Page 15 of Worth Every Moment (Hawkston Billionaires #4)

ERICA

M y heart is racing as I hunker down in the dark next to Seb.

“God, you are so fucking hot,” a voice growls.

Less than ten feet away from us, backlit by the moonlight streaming in the windows, a couple is kissing feverishly. They’re tearing at one another’s clothes, panting like they’ve been oxygen-deprived until this exact moment.

I don’t dare look at Seb, but I’m acutely aware of him. The heat of his body, the strength of him beneath his suit, the scent of his cologne, and the sound of his breathing too close to my ear.

“I’ve waited far too fucking long for this,” the man rasps as he hauls the woman’s dress up, and she tilts her head back as he kisses her throat.

“Quick,” she moans. “We have to be quick.”

Seb tilts forward to see what I’m seeing. I’ve been blocking his view. His eyes peel wide, and, comedically slowly, he turns his gaze to me.

Please, don’t look at me .

Too late. I can hardly breathe as my blood turns to rivers of fire. I don’t know if it’s the couple, the noises they’re making, or the feel of Seb’s attention on me while it’s happening, but I’m burning up.

This is some great cosmic joke. It must be. I drag my gaze from Seb’s, back to the couple who have stumbled against the wall. A trail of their clothes marks their path. Their passion is wild and uncontained; the two of them unravelling mere feet from where Seb and I are hidden in the shadows.

The man turns the woman away from him and she braces her hands on the wall while he fiddles with his trousers. The little metallic clink of his belt is unmistakable.

“Quickly,” she husks. “I need you now.”

Seb lets out the most minuscule snort at exactly the same moment the man grunts and his dick springs free.

The woman whimpers, and a responding throb of arousal makes itself known between my legs.

He thrusts, filling her in one swift movement. It’s carnal and raw, and I wish I could say I’m appalled or unmoved, but I’m neither. I let out a tiny gasp, staring in rapt fascination.

Seb leans closer. “They’re defiling your exhibition,” he whispers, and I’m thankful for the break in tension. I try to hold onto the amusement, but it dissipates with each hard thrust of the couple.

Tension wraps around us, and Seb shifts closer.

“Told you,” he whispers, his voice so deep and full of suggestion that it slides right beneath my dress.

But my mind is so fogged up, my body so aroused, that I struggle to work out what he’s talking about.

And then I remember his words the last time we met.

It’s hard to be in the same room as people who are having sex, and not get turned on. Damn near impossible.

Embarrassment flares in my chest, the heat of it mingling with the arousal I can’t control.

He knows I’m turned on. Of course he knows.

He might be polite and charming when he wants to be, but that sexual energy is always simmering beneath the surface.

Humming like electric wires. He can’t help it.

I can feel it emanating off him. Or is it me, doing that?

Rhythmic groans from the couple fill the space. The sound of their bodies slapping together is pornographic. I screw my eyes shut, trying to ignore the heat running through me and the gorgeous man beside me.

“Erica,” Seb addresses me in a low whisper. “Is this turning you on?”

Opening my eyes, I expect to see him looking amused or smirking, but he’s not. He looks deadly serious, his heated gaze on me.

Everything but Seb and the thrusts and moans of the couple nearby fades to insignificance. I’m hardly breathing, and for some inexplicable reason, it feels like we’re the ones having sex.

“Do you want to leave? If you’re uncomfortable, we can leave.

” He takes my hand in his and tugs it gently.

I know he doesn’t intend it, but because of what’s happening in the room and inside my body, his touch sends electric bolts of desire racing through me.

“On three.” He tips his head towards the exit. “We’ll get up and go.”

“No.”

He tilts his head at me and mouths, “No?” His brow furrows, but then his eyes widen. The hint of a smile on his lips tells me he sees right through me to every dirty thought and is ready to catch them in his hands and make them his.

“Your cock feels so good. So.” Thrust . “Fucking.” Thrust . “Hard.”

