Wow, she had been really drunk. Lots of memories of laughing, but she couldn’t recall what had been so funny. Patrice was funny, but she wasn’t sure why. Scout had the sense that Dugan was unhappy with her.
Lucian. Lucian had been . . . disappointed? No, that wasn’t it. He wasn’t mad. He hadn’t yelled at her. Yet he didn’t seem too pleased either. Visions of his fingers undressing her swam at the hazy edges of her mind. Somehow she had seduced him to join her, but how?
Images of Lucian touching her flashed through her head, his mouth on her breasts, her neck, between her thighs. The more she thought about the night before the more she remembered. He had made her scream in pleasure.
She stilled, pulling her toothbrush from her mouth and she frowned. She’d enjoyed drinking, but the aftermath was annoying. She was sore and confused about events from the evening. Scout rinsed her toothbrush and finished showering quickly.
Did we have sex?
She hated how muzzy her memories were. Wrapping Lucian’s robe around her, she then combed the knots from her hair. The bedroom clock proclaimed it was just after five in the morning. She didn’t want to wake Lucian, so she went to the common area of the suite.
Scout picked up the phone and dialed nine. When someone at the front desk answered, she quietly whispered, “Hi, this is Evelyn Keats. I’m staying with Mr. Patras. Could you please have someone send up some pastries and a pot of coffee. Mr. Patras is still sleeping, so please have them just leave it outside the door.”
Curling into the overstuffed chair she stared out the window. With it still being dark she could see her reflection quite clear. Sometimes her reflection was like a stranger to her. There was certainly no recognition of the woman staring back at Scout now.
The soft clatter of the tray being placed outside the door and the sound of the elevator descending caused her to rise. She carried the heavy tray over to the table and poured herself some coffee.
As she watched the sun slowly rise behind the buildings dominating the view, she sipped from her mug and nibbled a cheese Danish, contemplating the night before. Lucian and she had definitely not had sex.
This was a problem.
It was Saturday. Had she really only met him one week ago? As morning arrived the sound of movement began creeping through the building. Elevators dinged and vehicles played a quiet beat over the streets below. Growing tired again, Scout decided to just shut her eyes for a moment. Next thing she knew, Lucian was showered and dressed and pouring himself a cup of coffee in front of her.
“You’re up,” she rasped.
He nodded. “How do you feel? Hungover, I imagine.”
The heel of her palm rubbed the side of her head.
“I was. I woke up at five and showered. I feel a little better now. Sorry about breakfast. I didn’t want to order anything that would be cold by the time you woke up.”
“It’s fine.”
“Are you going out?” It was Saturday. The sight of him in a suit made her fear he was leaving.
“I don’t know.”
“Lucian, can we talk about what’s happening here? Honestly?”
He didn’t answer.
“We didn’t have sex last night.”
“I’m aware.”
She huffed. “Can you stop with the arrogant one-liners and talk to me? Why won’t you fuck me?”
Her words had shocked him. Good. He sipped his coffee and put it down with a sharp click on the table.
“You are not meant to be fucked, Evelyn.”
“Why?” Her eyes narrowed at him. He was going to explain what was happening between them once and for all. “Why not, Lucian? You did it once already. My virginity isn’t going to grow back, you know.”
“I know it isn’t,” he sneered. “I took that from you and I can never undo that. I wasn’t gentle as a man should be with a virgin and I was too fucking selfish to make sure you enjoyed it. I took from you like an animal and I wish you would stop pestering me to do it again.”
His words hit her like a slap to the face. She reared back, not fully believing what she just heard. “I’m a pest to you?”
“Evelyn, that’s not what I meant—”
“What else could you have possibly meant, Lucian? Please, tell me, because right now I’m torn between bursting into tears or walking out that door and never coming back.”
“You’re not a pest.”
“Then what am I to you? Explain it to me. Please! Am I your lover? Am I your friend? Am I someone you see as a charity case? Do you feel indebted to me because you took my virginity? Explain it to me!” Her voice rose with each statement.
He turned on her, his arms boxing her in to the upholstered fabric. She leaned back into the chair. “You are not a fucking charity case. And yes, you are my friend. I want to be intimate with you, but I can’t.”