Free A Lesson in Desire: Season of Desire Part 3 (Seasons Quartet) by Sadie Matthews Page B

ability to enjoy this sensory experience to the full. I remember suddenly how drunk Jacob and I used to get before we had sex, on huge bottles of Kristal and litres of iced Grey Goose. Then we frolicked around madly pretending we were having the best sex in the world when really we hardly knew what was going on half the time.
    It didn’t have one quarter of the excitement I experience with Miles. One kiss from him is sexier and more arousing than a whole night with Jacob.
    More and more I’m amazed by the very idea that I might ever have loved Jacob. He seems like a lifetime ago and the person who loved him is not the girl sitting in this beautiful chalet in front of a fire, dressed in an extremely sexy gown with the handsomest, most desirable man in the world sitting opposite. I stare over at Miles, who’s looking back at me with an amused expression in his eyes, his mouth twisted in one of those half smiles I like so much, and one dark eyebrow lifted just a touch.
    He’s lovely. He’s everything I want.
    The thought surprises me. So far, I’ve been entranced by Miles’s body and his overwhelming physical presence. At least, that’s what I thought. But now, as we look at each other with a kind of sexy conspiratorial amusement, I realise that ever since we’ve met he’s pushed my buttons in other ways. First, his arrogance disturbed and annoyed me. Then his calm capability and straightforward approach to saving my life made me feel safe and secure. His failure to pamper and indulge me riled me but really I wanted his attention: I wanted him to see me as a woman, not as the boss’s precious, untouchable daughter. Most of all, I wanted him to want me – not just as a sexual object but for something else.
    My mouth goes dry with the realisation.
    Oh my God. I want him to love me.
    It explodes in my brain like a light flashing on in a dark room.I feel stunned by the revelation and the next question follows like night following day.
    So do I love him ?
    The idea sends me into a whirl of mad hope and wild confusion.
    Won’t that make things very complicated?
    But what am I doing here if I don’t feel something for him? Would I really come all this way, risk as much as I have, just for sex?
    For my lessons, I remind myself, and a voice replies in a knowing way, Yeah – if you want to call it that.
    I realise that Miles is speaking and I drag my attention back to him, still feeling dazed by what I’ve just been thinking.
    ‘We’re going to follow up fire with air,’ he’s saying.
    ‘Oh?’ I frown. ‘Air?’ I look towards the outside, where the temperature is clearly extremely low, if the crisp clear sky and the layers of snow are anything to go by. Does Miles want to make love out there? I’m up for most things but my skin goosebumps just thinking about it.
    He sees where I’m looking and laughs. ‘Don’t worry, we’re not going outside. Not yet. I’m not thinking of cold air. Quite the opposite.’ He stands up, drains his glass and puts it down, then fixes me with a challenging look. ‘Follow me, Winter. It’s time for your next lesson.’
    I get up, rearranging my drapery so that it fall seductively down my legs, and follow him as he turns and climbs the wooden staircase to the next floor.
    We’re going to the bedroom?
    That doesn’t seem very airy to me, unless he’s planning on opening the window.
    But Miles takes me to a door I hadn’t noticed, and opens it to show me a small vestibule with a bench, hooks and shelves of white towels. On the far side is another pine door, this one with a small window in it.
    Oh, now I understand.
    I smile at him.
    ‘I see you know what kind of air I’m talking about, Winter. You’ll understand how suitable this is when I tell you that Aristotle categorised air as both hot and wet, as opposed to fire, which is hot and dry. It’s associated with blood and in pagan thought, its tool is the sword, probably because it is considered sharp and able to