He sat down on the bed, and patted the space next to him, suggestively.
“Come and sit with me, Caro,” he slurred.
Oh, I really didn’t think so.
I folded my arms across my chest and stayed standing. His gaze drifted up and down me in a way that heated my whole body. I hadn’t blushed like that in a long time.
“Why are you here, Sebastian? You had your chance to talk to me earlier today, but you preferred to ignore me.”
He blinked up at me, his sea-green eyes puzzled. It was strange seeing him so far from the ocean. Then he smiled again.
“You still have a great ass, Caro.”
Enough was enough.
“Okay, I think you’d better go now. Whatever you have to say to me can wait until you’re sober.”
He just sat there smiling at me. I decided to make the hint more obvious. I walked forward to pull him off the bed, but instead he leaned forwards, wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my chest. This was getting ridiculous: couldn’t the man take ‘no’ for an answer? And I certainly didn’t want to be part of any harem.
“Sebastian, stop that,” I said forcefully. “I want you to go. Now!”
But he increased his grip, and his shoulders started to shake. With something like horror, I realized he was crying.
“Why didn’t you come back?” he sobbed. “I waited and waited for you, like I said I would, but you never came back! Why? Why didn’t you come back? I love you I love you I love you.”
I was stunned. No. This was not what I’d expected at all. And then I wondered if all his apparent dislike, all the rudeness he’d shown me, was just a wall protecting him from the pain I’d put him through; a rejection that had lasted years. He still loved me?
Oh no.
He couldn’t mean it. No, it was the alcohol talking.
“Sebastian…” I began.
He clutched me tighter and started kissing my chest, pulling open my robe and exposing my breasts. He fastened his mouth over my nipple and began to tug gently with his teeth.
I tried to push him away.
“No!”
But he didn’t stop. He pulled me onto the bed and pushed himself on top of me, kissing my throat and breasts over and over. He was so strong, I couldn’t fight him off; his arms held my wrists and his body was heavy, crushing me into the mattress.
“Get off me!” I yelled at him, dragging my hands free and pushing at his chest with all my strength.
With a long sigh, he rolled onto his back and was still.
I sat up, shocked and afraid. I pulled my robe together and stared at him. He was fast asleep, passed out drunk and snoring softly.
I was shaking from a fear-fueled adrenaline rush.
I shoved him with my hand.
“Sebastian, wake up! Wake up!”
He mumbled something and rolled onto his side.
Shit. Just what I didn’t need.
I wondered what the hell to do. If I phoned for help, everyone would just assume we’d slept together. I didn’t want to ruin my already dented reputation; and if I reported his assault, he’d be arrested and court-martialed, with the distinct possibility that our illicit past would be uncovered.
No matter how far I traveled, no matter how hard I worked, I was never able to outrun my past. The thought made me cold with fury.
In the end, I decided the simplest thing to do was to leave him as he was. He certainly wasn’t going to be making any more passes at me in that condition, and a small but insistent part of me remembered that we’d once been in love.
I wrestled his heavy biker boots off his feet and pulled the duvet over him. I definitely wasn’t going to sleep naked like I usually did, so I hunted down a loose T-shirt, pulled on a pair of panties and crawled back into bed.