Page 37 of Seduction Under the Southern Stars

The two guys look at me, and I know what they’re saying. I think about earlier, when I thought that if she were anyone else, I might suggest we had a quick fling before I leave. I’d already decided she’s too precious to be used like that, but even so, I feel ashamed.

“She’s not been with anyone since?” I ask, and they both shake their heads.

“I’m not sure she ever will,” Fraser says.

My brows draw together. “You’re kidding me? Surely eventually she’ll find someone?”

“It would have to be someone who’s prepared to invest time in her,” Fraser says. “Who’s going to be around for a while.” His expression is frank and firm as he looks over the top of his glasses at me. In a very polite, Fraser-type way, he’s warning me off.

I feel a twinge of resentment and… yeah, I’m ashamed to say it, rebelliousness. She’s an adult now, and although she’s been through a horrendous experience, he said she was determined not to let it define her. If she meets a guy who’s tender and respectful, why should she let it stop her having a positive relationship, either long-term or casual, if that’s what she wants?

Fraser finishes off his drink. “I’m having another. You guys?”

“Yeah, all right,” Joel says, and I nod, so Fraser goes up to re-order.

Once his brother has left, Joel gives me an amused look. “Don’t mind him. He has Dad’s overprotective gene.”

“And you don’t?” I ask, remembering his query when I arrived, Are you here to cause trouble for her?

He shrugs. “I didn’t want you to go in like a bull in a china shop without knowing what had happened. I thought you walked out, remember? But now…” His eyes flicker with regret. “I know you had feelings for her, and Fraser’s right, she obviously still has feelings for you. I thought you might try to rekindle that while you’re here. So you should be aware—she’s vulnerable, and she’s been through a lot. Don’t break her heart again, okay?”

Again, I feel a twinge of rebelliousness, but equally I don’t want to hurt Elora. Both her brothers mean well, and they’re probably right; it’s best if I keep my distance.

“Have you been to any football over there?” he asks, because we used to be into football, or soccer, back in the day, and just like that, the topic of Elora is concluded.

I continue to think about her, though, even as the conversation moves on. I have a feeling I could seduce her, if I put my mind to it. I can’t help but think it would be good for her if it drags her back into the land of the living, resuscitating her, like a defibrillator for the soul. But I have to leave, and I know that’s going to be hard enough anyway for both of us, let alone if we were to sleep together.

Fraser returns with the drinks, and we don’t talk about her again. But she remains in my mind, and my heart, for the rest of the evening. And I know she’s not leaving my thoughts anytime soon.

Chapter Eight

Elora

I usually work Saturdays, but the museum doesn’t open until ten, so I’m in less of a rush than normal. I’m up at six, though, jolted out of sleep by a particularly unpleasant dream. Zoe’s still asleep, as she’s not leaving with Joel until ten, so the apartment is quiet.

I have a soak in the bath, letting the heat from the water soak away the tremors of anxiety that remain from my dream-filled night. The terror is fading now, and I inhale the lavender-filled steam and release my tension with the out breath.

Trying to distract myself, I think about Linc.

I can remember the scent of his cologne when he put his arm around me. And then, when he went to go, the way our eyes met, and the shock that passed through me. I’ve met enough young men at university to know that’s not normal. I did make a few male friends, but none of them seemed interested in me sexually, and nobody ever asked me out on a date. I’m not sure if that’s because I was subconsciously sending out signals to say I wasn’t interested, or if I genuinely am ugly as.

You were never ugly. You were cute as a button then. But you’re beautiful now. His words make me glow inside. He wouldn’t say that just to make me feel better, would he? The way he looked at me made me feel as if he finds me attractive. But maybe I’m wrong. He’s not an eighteen-year-old guy who’s never been kissed. He’s twenty-eight and a man of the world. I’m sure he’s had plenty of relationships, and no doubt he knows his way around a woman’s body. He’d never be interested in a girl like me, scholarly, shy, and clueless. And anyway, he’s only here for a week or so. I’m not interested in casual sex.

I lift my foot out of the water and watch the bubbles glisten. I might be a little bit interested.

My way of dealing with things is not to think about them. So I’ve shut any notion of love and sex out of my life for years. I’ve been busy at university, working hard, and it hasn’t been that difficult. I didn’t want to face the issues I know are going to rise when—if—I ever meet a guy I like enough to have sex with. But suddenly, seeing Linc has caused all those repressed thoughts and emotions to come rushing to the surface.

It’s not going to come to anything, for several reasons. I tick them off on my fingers. One—there’s no time. Two—he probably doesn’t fancy me in that way anyway. And three—I’d never be able to relax enough to let him get near me.

I slide down in the water, letting it close over my shoulders and breasts, and I feel an answering tingle between my legs at the sensation of the water tension teasing my nipples.

What would it feel like to go to bed with him?

My face heats at the thought of it. Of letting him undress me. Kiss me. Feeling his hands, his lips, on my skin. Of lying in bed with him, having his weight press me into the mattress. Of…

I close my eyes and swallow hard. Best not to think about that.

I brush my hands down over my body. I have an ache deep inside, and when I slide my fingers between my legs, I find myself swollen and slippery. I screw my eyes up, feeling the familiar wash of guilt at the thought of touching myself. My parents never broached the subject of masturbation with me—it’s not as if my dad told me it was a sin or anything. It was just never mentioned. They didn’t talk about sex in general much. Mum always answered any questions I had, but she tended to reply in very practical terms. I remember asking her what a condom was once, and her reply still makes me wince… “Well, when a man puts his penis in a woman’s vagina…”

---