The Reluctant Heiress: A Novella(29)

Nothing rational comes to mind. “It’s my bed now.”

His brow furrows with confusion. “I must be severely jet-lagged, because I think I just heard you say you’ve commandeered my bed.”

Sitting up and dragging the sheet with me, I shake my head into wakefulness. “Sorry, I didn’t think—I just heard today that you might be coming.” I look around the room, cluttered with my belongings. “Let me get my things.”

Sebastian looks around as well, his eyes widening. “Jesus, your shit is everywhere. I’m… well, I’m speechless.”

Lips quirking into a half-smile, he continues surveying how I’ve turned his tidy childhood room into an ungodly mess.

The reality of him actually standing in the room finally hits me, knocking half the breath from my lungs. His hair is still buzzed short, and he’s even leaner, like he’s lost weight for his current role. But these details are superficial—he’s Sebastian, the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

Emotions swirl through me, lust and need, nervousness and hurt.

I don’t want to be in a relationship where all we do is fight and fuck. Isn’t that what you said? Well, you’re right. That’s all we’re good at.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat lamely.

His eyes flash to mine, shining with wry humor. I’m so relieved by his amusement, his lack of animosity, that I just stare at him until he clears his throat.

“I’ll take the couch.”

My brain turns back on. “Don’t be silly, you won’t fit on that thing. Just… turn around so I can get dressed.”

Instead of turning, his eyes narrow on my bare shoulders. His throat bob as he swallows, and I quake when his burning gaze fastens on my face.

“Tell me you’re not naked in my bed, Candace.”

Heat floods my cheeks, my pounding heart seating itself between my legs. Fighting arousal and a growing need for impulsive, emotionally damaging decisions, I say tensely, “I swear to God, Sebastian, I really didn’t do this on purpose.”

He frowns a little. “I know that.”

“Okay, good,” I sigh out, then frown back at him. “So, turn around.”

He doesn’t move. Longing unfurls inside me, piercing bright. I remind myself that he doesn’t want me and said as much.

“Sebastian? What are you waiting for?”

“You have freckles,” he says softly.

I glance down, seeing them sprinkled over my shoulders and chest, then back up with raised brows.

“I’ve always gotten freckles in the sun.”

“I know. I just haven’t seen them since we were kids.” When his eyes find mine again, they’re melting chocolate, full of the same need I feel inside me.

“Sebastian,” I plead in a last-ditch effort for him to have more common sense than I do. Whatever feeling is in my voice, he hears it, and turns fast toward the door.

“Sorry,” he says tightly.

I slip out of bed and yank on a pair of sweats, then pull a sweater over my head. “Okay, all good.”

I grab the few necessities in reach—my phone, my wallet, car keys, and the near-empty journal I keep meaning to write in. As I spin toward the door, the journal slips from my fingers, hitting the floorboards before sliding across the room.

Sebastian picks it up, his fingers grasping the piece of paper sticking out of it. I close my eyes as he pulls the photograph free.

“Where did you get my senior picture?” he asks, voice slack with surprise.

“I, uh… found it the other day. Well, Nona found it. We were talking about… it.”

Sebastian winces. “You’re a horrible liar, Candy.”

My libido surges at the nickname, then plummets as he throws the photo onto the nearby desk. We stare at each other for a few moments; he looks away first.

“Thanks for the bed. Appreciate it.”

“Sure, definitely,” I stammer, and move toward the door. He crosses the room to sit on the bed, and out of the corner of my eye I see him kick off his shoes.

I’m halfway free of this nightmare when his voice stops me.

“Candace?”

My hand on the knob to close the door behind me, I turn with raised brows. “Yes?”

Whatever thoughts are sliding behind his dark gaze, he keeps to himself. “See you tomorrow.”

I nod and flee.



Nona is thrilled by Sebastian’s unannounced arrival—I hear her cries of surprise and pleasure through my open window, which faces the back of the property.

My father is pleased as well, greeting me when I walk into the kitchen an hour later with, “Candace, look what the cat dragged in!”

“Roadkill?” I ask sweetly, then make a show of noticing Sebastian. “Oh, well… close enough.”

The person in question smirks tiredly from behind a cup of coffee. His gaze tracks down my body, one brow cocking at my grass-stained khaki shorts and white t-shirt.

“I guess you can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the—”

“Blah blah,” I interject, hurrying toward the coffee pot to hide my smile.

Nona turns from the stove where she’s scrambling eggs and frying bacon. “I think the garden will be fine today, dear. You and Sebastian should relax by the pool. Catch up.”