His voice was quiet, lethally compelling, and rough.

I went stiff, my breathing unsteady.

On the phone, Xavier sensed the change immediately. His voice lowered.

“Sophie? Is Sebastian beside you? Is he making you do something?”

“No... no.”

Flustered, I tried to push Sebastian away, but he was immovable.

Instead of retreating, he came closer.

He gave my earlobe a light, punishing bite, then whispered wickedly, too softly for anyone else to hear.

“Tell him your boyfriend is feeding you soup. You don't have time for him.”

The bite drew a small sound from me.

I spoke hurriedly into the phone.

“I'll call you later.”

Then I hung up.

Turning, I glared at Sebastian in embarrassed anger.

“Have you lost your mind? Do you realize how out of line that was?”

He looked at the flushed corners of my eyes and swallowed hard.

Setting the bowl down, he watched me with an unreadable gaze.

“I'm sorry.”

He moved half a step away, becoming the restrained, courteous man again.

As though the obsessive man from a moment earlier had been my imagination.

“I lost control. I just... hate that he can call you whenever he wants.”

Sebastian lowered his lashes, hiding the beast on the verge of breaking free.

“Don't be angry. I won't touch you again.”

Seeing him like that, half my anger vanished at once.

He was a masterful hunter, using every trick he had on me.

That evening, water rushed in the bathroom while I sat watching television.

Before long, the door opened.

Sebastian came out.

He wore only a dark gray silk robe. His hair was still damp.

Small drops of water ran down his hard jaw and over his moving throat.

The clean scent of shower gel mixed with his own fragrance and took possession of the living room.

My eyes strayed to him, then darted away as though I'd touched a live wire.

“Sophie.”

He came toward me, his voice carrying a lazy post-shower rasp.

“Will you do me a favor?”

I pretended to be calm.

“What is it?”

He sat beside me, handed me a white towel, and turned slightly to reveal a scrape on his right arm.

Yesterday, while shielding me from a falling picture frame, he had caught himself on the corner of a cabinet.

“I'm supposed to keep it dry, but I accidentally got some water on it. It's awkward to treat with one hand. Will you help?”

It sounded reasonable. I couldn't find a reason to refuse.

I took the towel, picked up the antiseptic and cotton swabs from the table, and carefully moved closer.

The distance between us vanished.

I bent my head and concentrated on cleaning the wound.

My fingertips inevitably brushed the hard muscles of his arm. His skin felt startlingly warm.

From above, Sebastian's gaze traveled freely over my features, the tip of my nose, and my lips pressed together in nervous concentration.

His breathing grew heavier.

I felt the heat of his stare.

Looking up in confusion, I met his dark eyes and the intense feeling swirling inside them.

“There... it's done.”

I tried to draw back, but he caught my wrist.

His palm was hot. His grip was strong, but carefully controlled so it didn't hurt.

“Sophie.” His voice was terribly rough. “Don't look at me like that.”

I felt the heat of his hand.

“Like... like what?”

“Like you want to run away but can't help being drawn to me.”

He leaned closer, something wicked touching the beautiful face I had always thought so proper.

“When you look at me that way, it makes me want to do things I might not be able to stop myself from doing.”