Page 95 of Worth Every Moment
I laugh at this, pulling back to look up at him, and he cups my cheek so tenderly that the emotional response that ripples through me feels a lot like bliss.
My Seb. My friend.
My love.
32
SEB
The first thing I do when we get to the room is take a pair of trunks to the bathroom and get changed. Our luggage arrived before we did, so it’s all unpacked. Erica and I are in a cabin a little walk from the main complex, where Kate is staying with her bridesmaids Elly and Marie.
There’s only one bed in the cabin.
I could have told Nico I wanted two. Two rooms. Two beds. Twin beds. Bunk beds, for fuck’s sake.
But I didn’t. I don’t want them to know thatthis… whatever this is, now I’ve told her I love her and she hasn’t said it back… started out fake, and now I have no clue if it’s real or pretend anymore. I don’t want them to know any of that because I’m the joker in the fucking pack, and they’d probably laugh at how I could never get a woman to be with me for real.
As soon as we walked inside and Erica saw the bed, unease poured off her skin like she’d rolled in lotion of the stuff. I couldn’t stand beside her and stare at the bed, the echo of my confession in my ears.
She came all over my tongue. Unraveled in my arms.But the one bed?That’s too much.I mentally roll my eyes. I have no clue what’s happening here.
I’m bordering on feeling insulted, but it’s balanced by worrying about what the hell is actually wrong. She let me bring her to orgasm twice… three times if you count the phone sex. But she hasn’t tried to touch me. Undo my belt. Slide her hand inside my trousers.
She hasn’t even got close.
Why the fuck not?
I wash my face and dry it and my hands on a towel before stepping back into the main room. Erica’s sitting on the end of the bed in a white sundress and sandals. Her gaze is as sharp as nails scraping down my back.
“Bed’s all yours,” I say. “I can take the sofa in the other room.” The cabin is huge. I could probably sleep in the bathtub and be perfectly comfortable.
I don’t look at her as I grab a t-shirt and haul it over my head.
I’m halfway into it when she says, “Stop.” I halt, arms in the air, t-shirt almost over my head. “Don’t put it on.”
The corner of her lips tweaks up and I finally notice how she’s looking at me. Hesitant, but as though she likes what she sees and isn’t afraid to let me know. Relief shoots to my brain like a hit of cocaine; she might not love me, but she wants me.Thank fuck, she wants me. Slowly, I remove the shirt again and toss it over the back of a nearby chair.
“You don’t want to share the bed?” she says, voice husky, her gaze fully fixed on my chest.
“I do if you do.”
She doesn’t give me an answer, but she stands and crosses the room towards me, her dark hair falling free over her shoulders. She raises a hand, reaching out to touch my chest, but she stops, her palm hovering an inch from my skin.
She raises hooded eyes to mine, the flutter of her lashes mimicking the beat of my heart. “It turned me on to touch you at the photo shoot.” Her fingers still hover above the skin. “I thought you should know that you weren’t alone in it.”
I say nothing because I sense she’s not really talking to me at all; it’s almost as though her quiet confession is a reminder to herself that it’s okay. It’sallowed.Her palm sinks onto my pec and it’s all I can do not to let out a groan at the warmth of the deliberate touch. She teases my nipple with her thumb, then trails her hand over my abs. Heat rushes to my groin.
“I didn’t know you had a body like this beneath your suit,” she murmurs.
“Are you objectifying me, Lefroy?”
She glances up at me, her cheeks wearing the lightest flush. “No,” she whispers. “Just admiring.”
She gives me a meaningful look, and I know the word choice is deliberate; a throwback to the first time we met when I said the same to her. The fact that she also remembers that conversation brings up a swathe of emotion I can’t even begin to understand. A rough chuckle works its way up my throat. “I’ve waited a long time for you to notice.”
I expect her to laugh, but she doesn’t. She slides a hand round to the back of my neck and pulls me into the softest kiss, her lips meeting mine in a moment that feels so tender it makes my heart hurt. No one has ever kissed me like this. Like I mean more to them than a good night’s fuck. Like they might want something from me that goes beyond sex, that lasts longer than one night, and that doesn’t end when we wake up in the morning.
And something about that scares the shit out of me.
