Page 44 of Worth Every Moment (Hawkston Billionaires #4)

SEB

I ’ve officially killed our friendship stone dead by telling her about the camera.

Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Maybe I should’ve told her I came too.

Told her that seeing her try to stifle her noises —God, how I’d love to hear them again— as her body quivered on my bed was enough to have me shooting my load all over my trousers.

Maybe I should have told her that she’s on the wall because I’m obsessed with her.

Because I have been for years. Because she’s the only woman I ever want to come home to, the only one I want to share my life with, and the only way I could ever make it happen was to hang her on the fucking wall.

Maybe I should have told her that I’ve never taken another woman in there because it would sully a space that was only meant for her, even if she never darkened the fucking doorway.

And I know how pathetic that is—I’ve always known.

It’s why I normally lock the door and why I had the cameras installed.

No one but me and my housekeeper ever go in there.

I swallow a gulp of whisky, letting it slide down my throat, warm and blurring my mind.

Taking the edge off. I shouldn’t have spoken to her the way I did.

But damn it, I can’t live with what I saw, what happened today, and not address it.

I couldn’t have ignored it; the guilt would have eaten me up.

Whatever I thought she would do when I told her, denying the feelings that drove her to do it wasn’t it.

I should march into her room and make her face the fact that there is something real here, however much she wants to call it fake.

Behind me, the glass slides open. She’s coming out?

I don’t turn, but everything in me strains like a flower leaning towards the sun as she paces towards me until she stands beside me.

She leans on the railing and stares out at the park beyond.

The hum of black cabs racing through Hyde Park rises through the darkness.

“I deleted the footage,” I grind out. “If that’s what you want to know. You’re safe. No one is ever going to see it.”

“No one except you,” she says quietly.

My body pulses as images of her flick through my mind; her hair, her legs, the smooth expanse of her stomach, the way her back arched and her tits shook when she came.

The memory is so vivid that I can’t shut it down.

I’ll remember it for the rest of my life, whether I want to or not.

I can’t put any of this into words, nor do I think it would be appropriate to try, so I say nothing.

“You think I need therapy?” Her voice is small, and the question makes my heart ache. Fuck . I can be a real arsehole sometimes.

I take a sip of my drink. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

She steps closer, and her shoulder rests against mine in a touch so slight I’m not sure it’s deliberate. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

I finish my scotch and turn to face this beautiful woman, who’s been my friend for years.

The fading summer light shimmers across her cheekbones, and a dull ache spreads through my chest. I don’t know if it’s guilt or regret, or something deeper still.

But her long dark hair is all glossy and draped over one shoulder, and I have to bite my cheek to stop the impulse to twist it round my fist and drag her closer. “For what?”

“All of it.” Her gaze drifts from mine, and for a moment, the composed Erica Lefroy looks vulnerable. “You’re right. Obviously.” She waves her hand above her shoulder, gesturing towards my bedroom as if to say everything that happened in there proves it. “I’m attracted to you.”

The words light a fire in my gut, spreading through my entire body, and I wish I had another scotch I could down. I’ve longed for her to say something like this for years, and now that she’s here, confessing it, I’m so overwhelmed that I can’t think of a single thing to say.

The silence feels like it lasts an eternity.

“Are you going to say anything?” There’s a hint of worry in her voice that has my whole body aching to take her in my arms, hug her, make all of her worries disappear.

But I also feel like I’m walking a tightrope…

one wrong step and every good moment we’ve ever shared is going to plunge into oblivion.

How the fuck do I handle this so she doesn’t fly off the handle and run away again?

“Are you sure?” I regret the words as soon as they’re out—I don’t want to give her the opportunity to change her mind, but I do need her to be sure.

I want her to walk into whatever this is with complete certainty.

I want her by my side, not behind me, pulled along by the insatiable desire I feel for her.

This has to be her choice. Whatever this is.

“I don’t make a habit of breaking into other men’s bedrooms and…” She waves her hand in the air like she’s too embarrassed to say ‘masturbate’ out loud. “You know. So, yeah. I’m sure. I’d have thought it went without saying, to be honest.”

