Page 81 of Shark’s Edge

As he angled a thigh across one corner, I leaned a hip against the opposite one. “All right, then. We’re officially in grown-up mode. Speak your piece. I’m all ears.”

Without lowering his stare from me, Sebastian leaned over. With a hand braced on his knee, he looked both earnest and empirical—yet completely delicious. Every cell of my senses was rushed by his midnight eyes, his expensive cologne, his fluid power . . .

“Your announcement yesterday . . . Well, it was like a nuclear bomb for me.”

“You don’t say.” I popped my eyes so wide, there could be no mistake about my satire.

He glowered, but as was the case with him so often, the ire only boosted the beauty of his dangerous side. “After you left, I had to ask myself some hard questions.”

I leaned against the desk for myself now. Continuing to gaze at him in this new state, still attempting his apology-that-wasn’t, had my knees softening by enchanted increments. “And then what? You beat yourself up for it?”

“Right?” He gingerly tapped his bruise. “But in a few ways, yes.” He loosely laced his hands in his lap. “Some of this won’t be easy for you to hear, but you deserve the truth.”

He paused, giving me the chance to say something. But I had nothing.

His confession had felt like a compliment but also a warning. Did I thank him or back away from him? I chose total silence, though it didn’t feel like much of a choice.

“Taking your virginity is a massive concept for me, Abbigail. It’s ground I’ve never trodden before—or have even wanted to. Since I was young, I was always very aware of my . . . preferences . . . in the bedroom. I also took the time to identify the desires and needs that drive them. It’s never been anything I’ve had to hide.”

“Okay.” I sensed there was more, and I didn’t want to break his stride.

“It’s simply the way I’m wired. My tastes are intense, not wrong. But they do require like-minded partners. Women who don’t mind field trips to the dark side. Routinely.”

Though he finished that off with a devastating half smile, my heartbeat got erratic for other reasons. I curled a hand to my chest before grating, “So is this the part where you tell me about the kinky dungeon inside your palace?”

He twisted his lips with even more illicit intent. “No, Little Red. This is the part where I tell you that this whole mess has turned me into a mess, and I don’t know dick about messes or cleaning them up. I’ve lived unapologetically. I’ve never cared enough to notice the debris left in my wake. Until now.”

“Oh.” I pushed back to my feet. “And I assume by mess, you’re not talking about the finless shark over there”—I pointed to the glass statue that rested between the coffee bar and the whiskey display—“or the dozen dings in the coffee table?” Or the blood on the sofa, though I couldn’t stomach going there.

He took such a deep breath, his chest puffed out by a few inches. “Grant and I had a little . . . disagreement,” he finally said.

“And got messy about it?”

He nodded. “A little.”

“What were you talking about?”

He tilted his head. There was new tension in his jaw, emphasizing its stark masculine angles. But robbing my breath the most was the new light in his eyes, like starlight on steel, before he replied without hesitation.

“You.”

My belly lurched. My heart leapt. “What about me?”

Shadows fell over his face. He licked the seam of his lips. “He thinks I’m being a fool. About your . . . situation.”

“I knew I liked him.” I offered it with a frothy smile. This was exhilarating. There was real liberation in being able to talk like this with him, without tiptoeing around a single subject. Both our cards were on the table, no matter how hard it was to flip a few of them over. I almost forgot that I’d walked in here determined to stay pissed at him.

Almost.

It was easier to stay the course on my ire once I circled back around to his first point. Right. There it was. Bedroom preferences. Field trips to the dark side. Desires and needs and drives.

“But I assume our ‘hashing this out’ doesn’t involve Grant.” It tumbled out with a harsher edge than I’d expected, but I celebrated the new strength it represented. I was holding my own here, despite his swoon-worthy suit and captivating stares.

“Your assumption would be right.”

“All right, so . . . where to from here?” I pressed. “I mean, you don’t really want to be regaling me with a blow-by-blow of your sexual history, do you?”

He snorted. “Intentional choice of words, Ms. Gibson?”