As if he’s starved for the taste of me.

“Let’s get something straight,” he says, tilting my chin up, “Mr. Bordeaux doesn’t exist for the next three hours.”

“He doesn’t?” I breathe, my lips parting because there’s that look again.

The one that tells me he feels this weird pull between us as much as I do. It’s strong and a bit terrifying.

Electrifying.

Liam Castle made me experience things I didn’t know I could feel—the highs and lows, the delirious adrenaline rush of several of my firsts.

First kiss.

First taste of a man.

First orgasm.

But Sebastian makes me afraid to feel anything at all, because the gamut of emotions he inspires are dangerously intense. This unexplainable connection is nothing but mayhem to my sanity.

“No, Heath Bordeaux doesn’t exist in this room. It’s just you and me, princess…and the license he gave me to touch you.” His smirk should cool the fire heating my veins, but all his cocky confidence seems to do is deliver a direct hit straight to my core.

I shouldn’t crave his touch after the way he’s treated me, but God help me…

I do.

“I thought you didn’t like me.” The vulnerability in that admission leaves me exposed before him, my state of undress notwithstanding.

“I don’t like you.”

His confirmation hurts more than it should. More than I’m comfortable with. I search his sea-blue eyes, hoping to uncover a reason—something logical and tangible to explain his dislike—but all I find is reluctant lust.

My brows furrow. “You don’t like me…but you want me?”

“God, yes.” He steps forward, his impressive bare chest sending me back a few inches, out of the puddle of my dress. “I absolutely want you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t fucking know. Call it a curse.” Another step forward, and his head tilts, eyes narrowed in scrutiny. “Maybe it’s the golden silk of your hair and how it makes you seem so young and innocent, or the way you always smell like fruit and flowers.” Dipping his head, he runs his nose along my cheekbone. “Some exotic scent that stays with me long after you’re gone.”

I’m dizzy, my brain spiraling toward the ground, and I’ve never been more grateful for the perfume I had bottled and sent from home. “It’s plumeria.”

“It’s sexy as hell.” He aims his attention on my lips. “But if the smell of you doesn’t kill me, the shape of your mouth will, especially all the things it was designed to do.”

“What kinds of things?” I dart my tongue along my lower lip, and his pupils dilate.

“Feasting on quivering skin, uttering dirty nothings.” He drags his thumb over my trembling lips. “Sucking, Novalee. I bet you do it so well you bring a man to his knees.”