she’d heard that condoms did really change how things felt. She continued, feeling like she needed to be as responsible about the whole thing as Sebastian was being. “And in terms of other stuff…well, even though there was hardly any risk of my catching anything, I made sure I was thoroughly tested after my attack and I haven’t let anyone come near me since then, so I know I’m clean. I’m happy to get retested, though, if you want to be sure.”
“No, Eden, I believe you.” He trusted her. Did he know how much that meant to her? What she had told him today had been all about her being able to trust him, but Eden knew what it felt like not to be trusted, to be treated suspiciously, and she liked it that Sebastian seemed to have no doubts about her. In fact, she loved it.
Chapter Eleven
Eden lay in bed on Sunday morning, replaying the events of the previous day with Sebastian. Part of her still couldn’t believe that it had happened. After he’d calmed down, he helped straighten her dress and insisted on a tour of her apartment . He asked about her decorating plans and he seemed intrigued with the photos and prints she had lying around, waiting to be hung. She had mentioned she was going to frame some of them and it had obviously piqued his interest for some reason.
They had gone out for lunch in a small bistro down the street from her apartment and they had discussed their mutual love of art . He was impressed with how well she knew the Edinburgh Gallery and he mentioned that he had a small growing collection that he intended to show in his offices. He wanted to know if she’d ever thought about curating, and Eden was flattered that he was so fascinated with her knowledge of art history. He had walked her home and gently kissed her outside her door, behaving like a perfect gentleman—no dirty talk, no ass grabbing, no making her shiver with his lips on her neck. Nothing.
Eden knew he was processing the huge amount of information she had told him over dinner and then after. She had thought the latter was sure to turn him off, but it hadn’t, or so he claimed. But it had put a damper on the passion. After she had told him she’d never had sex , he put on his white gloves and started treating her like a porcelain doll.
The more she thought about it, the angrier she felt. That was not her intention behind telling him. In fact, she was regretting the whole thing now. Maybe she should have looked at Sebastian as nothing more than a one-night -stand. Why did she insist on thinking that losing her virginity had to be with someone she connected with on an emotional level? She assumed that sex with Sebastian would be amazing, if their previous physical contact was anything to go on. Why couldn’t that be enough? And now she had ruined that chance by telling him about her past and her total lack of sexual experience.
Part of the appeal of Sebastian, until that moment, had been the intense electricity that passed between them whenever they touched—for that matter, whenever they even looked at each other. Something wild and uncontrollable. Now he was turning it into something demure and chaste. She was sick of being chaste. Who was he to turn the dial down on them? She wanted to be the girl in the town car who he’d launched himself at, who had pressed his mouth so hard against her that she thought he would draw blood.
Eden looked at the clock, 11 a.m.—where would Sebastian Stone be on a late Sunday morning? Presumably at home, but Eden got the impression that Sebastian worked a different schedule. True to his word, he had emailed her a copy of his recent bloodwork that morning, but it gave no clue as to whether he was at home or not. She couldn’t imagine a man with that much intensity simply lounging around in his pajamas .
Eden grabbed her phone and texted him, feeling odd about the familiarity of texting a man she still barely knew. He had given her his number the day before, taking her
“No, Eden, I believe you.” He trusted her. Did he know how much that meant to her? What she had told him today had been all about her being able to trust him, but Eden knew what it felt like not to be trusted, to be treated suspiciously, and she liked it that Sebastian seemed to have no doubts about her. In fact, she loved it.
Chapter Eleven
Eden lay in bed on Sunday morning, replaying the events of the previous day with Sebastian. Part of her still couldn’t believe that it had happened. After he’d calmed down, he helped straighten her dress and insisted on a tour of her apartment . He asked about her decorating plans and he seemed intrigued with the photos and prints she had lying around, waiting to be hung. She had mentioned she was going to frame some of them and it had obviously piqued his interest for some reason.
They had gone out for lunch in a small bistro down the street from her apartment and they had discussed their mutual love of art . He was impressed with how well she knew the Edinburgh Gallery and he mentioned that he had a small growing collection that he intended to show in his offices. He wanted to know if she’d ever thought about curating, and Eden was flattered that he was so fascinated with her knowledge of art history. He had walked her home and gently kissed her outside her door, behaving like a perfect gentleman—no dirty talk, no ass grabbing, no making her shiver with his lips on her neck. Nothing.
Eden knew he was processing the huge amount of information she had told him over dinner and then after. She had thought the latter was sure to turn him off, but it hadn’t, or so he claimed. But it had put a damper on the passion. After she had told him she’d never had sex , he put on his white gloves and started treating her like a porcelain doll.
The more she thought about it, the angrier she felt. That was not her intention behind telling him. In fact, she was regretting the whole thing now. Maybe she should have looked at Sebastian as nothing more than a one-night -stand. Why did she insist on thinking that losing her virginity had to be with someone she connected with on an emotional level? She assumed that sex with Sebastian would be amazing, if their previous physical contact was anything to go on. Why couldn’t that be enough? And now she had ruined that chance by telling him about her past and her total lack of sexual experience.
Part of the appeal of Sebastian, until that moment, had been the intense electricity that passed between them whenever they touched—for that matter, whenever they even looked at each other. Something wild and uncontrollable. Now he was turning it into something demure and chaste. She was sick of being chaste. Who was he to turn the dial down on them? She wanted to be the girl in the town car who he’d launched himself at, who had pressed his mouth so hard against her that she thought he would draw blood.
Eden looked at the clock, 11 a.m.—where would Sebastian Stone be on a late Sunday morning? Presumably at home, but Eden got the impression that Sebastian worked a different schedule. True to his word, he had emailed her a copy of his recent bloodwork that morning, but it gave no clue as to whether he was at home or not. She couldn’t imagine a man with that much intensity simply lounging around in his pajamas .
Eden grabbed her phone and texted him, feeling odd about the familiarity of texting a man she still barely knew. He had given her his number the day before, taking her
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