Page 119 of Modern Romance January 2025 1-4

‘Someone like me?’ he repeated.

She was mesmerised by the freckles on his nose, or perhaps they were easier to look at than his dark black eyes, so deep she felt as though she might drown in their depths.

‘What exactly does that mean?’ He pressed a finger to her chin, just as he had the night before, but this time, she’d half been expecting it, and a thrill of relief caught her totally off guard. She should have hated his touch, not secretly revelled in it.

‘It means you’re not my type.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Let me guess. The men you usually sleep with are...academics.’

‘You went to an Ivy League college on a full scholarship,’ she pointed out. ‘What’s the difference?’

Up close, his mocking smile was even more infuriating. ‘By academic, I meant more of a pushover.’

‘You mean weak?’

‘Sure.’

‘Why do you think that’s who I’d be attracted to?’

‘Just a feeling I have.’

‘Based on...’

‘Based on you being someone who never has a hair out of place. I bet when you have sex it’s always a neat, passionless affair with a neat, passionless man.’

She refused to acknowledge the truth of his statement, nor how inferior it made her feel. She’d seen movies; she’d read books. She knew what sex wassupposedto be like. The fact it had always been a pretty tame scenario for Rosie was something she’d refused to feel bad about. If anything, she liked that. Even in bed, she never lost control, she never risked succumbing to the madness of desire. When she answered, her voice emerged prim. ‘Have you spent much time imagining my sex life?’

‘From time to time.’

She drew in a sharp breath, heat flooding her veins no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. ‘Why?’

‘I like to amuse myself, imagining my prim, perfect wife “letting herself go”.’

‘Wow, you really are an incredible asshole.’

‘Thank you.’

‘That’s not a compliment.’

‘Nonetheless—’

‘And I bet sex for you is all animalistic and untamed,’ she interrupted, two red dots in her cheeks showing anger. ‘I bet you rip one another’s clothes off in your desperation to come together.’

‘That’s the best case, yeah.’

‘Well, not for me. I prefer things in my life to be more measured,’ she said with the appearance of a shudder. Her mind, though, was running away from her, populating an image of Sebastian tearing her blouse from her body, and in a terrifying contrast to what sheshouldhave felt at the very idea, her nipples tightened against the lace of her bra, silently inviting his notice, wanting his touch.

She took a step backwards, her whole body igniting with a strange, overcharged awareness. Ofhim. This was a disaster.

‘Why?’ He echoed her movements, so they were close again. She didn’t step away. He smelled of wood, like pine or cedar, heavy and oaked, just like his study.

‘Why?’ she repeated, no longer able to follow the conversation.

‘What would happen if I kissed you now?’

‘Why would you kiss me?’

‘Because I’m your husband?’

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