and across my chest. “Are you oka–”

Not waiting for me to finish, he yanked his hand away and the sting of rejection replaced my worry.

“Sorry,” I mumbled more out of habit than anything else.

“I’m fine. He deserved it.” There was a subtle change in his demeanour. His shoulders were still, his face no longer holding any hint of playfulness. I was trying to hear what he was saying but cognisant of what I assumed was anger, I snapped my spine straight and nodded. Agreeing was the most important thing to ensure I didn’t upset him any further as I so often seemed to do in the past.

Always agree.

It would be the least intrusive on his moods even if it was the opposite of what I wanted to do. Wanted to say. Keep my actions and behaviour as predictable as a clock’s pendulum.

His voice was softer when he spoke next. “You can also stay here again tonight and Andy and Arna can come get you tomorrow once they’re both back in Sydney.”

“Wait,” I said hastily, my fears suddenly clouding my vigilance to agree. “I can’t stay here again. I need to get home. I don’t have any clean clothes…” I fumbled, trying to think of all the reasons the idea wouldn’t work, “and I have an appointment later today,” I added, hoping Suzie could fit me in for the emergency appointment I was yet to book. He sipped his drink slowly, giving me space to unpack my rattling mind. He was as confusing as I was with his thoughtful musing one minute and confident dominance the next.

Reminded of my own drink, I relished in the warmth of the glass and the hint of caramel encased in the steam. Though my vacillating examination prevented me from enjoying it as much as I usually would.

“Where is your appointment? I will take you.” He was calm, allowing no room for argument, yet his words hosted no hint of aggression or threat. It was an assertiveness I wasn’t able to interpret. Was he being unselfish by helping and overcoming potential barriers or was this a ruse?

“It will be a video call, if I can secure an appointment, but I don’t have my laptop and it’s…” I was suddenly nervous. I hated the look of piteous understanding I received when I admitted this and that was the very last thing my hungover brain wanted from Sebastian.

“It’s with my therapist,” I answered, waiting for the predictable retort.

He gave no visible reaction to my admission. No scrunch of his brows in judgement or scoff to humiliate me.

“You can use my laptop. Andy and Arna aren’t home until tomorrow and I live alone so you won’t be disturbed. I leave for work soon and you can call me if you need anything. Does that work for you? If it doesn’t, I can take you home, I just don’t want Arna coming after me. She has made multiple threats against my life so I assume you must be an important commodity.” He smiled kindly, the right side of his mouth lifting that little bit higher.

“Hardly. I’m more of a burden,” I whispered more to myself than him. I wanted to argue, bolster more of a fight, the idea that I would stay here again was ridiculous. There was no need. I would be fine, and his insistence made no sense as he didn’t even know the history I had with Lucas. I should probably just cut my losses and go, the idea of troubling him any further making me twitchy. But the fear which accompanied seeing them still loitered, making me genuinely consider his offer.

Arns’ words from earlier replayed in my mind, Andy will vouch for Seb – If you don't look after her I will put you in a bodybag . Typical outrageously supportive behaviour from my firecracker bestie and it cemented my reply even if I wasn’t entirely convinced.

“Okay. I’ll stay another night,” I agreed, knowing as soon as he left I was going to call Arna to make sure this was the right decision and if there was even a hint of hesitation, I was hightailing it back to the confines of her apartment and they were unknowingly agreeing to a permanent roommate.