Page 37 of Worth Every Moment (Hawkston Billionaires #4)

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A s soon as we re-enter the main party, I slide my hand out of Erica’s dress. But fuck me, if her arse wasn’t the softest, smoothest thing I’ve ever felt. My dick is definitely raising its head. This woman can get me hard like no one else.

I need to do something, or I’ll have an obvious boner in my black tie trousers. “Come on, let’s get a drink.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Yes, you do.” I say, and she raises a brow.

“Sparkling water at drinks parties, tap water at home. Never with ice. Tea. Coffee, but only decaf. Never a mocktail, because they’re too full of sugar.

And you have been known to succumb to the odd elderflower cordial when it’s particularly hot.

” She achieves the feat of smiling and frowning simultaneously, and I add, “But no alcohol, because the perfect Erica Lefroy never does anything naughty.” She elbows me and a chortle pops out of me like a bubble. “Let’s get you that sparkling water.”

I escort her to a secluded corner of the bar, where I take a champagne for me and water for her. She takes a sip, full lips pressed to the edge of the glass, eyes wide as she stares at me.

I’m having a hard time concentrating because now I know she’s got no underwear on. I force myself to keep my eyes up, but in my periphery, I can see the outline of her nipples through the silk, and it’s a cruel temptation.

She sets down her glass and, without warning, throws her arms around my neck and kisses my cheek, pressing her nearly naked breasts against my chest. “You’re the best fake boyfriend ever,” she whispers in my ear. “Thank you so, so much. I’m going to be in your debt forever for that display.”

Her enthusiasm draws a laugh from me, and she squeezes me tight before letting go and stepping back.

“Mum’s face was priceless,” Erica continues. “I thought she was going to pass out when you said all that stuff. How on earth did you come up with it? Maybe you’re the one who should be auditioning for the movies.”

I flinch the tiniest bit, surprised she thought I made any of it up. Every word of it was true. “Maybe,” I admit.

“And when you said that thing about me screaming your name…” she fades off, and a blush creeps up her cheeks even as a giggle spills from her beautiful mouth, sounding like a cascade of starlight.

I clench my jaw to hold back the surge of emotion flooding my body, but my hands prickle with it. I want to reach out and pull her against me again. I don’t ever want to let her go. I want to hear her scream my name over and over again. I might want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

“She’ll probably have nightmares about that,” I say, forcing a rough laugh.

“Probably.” Erica lays a gentle hand on my arm. “I’m sorry for how she spoke to you.” I keep quiet and she adds, “About the…” She wafts her hand.

“Revolving door?”

Erica grimaces. “Yeah. It’s not personal. Not really. She doesn’t like men, but you’re the worst type. Because…”

She fades off again, but I know what she’s not saying, and she knows I know. Her father ran off with another woman before she was born, and because I haven’t committed myself to anyone before, I could be just as bad as him. “It’s okay. I don’t care what your mother thinks of me.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I only care what you think.”

Erica studies me and the moment crackles; if I were to touch her, static would spark between us.

“Well, I think you’re great,” she says with a levity that undermines the tension and, I hope, whatever she really feels. She pops a hip and rests a hand on it, pushing her lips into a theatrical pout. “But are we going to talk about how you just had your hand down my dress?”

The sight of her pretending to be riled up for confrontation draws a snort from me, and I’m thankful she’s redirected the conversation.

“Are we going to talk about how you’re not wearing any underwear?”

“No. But I admit you were right, and I was wrong. We need to have the physical contact to make this convincing.” She taps her chin. “I don’t want to scrap the rules entirely though. I want to tweak them.”

“Let’s hear it.”

Her tongue slides over her bottom lip, leaving it glistening and moist. I try not to look. “Your hand on my bum is fine, but only in public, and only over my clothes.”

I hold back the grin that wants to work its way over my mouth. “So we’re not getting naked together anytime soon?”

She affects a coy smile, eyes gleaming. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was flirting with me. “No.” She pauses. “Unless my mother can see.”

I chuckle. “That’s some kinky shit you’re into, Lefroy.”

She gasps and lands a playful thwack on my arm. It’s definitely a flirtatious move, and if she were anyone else, I’d think she wanted something to happen between us. But with Erica, I have no fucking clue what she wants aside from the role in Taming the fucking Beast.

“Not what I meant and you know it,” she reprimands, but I don’t reply because over her shoulder I catch sight of Mrs Lefroy re-entering the ballroom. Setting my glass aside, I loosen my bow tie and rapidly unbutton my shirt.

