The Rebound - Stefanie London Page 0,12

me to join him as his right-hand man.”

“So you moved to Sydney?”

Sebastian nods. We fall into silence for a bit, but then he puts a hand on my arm. “Whatever Mike said... I’m sure it was a load of hot air. He talks shit to impress his friends. He’s been like that ever since he was a kid, always thinking he needed to be the big man to be accepted.”

“Would you say something like that about the woman you were about to marry?” I’m talking hypothetically because there’s no ring on his finger. “Even if you thought she couldn’t hear?”

“No,” he admits.

“I’m sure you would know exactly how to make a woman feel cherished,” I continue, my mouth starting to run away with me. The booze has loosened my tongue and I feel it all tumbling out. “In fact, you look like the kind of guy who doesn’t have any trouble in that area...with women.”

Sebastian raises a brow, his mouth quirking as though he’s holding back a smirk. “What makes you say that?”

“Gut feeling.” I reach for my beer again and take another long gulp. Uh-oh, I’m feeling like a freight train now, hurtling away from my troubles and into something a heck of a lot fuzzier. “I can tell right away if a man can please a woman.”

That didn’t quite come out right. I wasn’t talking about anything sexual, but I can tell Sebastian took the comment that way. I flush, my already-warm cheeks going up a few hundred degrees. But who cares? Maybe I want to be that girl who says what’s on her mind without feeling ashamed.

I decide to lean into it.

“It’s in the way you drink,” I say. “I can tell if a man is going to be good in bed from one beer.”

Unfortunately, most of the guys I’ve been with were lacking in that area, ranging from a scale of Okay, but a bit vanilla to What is the clitoris? But other parts of my relationships were good. Very good. I thought that meant that sexual chemistry wasn’t a priority, because love and respect and a sense of humour were more important. Now I know they’re as easily faked as an orgasm.

“Okay, I’m officially curious,” he says.

“If a guy gulps his drinks back, he’s probably not into foreplay. He’ll just pound away until he gets what he wants.” I can’t believe I’m saying this. “Whereas a guy who appreciates his drink—who takes the time to smell and taste and savour—will do the same with his partner. I look at how he holds his glass, too. Does he touch the rim, check for cracks or look at the design? That’s attention to detail—he’ll learn a woman’s body.”

“All that from a drink?” Sebastian’s eyes are locked on mine and it’s like standing at the edge of a cliff at night with only darkness to break my fall.

“Are you going to deny you’re good in bed?” My tone is full of challenge. “Prove my theory wrong.”

Something flickers in the depths of his eyes—hot, molten. But it vanishes like a magician’s trick. “I don’t know if I’m doing any of the things you said.”

“You keep running your thumb over that one spot in the glass.” I nod to his hand and he stills, caught. “It’s an imperfection and it interests you.”

Mike used to laugh at me when I would say stuff like that, always thinking I was seeing meaning where there was none. Trying to create something out of nothing.

“I like imperfections,” Sebastian says. “It makes life interesting.”

I’ve spent my whole life hunting out flaws and marks and defects, making it my mission to polish them over.

Sebastian is still running his thumb over the imperfection in the glass. The action is subconscious, almost like it’s part of his thinking process. But what’s going on behind those dark eyes and that curious smirk and that sizzling stare? I get a strange sensation in my stomach, which could be easily attributed to the drinks. Only that’s not what’s causing the butterfly wings and champagne bubbles.

I’m attracted to him.

This man, whom I’ve been told is a liar and a manipulator and a thief and a heartless bastard, appears anything but. He’s mysterious, sexy and thoughtful. Inquisitive. For the first time in a long time, I feel heard. I want the night to keep going.

I reach out my hand to signal to the bartender that I want another drink, but Sebastian catches my arm and brings it back down.

“Not here.” He drains the