Page 34 of Worth Every Moment (Hawkston Billionaires #4)

ERICA

I ’ve been screening Mum’s calls since our fight on Harley Street, but tonight, at the launch party for my cosmetics line and the Infinity fragrance, I’ll have to face her.

I take a seat at my dressing table and open up my phone—a brand new handset that Seb sent over as a gift, all set up and ready to use by his PA—and reread Mum’s last message. She sent it in response to my social media post of me and Seb at the photo shoot.

What were you thinking? You look like a whore.

When I didn’t reply, she sent another that said , He will destroy you.

That last one lingered in my mind, latching onto all my insecurities.

I can’t deny that Mum is partly right, but her focus is wrong. She thinks Seb will destroy my brand, but I know it’s my heart that’s at risk.

Maybe it’s always been my heart.

I hit delete on both her messages and force myself to take a few deep breaths to settle my nerves.

The cosmetics launch is a huge event taking place at a venue just off Leicester Square.

Mum wanted it floral and pretty and innocent, but I’ve completely sabotaged her arrangements and revamped the entire thing.

It was intense, and I wasn’t the only one pulling all-nighters to get it done, but it was worth it to take control.

She’s going to go nuts. Now, we’re using the images of me in my underwear, and Seb beneath me, looking like it’s the only place in the world he ever wants to be.

Heat pools between my legs at the recollection.

Those photos are hot, and since I last saw Seb, I’ve spent almost all my time analysing them, choosing the best ones, and having all the publicity posters for the launch remade and distributed at short notice.

I have been obsessing over Seb Hawkston, and every time I looked at those pictures, I felt all warm and bubbly inside.

Giddy might be the word for it, if that also encompassed the feeling of low-key arousal that hummed in my veins at the same time.

If I’m a whore, I’m only a whore for Seb.

The problem is, he’s a fire that will burn me to ash if I get too close.

I can’t let that happen, so I’ve made a list of rules to keep our fake dating on track.

He’ll probably think I’m crazy for suggesting them, and instigating them at this late stage is as good as admitting that I’m the liability.

I need the rules because I don’t trust myself around him, and if I want to have a friendship with him when this arrangement is over, which I do, then I can't allow the lines between us to get any more blurred.

My body is already confused.

I will not let him break my heart.

My phone buzzes again and I glance at it to see a message from him come in.

I’m downstairs. Ready for our first official date?

My heart flutters. I shouldn’t be feeling like this in response to a text, but the way he kissed me during the photo shoot has been playing on a loop in my head.

The feel of his tongue on mine, the scrape of his stubble against my skin…

and the agonized look on his face when it was over. When he was hard .

Was he, though? He didn’t explicitly confirm it. Maybe I got it wrong. It’s not as though I have much experience in that arena.

Blowing out a quick breath, I hit the call button and he answers instantly.

“Hi,” I say, standing from my seat at the dressing table and brushing down my dress with my free hand.

It’s a navy silk evening gown with a scooped back so low it only just covers my bum.

It’s pretty special, if I do say so myself.

And— bonus —it’s another thing Mum will hate; she picked out a pastel coloured floral dress, all chiffon and reeking of innocence and purity.

This dress is, dare I say it, sexy. Provocative .

I’m also not wearing any underwear because the fabric wouldn’t allow it.

“Hey.” Seb’s deep voice sends another ripple of desire through me, and going without underwear suddenly feels like a bigger risk than I thought.

I tuck the list of fake dating rules into my purse. “Are you still in your car?”

“No. I’m in the lobby.”

Heat rushes up my neck and I fan myself, glad he can’t see me. “Okay. I’ll be down in a sec. Can you look like you’re pleased to see me, in case anyone’s watching?”

“I’m always pleased to see you.”

A few minutes later, we’re buckled into the back of his car. Before I lose my nerve, I pull the list out of my clutch and pass it to him. It’s lengthy because I wanted to think of everything.

“What’s this?” he says, taking it from me and unfolding the piece of paper.

“I’ve been thinking about our arrangement, and I think we need boundaries.”

He doesn’t lift his gaze from the list, eyes moving back and forth over my script. I try to keep my cool, knowing he’s reading the section entitled ‘Physical Contact’.

All physical contact must be initiated by Miss Lefroy.

Physical contact permitted: Hand-holding, a kiss on the cheek, an arm around the shoulder or waist (no lower). You may take Miss Lefroy’s arm or she may take yours.

You will not pay undue attention to any other women for the duration of this arrangement.

You must at all times appear delighted with Miss Lefroy and take great pleasure in her company. Under no circumstances are you to display annoyance or frustration in public with or directed at Miss Lefroy.

There will be no nudity of any kind, nor will there be any sort of sexual relations between you and Miss Lefroy.

Any deviation from the above is entirely at Miss Lefroy’s discretion and must be discussed in advance.

“You came up with all these yourself?” he asks, mirth dancing in his eyes.

“Yes. Can you take it seriously, please? If we don’t outline things properly, we might get confused.”

“Confused?” He leans in, his lips tipping up at the corners. “Confused how?”

His flirtatious tone, paired with the gleam in his eyes, is a blatant flouting of the rules. “Don’t do that. You’re making it sexual.” I sound snippy, but Seb only smiles.

“I’m not. But I don’t date people I don’t want to get sexual with. What would be the point?”

“It’s pretend. We—”

“Yes. Pretend. But it has to look real.” 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.