And what he wanted was Ashley.
* * *
Ashley stood in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee, waiting for the caffeine to make its way through her system and wake her up. She needed that jolt to get going in the morning. She took another long sip as the doorbell to the new apartment rang. She was still getting used to the place after only a few days, but at least it came with a Keurig.
She placed the mug down on the counter, tightened the sash on her light blue silk robe, and walked to the door, surprised to see Sebastian when she looked through the peephole.
She drew a deep breath and opened the door. “Hi,” she said warily, looking into his light blue eyes. She noticed he was dressed for the day at the office in a dark suit, fitting well around his broad shoulders, giving him a sexy, stunning appearance, while she was too aware of how little she was wearing.
“Hi,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.
She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to tell her what he wanted on her doorstep so early.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a king-size Hershey chocolate bar and extended it between them. She couldn’t mistake it for anything but what it was. A reminder of their shared past and a peace offering. He knew her mother hadn’t kept chocolate in the house, knew Hershey’s was her favorite candy especially at that time of the month. He’d sneak her candy bars at night and they’d share one over their late conversations about their parents, life … everything.
He studied her with those intense blue eyes, waiting for a reaction. Despite herself, the corners of her lips twitched in amusement and she grinned.
“Fine. Come in,” she said, snagging the candy bar and sashaying back inside, touched and surprised he remembered the small gesture that had meant so much to her once upon a time.
She headed for the living room and he followed her lead. Finally, she reached the sofa and turned to face him.
“I know you want nothing to do with me,” he said when he had her attention. “But I have some things I need to say, and I don’t want to do it at the office, where we have an audience.”
She nodded in understanding.
“Can we sit?” he asked.
She inclined her head and chose a spot on the sofa, keeping her legs princess style, tucked together and to the side.
But that didn’t stop him from staring, his gaze a laser on her exposed skin. She had the urge to shift around, but she couldn’t move her legs without exposing her panties beneath. And with his stare hot on her bare calves, she couldn’t afford to draw his attention farther up her thighs.
She cleared her throat. “What did you want to talk about?” she asked him as he sat in a chair across from her.
With him dressed impeccably in his suit, looking so handsome and sexy, it was hard for her not to squirm as they stared at each other.
He leaned forward and said, “I gave a lot of thought to what you said yesterday. About what you heard in my father’s study and how I didn’t stand up for you. How you think I haven’t changed.” He sounded sober, intense.
She nodded, aware she’d been very hard on him. Hurtfully so. But it had been the first time she’d seen him in years, the first time she was able to express her anger and hurt in his presence. She’d needed to express her bottled-up feelings and she had.
But now she realized she’d probably gone too far. “I shouldn’t have mentioned your current behavior. I really don’t know you anymore.”
She rubbed her palm along the silk of her robe, feeling the soft fabric as a distraction from his large presence. The scent of his cologne had followed him into her apartment, and every time she inhaled, she breathed him in. It was all she could do not to uncross and recross her legs, admitting to her discomfort and awareness.
“Much as it hurts to admit,” he said, unaware of his effect on her, “you had valid points. About the past and the present.” He met her gaze, his expression contrite but no less handsome for the regret she saw in his face. “I’m sorry, Ashley. For being selfish when we were kids and for you paying the price for my actions. Or lack of action, as the case may be.”
She blew out a breath at his unexpected admission and apology, taken off guard and affected by them. What could she say to that? I still want to hate you? I still blame you?
Wouldn’t that be petty when he’d obviously done a lot of introspection in the last twenty-four hours, taking her words and feelings seriously?
“Thank you,” she said instead, finding she meant it more than she would have thought.