The One Addicted(9)

Shit!

Oh. My. God. What is he doing here?

I purposely made this appointment with Nathan, so I could avoid him.

My feet are like lead and I can’t turn around. I’m totally unprepared for this - it’s too soon - I can’t see him now. Maybe if I just ignore him he’ll go away? Yeah right. I mentally compose myself, inhale through my nose and out through my mouth, Pilates style, whilst silently counting to three and put both hands in my trouser pockets, to appear hopefully blasé but mainly so that he can’t see them shaking uncontrollably. I then turn to face the man I haven’t seen in eight long drawn-out days.

The man I’m not sure I can ever look at the same again.

“Where’s Nathan?”

The words fall from my lips before I’ve met his eyes. I can’t bring myself to look at him - if I do I’ll break. Deep breaths; deep breaths. Instead I focus on his black Jeffrey West shoes - he always did have good taste.

“He’s on another job. I said I’d cover for him.”

Ahh that voice…

“He only booked this meeting with me an hour ago - what other job?” I add unconvinced, my voice rising in volume by the second and noticing Sebastian’s brows rise in surprise, I tone it down a notch. “Well if he’s not available… suddenly - although I find that hard to swallow - I’ll come back then - to go through the plans, another time.”

I can’t be here anymore. This was just way too difficult.

“Don’t leave.”

Those two simple pleading words anchor me and I close my eyes in angst. I can’t do this, won’t do this. I’m not prepared, not ready - my skin is crying out for his touch, every disloyal body part reacting to his voice, his scent; his heat.

“Please don’t go, Lu,” he sighs.

I look up at this. His voice has changed – seems softer and his gorgeous face implores me to do as he asks. His brown eyes hooded, their colour deepening to dark chocolate, his strong jaw tense and sensual mouth full of promise.

Finally I see him - actually look at him.

I allow myself one quick glimpse. It’s pure torture.

Fuck he looks hot. Dressed in a navy three-piece pinstripe suit, with pale pink shirt and tie. All clean and sexy with such pure masculinity - he looks expensive. I unknowingly lick my lips in appreciation and instantly berate my weakness, straightening my back and presenting, what I hoped was a business-like manner. The fact that his dark assessing bedroom eyes have swirled to liquorice and are watching my every move, perusing every part of my body - is unnerving and beyond irritating. He doesn’t have that right anymore. Shaking my head to frame myself, I mutter.

“I can’t do this. Not now.” I’m not sure ever.

I make a move towards the doorway. Getting over the threshold to safety is my only goal now but his hand grabs my elbow and I spin at the spark emanating from that small physical contact - my arm literally burns at his touch, every nerve ending on fire.

“We need to talk.”

I hear the sarcastic sneer in my voice brewing before it erupts.

Really? That was the card he was going to play? Change the fucking record mate.

With all the strength I have left, I tug forcefully on his grip to break free but his grasp only tightens and looking around I can see workmen beginning to stop and focus upon our odd behaviour. I stop yanking immediately and through gritted teeth I spit out, “Not here!”

He drops his hand immediately and I draw my arm protectively to my chest. All the pent up hurt and betrayal has given way to pure anger and I’m ready to blow.

“Come with me.”

Sebastian is past me and at the doors in a few long strides and holds one open for me, twisting his body to beckon me. I am rooted to the spot and do not move. I just watch him. The utter arrogance of this man, to turn up announced, demanding and unwanted. I watch his mouth, determined but soft, his teeth lightly grazing his bottom lip, as he waits, pondering my every move. His eyes implore me. “Please.”

The polite request is unexpected and as he beckons again with his outstretched hand I nod my acceptance, and take one tentative step after the other towards him, feeling his palm mould to the small of my back, as I pass through. The flinch is a knee-jerk reaction to being touched by someone who hurt me and I sense it has the same painful effect on him, as he drops his hand immediately. Good! He’d got me out of the Suite but after this I couldn’t promise anything.

I follow his retreating form in silence, annoyed as my eyes are transfixed on his broad shoulders and sexy walk, not sure where we are going or why I didn’t just head downstairs, out the entrance and into the safety of my car. Deep down I knew I needed some answers and if now had to be the time, then so be it. I couldn’t take any more flowers, or messages and maybe this would wipe the slate clean for work?