I chuckle, but it sounds more like a cough because I kill it. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. “It does, but, fuck , it feels good to hear you say it.”

She looks up at me through hooded eyes that are full of apology, as though she’s worried that I’ll never forgive her. She needn’t be. I’d forgive her for anything. Everything . “I’m sorry I went into your room.”

“I’m sorry I watched.” I shrug like it’s no big deal. “If it makes you feel better, I came too.”

Her beautiful mouth pulls up at one side. “You did?”

“Fuck, yes. Hard. At my desk.”

She hangs her head, but the apples of her cheeks grow round for a second as she smiles to herself.

“So… what now?” Her voice is breathy and full of need.

The silence that follows is brittle, the sexual tension like glass on the cusp of shattering.

She didn’t just come out here to talk. I can feel it in my bones.

I set my glass down on the table and turn to face her, taking in the eager tilt of her body towards me, the unhinged edge to her gaze, as though she’s both frightened and aroused at once.

“Tell me what you want.”

She inhales. “I… I don’t know…”

I step a little closer, and her energy prickles all over my skin. Take it slow, Seb. Take it fucking slow. “Do you want me to touch you?”

She takes a few uneven breaths, not breaking eye contact, and then she nods, very slightly.

I reach out, my fingertip grazing her shoulder, following the soft curve of it.

The skin to skin sends a lighting strike right to my dick.

I’ve touched Erica before, but never as intentionally as this.

Never when the future of our relationship hinges on it, and each brush of skin is charged with both of our want.

She lets out a small whimper as though she could come if I did it one more time. To be honest, I think I might come if I touch her again.

“Here?” I ask.

She nods.

I run my index and middle finger across her collarbone, resting them in the divot at the base of her throat. “Here?” I whisper.

She nods again, swaying a little on the spot, her eyes fluttering closed.

I raise my open hand up her throat, my touch light, but I squeeze it just a little, and she moans at the pressure. “Do you know what you want yet?”

Her nod of the head is infinitesimally small. “Everything.”

“In that case…” I slide my hand to the back of her neck, fingers tangling the hair at her nape, tilting her head up to look at me. I pull her so close that my breath ricochets off her cheek when I whisper, “You’re going to let me do everything I’ve ever wanted to do to you.”

She swallows. “All at once?”

“No.” I stifle a smile. “Unless you want me to break you.”

“Seb.” There’s a desperate edge to her voice when she moans my name, and she pulls back, her grip tightening on the balcony as she stares out at the darkened park.

It would be cold out here if it weren’t for the heaters on either side of us.

She leans over the railing. “I think I might have a heart attack. I might be sick. I might—”

I step closer and put a hand on her waist, easing her gently round to face me again. I wait until she calms. “Please don’t do that.” I lean closer to her ear. “I have a much better idea.”

“What?”

“I’ll make you come so hard you’ll pass out.”

She shudders, a whimper sliding between her perfect lips.

“Oh, fuck me.” It’s not a command, it’s a helpless and vulnerable whisper, and the need in her tone turns me on like nothing else.

I groan against her neck, pulling her flush against me, and she tips her head back, breathing rapidly. “This is going to mess everything up.”

“It won’t. I promise. It’s going to make everything better.” She lowers her head and I press my forehead against hers, our breaths mingling. “Really,” I add with a slight shrug, “We’re fucked now anyway. So we might as well.”

In the look she gives me, I see all sides of her.

Fear, trust, humour, and even the desire that drove her to sneak into my room earlier today and brought her back out here to find me now.

All of it is fucking precious, and I wish I could catch it and hold it in my hands.

But I can’t, and I’m painfully aware that this moment is pivotal and with every second that passes, it’s slipping through my fingers.

My body rails against the transience of it.

I want to keep it… keep her, keep us , right in this version of the present, where everything is a possibility, and the future is unwritten.

Where everything I’ve ever wanted is right here for the taking.

I want to live in this sweet moment of tension forever.

“Okay,” she murmurs. “Yes. Okay.”