Erica’s jaw drops wide and she reaches out to stop me. “What are you doing?”

“Mummy’s here.” I nod at where Mrs Lefroy is standing on the other side of the room, throwing daggers our way.

Erica glances over, then turns back to me with a cheeky glimmer in her eye. I arch a brow, asking wordless permission, and Erica grants it with a nod. With my shirt half undone, I haul her into me, sliding my hand right back down the low scoop back of her dress, but not inside it this time.

“Do your shirt up, you idiot,” she mutters against my shoulder.

“In a minute.” I hug her tighter. “I’m busy right now.”

She laughs, and the sound brings another smile to my lips.

Can she feel how hard my heart is racing?

I catch the scent of her perfume in her hair.

It’s the new one. Infinity . I lean my head against hers, inhaling deeply, recalling how she smelled like this at the photo shoot.

When this fake relationship ends, this scent will fucking haunt me.

But if this is all I get with Erica—a fake relationship for three months—then I am taking every fucking scrap of it. I will devour it like a man starved. And then I’ll feast on the memory when it’s over.

We hold eye contact, heat rolling through me in waves as an idea forms. It’s crazy, but she might just agree to it.

“You need this to look different, right?” I ask, and she nods cautiously.

“You need it to look like I’ve changed for you.

You—Erica Lefroy—are so sexy, so irresistible, that I’m putting aside all my old habits because you’ve altered my life.

No one else is coming through that revolving door again. Ever.”

A flinch skitters over her face that I can’t make sense of. “Mmm-hmm. Ideally, yes.”

I can hardly believe what I’m about to suggest, because it’s a wild idea, and I’ve never done anything like it before.

It’ll piss Dad off, and who knows what that might lead to.

But all my concerns are outweighed by two undeniable facts: it feels like the right thing to do, and I want it to the core of my being.

“Move in with me.”

A small jolt runs through her. “What?”

“You want me to show the world that it’s different this time?”

Her chin quivers the slightest bit. “Yes.”

“Come and live with me. In my house. I’ve never done that with anyone before.”

“Live with you? Like… roommates?”

I can’t help smiling. “No, like my girlfriend.”

“Fake girlfriend,” she corrects.

“Yeah. Until Nico and Kate’s wedding. The full three months.”

“Because you can’t last longer than that without sex?

” She teases, probably hoping I’ll laugh along with her, but I’m too busy ignoring the twinge in my chest as I recall that she called me a manwhore .

A derogatory title, but one I’ve earned, I suppose, even if I did it bathed deep in shame. And I can’t change it now.

“Hey, I’m joking,” she purrs, recalling my attention, but there’s something in her gaze that has me wondering if this isn’t all a joke to her either.

If something about what she’s just said bothers her the same way it bothers me.

But I can’t think about that now. There’s so much I haven’t told her.

Can’t tell her. If this were a real relationship, keeping the kind of secrets I’m keeping would be a shitty foundation.

But it’s not real, as she keeps reminding me. “Terrible joke. Sorry,” she adds.

I give her a squeeze to let her know I’m not offended. “Move in with me tomorrow and stay until we leave for Nico and Kate’s wedding.”

“And what happens after the wedding? Do I just move out?”

“Does that mean you’re moving in?”

“Yeah.” She flashes me an unguarded smile.“It’s a good idea.”

Excitement fizzes through me. Erica Lefroy is going to live with me, in my home, under my roof.

I’m not stupid enough to believe she’s agreeing because she genuinely wants to live with me.

This is about her career, and getting back at her mum, just like the photo shoot and this launch party.

I know all that, but it doesn’t stop me feeling like I might explode at the idea of living with her.

“But how does it end?” she continues. “We should have discussed this before. If I’m living with you, how does it end? Why does it end?”

It’s right on the tip of my tongue to explain.

To tell her everything so we can work out how the fuck it ends together .

But my mouth refuses to form the words, ‘ I have to get engaged to someone else ’, so I say, “We’ll work it out.

You can break up with me. Make it big and showy and that’ll be the end of that. ”

She looks unsure, and guilt skitters down my spine. “And… are we still friends after such a big public breakup?”

“Always.” I pull her closer, and the soft music of the slow dance wraps around us. To me, there might as well be no one else here because I am consumed by the woman in my arms. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Even if it tears me apart.