My mind instantly fills with thoughts of Seb and his cock. What does it look like? Is he hard right now? How big is it? What would it feel like to touch it? Taste it? If I got down on my knees, would it fit in my mouth?

He raises an eyebrow, wordlessly asking what I’m thinking.

I might die here, in the flames of my own sinful thoughts.

Seb’s eyes darken and he lets go of my hand, his fingers settling on the hem of my silk dress. He teases at it, his fingers sliding over my ankle.

Oh, shit . His touch burns. It’s all I can do not to moan and throw myself into his arms, begging him to satisfy the painful need that’s pulsing through me.

The need that I’ve denied for years, for the sake of maintaining my image.

But I will not be another woman Seb Hawkston takes to bed.

I will not let him take my body and break my heart.

“Stop,” I hiss. “Don’t.”

He nods, almost like a bow, and lifts his fingers off my ankle, putting a little space between us. We can’t move too much or the couple will know we’re here, watching them.

Their movements get more vigorous, the repeated cries of pleasure so ecstatic that there’s no possible way to ignore them.

Everything between my legs is throbbing, and jealousy for the couple going at it runs through me like poison.

They’re about to find release, and I’m stuck here, pent up and frustrated, because I always have to be so good . So perfect. An innocent English Rose.

And dating a man like Seb Hawkston has never fitted in with that.

Crouching in the dark, watching people have sex has never fitted in with that.

But… fuck it .

As the man withdraws and turns the woman around so they’re face to face, I crack, splinters fissuring my perfect facade.

“Touch me.” It’s a soft plea, underpinned by a gritty determination. I’m doing this.

Seb’s brow creases. “What did you say?” His voice is low and slightly hoarse.

“Touch me.”

“Touch you… where ?”

I can’t form the words, but a quick glance between my legs reveals it all.

Seb doesn’t hesitate. He slides his hand up my leg, running beneath the fabric until his fingers are on my thigh, his grip hot and hard. “Here?” he murmurs.

“Higher,” I whisper.

He moans quietly as he leans towards me, and it might be the sexiest noise I've ever heard.

In the dim light, his bone structure is accentuated by shadows, and his blue eyes are dark and hungry. I’ve never felt more wanted than I do in this moment.

His face is so close to mine that when he speaks, his words vibrate along my skin. “You sure?”

My breathing is stuttered and shallow, and when I don’t reply, he rests his forehead against mine. His breath is warm against my mouth, and all I want is to press my lips to his and swallow it all.

No man has ever ignited a desire in me like this. It’s so strong that it’s more like a compulsive need to be touched. Taken. Hovering on the edge of temptation with Seb is an exquisite agony I’ve never known.

He shifts his head a little, and his tongue licks at my upper lip, teasing at my mouth.

Oh, God. There is no way I can resist him. Not now.

“Are you sure?” he repeats, and somehow I manage to nod.

He doesn’t waste a second before he kisses me. His lips are full and soft and his tongue slides into my mouth. The hot glide of it against my own sends my thoughts whirling.

His name is mantra that consumes my mind. Seb, Seb, Seb . I’m kissing my best friend. And, oh, God. What a kiss. It’s passionate and desperate, as though he’s been starving for me for far too long.

His hand comes to the back of my neck, fingers twisting into my hair.

The dominance of his touch unleashes something inside me that I’ve kept locked down, and now that it’s out, I have no control over it. My hands are on his face, the scruff on his jaw rough against my palms as I force the kiss deeper, wanting to devour his mouth with my own.

Not far off, the couple are approaching climax, thrusting furiously, their moans gathering momentum.

Seb breaks our kiss, and I meet his gaze with alarm. Why is he stopping?

Seeing my panic, he smiles and whispers against my mouth. “I’ve wanted to kiss you forever.” He shakes his head a fraction, then adds, “I need to taste you. Can I taste you?”

