Page 76 of Worth Every Moment
And then we can go back to normal. But what is normal now?
Maybe we’ve fucked our friendship already. Maybe it died that day in the gallery…
I’ll put it out of my mind. Put him out of mind, at least for now. I’ve got the day off so I can pack up all my belongings, ready to return to my own home when we get back from the wedding in the Caribbean. I’m trying to ignore the unsettled—sad?—feelings that are coming up, so I’m focusing on other things. I’ve had a long bath and now I’m sitting at the kitchen island plucking my eyebrows with a hand-held mirror. It’s not sanitary, but I’ll wipe the surface down later and Seb will never know.
Beside me is the issue of Tatler that covered our relationship. Seb must have powerful contacts because they whipped the story up fast and shunted other pieces to fit it in.
I flick through the pages, staring at the pictures of us. Ofhim.
I can hardly catch my breath looking at them. I am abso-fucking-lutely doomed when it comes to this man. He’s so handsome, and thatsmile… it’s enough to knock you sideways.
So much for putting him out of mind. A pulse sets up between my legs as I stare at him, and I have to acknowledge the slutty version of me, the one I’ve locked up tight—or perhaps my mother locked her up and threw away the key—is getting louder. Harder to ignore. And the cage I put her in is wearing thin.
By every measure that counts, I’m a virgin. But I don’t feel like one. I feel like a needy little whore, wrapped in a virgin’s body. Pretending I don’t have needs. Urges. Pretending I wouldn’t love it if Seb threw me down on the floor, the bed, shoved me against the wall with his hand around my throat, and fucked me as I screamed his name.
Oh, God.
I want him. But not like this. Not fake. Not pretend. And not because his balls are so blue he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s so used to getting women to do whatever he wants that this situation is probably fucking with his head. It’s fucking with mine.
Ugh. All those women.It makes me feel nauseous.
Would it have been so bad to let him kiss me on one of our dates? To let people see? To let his tongue slide between my lips? That night in the gallery feels like so long ago, I’m beginning to forget what it first felt like to have his mouth on me. How my blood turned molten as soon as he touched his lips to mine. And when his mouth went south…
Oh, fuck. I must be ovulating because here I am sitting at his kitchen table, horny as anything. I squirm on the stool, creating pressure between my legs, which only makes it worse.
I’m definitely not going to be able to ignore this. Maybe I can go sort myself out in the shower. Or the bedroom. Or… right herein the kitchen. I glance at the time. Seb won’t be home from work for hours.
My body is hot and tight and the need to touch myself is oppressive. I can’t think straight. I don’t masturbate often, and when I do, self-loathing clings to me.No one wants a whore. That’s what Mum always said. I’ve repressed the urge for so fucking long. Behaved myself. Stuck to the rules and been such a good girl. But bit by bit, I’m breaking those rules. The milk in my tea. The seventh tomato.AndSeb. Seb. Seb.
I can’t sit here anymore, staring at his face on the page, the harsh pound of blood between my legs making everything down there feel swollen…
It feels dirty. Naughty. But I can’t ignore it.I’m a new woman and this is my rebellion. I stand, pushing the magazine away. But then I pull it back and tear out the page with the biggest picture of Seb on it. He’s in a suit, buttoning the jacket with one hand, holding mine with the other. And he isbeautiful…
I tuck the picture into the pocket of my robe, intending to head to my bedroom where I can touch myself in private. But then I stop, an idea crossing my mind.
Our arrangement is nearly over, and I’ve never been into his bedroom.
What if I went there instead?
28
SEB
“We’d love to run a joint marketing campaign,” says Arthur Knatchbull. “Luxury goods and Hawkston Hotels. It’s a perfect union.”
An alert pings on my phone, and I glance at it under the table. I’m in the boardroom with Matt and our leasing agents, meeting with the marketing team from Knatchbull Luxe about leveraging both our brands.
I swipe on the phone. Motion detected in my bedroom.What the hell?No one should be in there.
I click into the CCTV system and bring up the live footage. Erica’s standing in my room wearing a dressing gown, like she’s just got out of the bath or something.What is she doing?
A chill runs down the back of my neck, trickling down my spine.Fuck. What if she goes into the bathroom? She cannot go in there.
“Seb?” Matt asks, calling my attention back to the meeting. “Thoughts?”
I have no fucking clue what they just said. “Sounds good.”
Matt frowns. Fuck, I hope that made sense.
