Page 65 of Worth Every Moment
“Yes. Pretend. But it has tolookreal.” He stares at me, a challenge in his eyes. “If you want to convince people that we’re together, you can’t stiffen when I touch you.”
“I don’t stiffen.”
“You did. In the lobby just now. I was doing my best to look pleased to see you, but when I put my hand on your lower back, you shot up like a rocket. I thought you were going to take off.”
My mind flits back to the moment I glimpsed him casually leaning against the wall. So handsome in his tux. When he touched me to lead me to the car, the flush of attraction I felt for him was so intense that I couldn’t handle it. I totally stiffened. “I did n—”
He blasts out a sigh. “At the photo shoot, you were all over me, and now I can’t touch you? Your inconsistency is what’s confusing, not the lack of boundaries”
My pulse races that little bit faster. He’s right, of course. I wish I could tell him the truth, but to admit that I’m worried I might fall for him for real feels like something I could never say. “That was work. That was my job. The physical contact we had then was absolutely necessary.”
“I’d argue that they’re the same.”
“No. There were limits at the shoot. Boundaries. Instructions for exactly what we had to do.”
He raises an eyebrow. “If you need instructions, I can give you instructions.” He tries to pass me the list, but I push it back at him.
“Keep that. It’s yours. I know what’s on it.”
He sighs. “No one is going to think we’re a real couple if I adhere to these rules. The point is—”
“The point is, you’re helping me. And I really appreciate it, and I will owe you. Big time. Especially if I get this movie role. But please, let’s do this my way.” I lay my hand over his. “I need you to do it my way. Please.”
My voice cracks on the last word, and something like understanding fills Seb’s eyes. His voice is gentle when he says, “Where’s the line? Where can I touch you?”
Electricity fizzes through me, and the answer booms in my mind.You can touch me everywhere. I lift my hand from his. “You can’t. Not unless I say so.”
Disbelief fills his eyes. “Really?”
“Yes.” I lean over and tap the physical contact section of the list.
Seb peruses it again, then slowly raises his head. “Lefroy.” He says my name as though he expects the mere sound of it to inject some sense into me, but I am not letting him touch me.I can’t.
“Please,” I say again, sounding so pathetic I can hardly stand it.
His shoulders fall, and the sound of his next exhalation fills the car. “Fine.” He, puts the list inside his jacket pocket. “Let’s try it your way. Let’s see how convincing we are without touching.” He chuckles to himself, but it’s a dark and disapproving noise, as though he’s indulging me while simultaneously knowing I’ll fail. “Just so you know, I’m ready to worship you any way you want if you change your mind about how you want to run this fake dating gig.”
I take him in, in all his cocky glory, looking so handsome, so sure of himself, that the flush of attraction I felt earlier repeats itself, settling deep in my core.Damn you, Seb Hawkston, for being so irresistible and knowing it.
22
SEB
There is a red carpet when we arrive, and a crowd of people screaming Erica’s name, as well as a host of paparazzi.
The noise is insane, and the flashing of the cameras is blinding. People crush towards us, held back only by the security lining the rope that separates the carpet from the public.Jesus fucking Christ.What did I sign up for here? I should have brought a bodyguard. I’ve had my fair share of press—good and bad—but this is next level.
Erica is composed and stately the entire time, gliding down the carpet like a couture angel. She couldn’t look more beautiful if she tried. But the papers aren’t wrong; there’s an iciness to her glamour that isn’t inviting. She rarely smiles, and there’s an edge to her beauty that suggests she’d never let you fully in.
“Who’s the date, Erica?” someone yells.
Sothisis what it’s like to be with Erica in public. Most of the time, people don’t know who I am. Just another bloke in a corporate suit, but in Erica’s company, I’m of interest. A burst of pride at being associated with her, at being her date, inflates my chest.
Erica reaches for my hand, and as she touches me, sparks jolt right up my arm. She pulls me closer to her and then lets go. I stand next to her, but not touching, and it looks ridiculous. Two kids who don’t like each other standing side by side and waiting for the school photographer to snap our picture.
I don’t know what the fuck she’s playing at, or why she’s suddenly so adamant that I can’t touch her, but it’s not going to work. The press will be writing articles about our impending and inevitable breakup before the night is over if we keep this up.
I remain at her side for a few moments longer. It could be less than a minute, but it feels like an absolute age, and with each second that passes, I feel more and more like a spare part. What the hell am I doing here if we aren’t putting on a show? This isinsane. I have three months with Erica before I lose her, and just under four before I have to commit myself to someone else. I’m on a ticking fucking clock here, and I don’t want to waste any more time. Ignoring her damn rules, I slide my arm around her waist, pulling her close, but as I do she stiffens. She fucking stiffens.Again.
