Chapter 205
“You… you’re in my bathroom,” Jocelyn stammered. She looked at the wall, the floor, the ceiling — anywhere but at the V-line of muscle disappearing into that towel.
“Our bathroom,” Gaston corrected, walking past the foot of the bed toward the walk-in closet. “We burned the contract, remember?”
Jocelyn’s stomach did a somersault. Burned the contract? Was he serious?
“That was the adrenaline talking,” she said, her voice rising in desperation. “The press conference. The cameras. You were making a point.”
Gaston stopped. He lowered the hand towel from his head and draped it over the back of a velvet armchair. Then he turned slowly to face her.
“Was the kiss adrenaline too?”
His voice dropped an octave. It wasn’t teasing anymore. It was heavy.
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Jocelyn felt the heat rush up her neck, staining her cheeks crimson. She gripped the sheets tighter, her knuckles turning white.
“You were just proving a point,” she rationalized, the words tumbling out fast. “To the world. To the Schneiders. It was a power move.”
She scrambled out of bed on the far side, grabbed her silk robe from the bench, and shoved her arms into it. She tied the belt so tight it nearly cut off her circulation.
He’s protecting his image. He’s protecting the family. He’s probably missing his real lover. The thought was a frantic shield against the memory of his lips on hers. The idea solidified in her mind, a necessary anchor in the storm of her confusion.
“And besides,” she added, turning to face him with renewed, if frantic, confidence, “I know you must be thinking about the person you’re really waiting for.”
Gaston blinked. The intensity in his eyes faltered for a microsecond. “Who?”
“The one you truly care about,” she whispered, trying to sound supportive and open-minded rather than like a woman whose heart was currently being shredded. The name Vance flashed in her mind, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. It felt too accusatory. Too real.
“You’re probably just confused,” she continued, pacing a small circle on the rug. “Trying to force yourself to be straight for the family image. For the stock price. I get it, Gaston. I really do.”
Gaston stared at her. A complex expression crossed his face — disbelief warring with amusement, and something darker, hungrier underneath.
He took a step closer. Then another. He invaded her personal space until she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. He smelled like rain and clean skin.
“You think I kissed you like that while thinking of someone else?” he asked softly.
“Didn’t you?” she challenged. Her voice trembled, betraying her entirely.
He leaned down. His lips brushed the shell of her ear, sending a shiver straight down her spine to her toes.
“I was thinking of how you taste like strawberries,” he murmured. “And how much I wanted to do it again.”
Jocelyn stopped breathing. Her lungs simply refused to inflate.
He pulled back before she could react — before she could analyze the lie, because it had to be a lie.