His words set me on fire, and years of self-denial go up in flames. I’m all libido and nothing else. It has me flat on my back in seconds, knees raised, murmuring yes, yes , yes so quietly that I’m not sure even Seb can hear as he positions himself between my legs, nudging them further apart.

He lifts my dress, his fingers trailing over my underwear, teasing at the edges.

I feel like a teenager, letting someone touch me for the first time.

That’s pretty much exactly what I am. The only person who’s ever given me an orgasm is me .

My hands, my fingers. No one’s touched me, and here I am giving it all away to Seb Hawkston on a meaningless Friday night.

But if anyone knows what he’s doing, it’s Seb, so he’s a good choice, isn’t he?

He hooks his fingers into my thong and I raise my hips to let him ease it down my legs and toss it to the side.

The air hits my pussy, and I’m deliciously exposed.

He lowers himself to kiss my inner thighs, his lips working their way upwards, to the place I so desperately want him.

A moan rises in my throat, but I hold it back.

If we make too much noise, the couple will know we’re here.

He teases my entrance with a fingertip, taunting me as if to give me a chance to change my mind, but all I do is arch my hips.

A low rumble of appreciation sounds in the back of his throat as he slides his finger inside.

My body ignites, and I bite down on my lip to stop from crying out.

Closing his eyes, his free hand tightens on my hip as if this is all too much for him.

He pumps his finger inside me slowly like he’s relishing the sensation, muttering against my inner thigh so quietly the words are barely more than desperate exhalations.

He removes his finger, leaving me empty, but only for a second.

Hot breath warms the space between my legs, and then his tongue is there, swiping along through my pussy lips.

Oh, God . I clench my fists to restrain the wave of pleasure that assaults me.

I didn’t know what this would be like, but it’s better than I could ever have imagined.

He’s like velvet, tending me so carefully, caressing my most delicate parts like he treasures them, and a burst of heat surges through me.

I never imagined it would feel this good.

He flicks my clit with the tip of his tongue, circling it back and forth. Sparks ricochet through my core. My back arches and my hips rise, seeking more. That rough scrape of his scruff against my sex.

And then he’s not gentle anymore. He’s devouring me, tongue spearing my entrance, laving my juices.

He moans against me, his large hands dimpling my arse, hauling me closer so he can feast. He nips at my clit, sucking and flicking it, while the fingers of one hand thrust deep inside me again.

Stars flash in my vision. I bite back another moan, but holding it in makes me feel like I’m going to explode.

A wave of pleasure crests and crashes, bringing with it traces of doubt and regret; the unwelcome flotsam and jetsam of my ecstasy.

What the fuck am I doing? I’ve held Seb Hawkston at arm’s length for years, and to break now…

here… like this? To ruin our friendship when there’s a woman waiting for him downstairs?

I can’t do it.

My body and mind go to war. My body wants him, all of him , right here on the gallery floor.

I’d give him everything . But my reputation, my standards, my mother’s rules and the brand I’ve built my career on…

Can I destroy all that for one moment of pleasure in Seb Hawkston’s arms?

Can I do it knowing he came here tonight with someone else? Knowing I'm not even his first choice?

What I’ve done— what I’ve allowed to happen —is so out of character I can’t reconcile it with who I thought I was. My heart thunders in my chest as dizziness hits like an attack of vertigo.

We’re not even alone. There are other people in the room. If they were to see us, to realise who I am…

I jerk away from Seb’s mouth, wrenching my hips from his hands. I shunt backwards across the floor, closing my legs and sitting up. My heart races, each breath a struggle.

Seb’s mouth and chin, covered in my juices, glisten in the moonlight streaming in the window, but his wide, confused gaze is where I focus.

“What? What’s wrong?” he hisses.

I shake my head, unable to put into words what’s going on inside it. I need to get out of here. I need to get away from Seb.

What have I done?

I pull down my dress and stand, no longer caring that there are other people in the room. My movement disturbs their rhythm, and the man shouts, but I barely hear him.

The last thing I see is Seb’s shocked expression before I run from the room.