Sebastian sits on a small couch. He rises slowly when he sees me. You’d think that seeing him in a suit every day would have prepared me for this, but it hasn’t. He wears an elegant navy suit, and wears it well. His hair still has that fuck-me look from this morning, and his entire appearance screams of masculinity and testosterone.
“You look perfect,” Sebastian says.
“You don’t look too shabby yourself.” I only realize I’m still standing by the door when he closes the distance between us and locks the door. His hand touches my waist for a brief second, and it’s enough to turn my knees to rubber.
“Why did you lock it? You have a bodyguard outside.”
“I wouldn’t want him to step inside at a bad moment.”
He welcomes me in the room, pointing to the couch.
“This is where I stay until the show is over,” he explains as I sit. “After that, the press will be asked to leave so the guests can enjoy the after-party.”
“So you’re incognito during the show.”
“I am. I told you before I don’t like journalists. Whenever they see me, they start questioning me about my private life instead of focusing on the company. It’s up to you if you want to be incognito with me.”
“Why does that sound dirty?” I giggle, which I don’t do often. What does this man do to me?
“I can make anything sound dirty,” he breathes in my ear, and I know this is a slippery slope.
“Is that so?” My flirty tone surprises us both.
“I’ll prove it to you.”
He eyes my lips for two incredibly sensual seconds, but instead of kissing me, he brings the bottle of champagne.
“You should be sitting with your brothers at one of the tables near the runway.” I strain my eyes, looking through the glass. I can see the runway, and I will see the models, but only a hawk could see the jewelry they’ll be wearing. “You won’t see anything from here.”
He waves his hand impatiently. “You can’t see a damn thing anyway. The whole show is that, a show. The jewels are small. Everyone looks at the screens. Will you stay?” I startle when he pops the bottle open and pours champagne in the two glasses. Nodding, I take the glass he hands me.
“I need to eat something first,” I say nervously. “Before I drink, I mean. I haven’t eaten since I last saw you; and if I drink right away, I might lose my head.”
“We don’t want that, do we?” Sebastian muses, gesturing to the table as if saying help yourself.
I put my glass down and grab a plate, filling it with a little bit of everything. After the first few bites, I realize I won’t be able to eat much anyway. Not with Sebastian so close, and so impossibly sexy. When it becomes clear I can’t take one more bite, I abandon the plate on the table, take my glass again, and join Sebastian on the couch.
The second I sit, he leans in, wiping the corner of my lips with his thumb.
“You have a bit of cream,” he murmurs. I smile shyly and take a large gulp of champagne, cleaning my mouth as discreetly as I can before putting the glass down again.
Sebastian doesn’t take his eyes off me, and it becomes increasingly harder to breathe. I’ve been the object of his attention before, but now, in this small room with no one to see us and tons of expectations, it’s too much.
“You look very beautifu
l tonight.” His tone is raspier than before. It does things to me. Delicious things. “But then again, you always look beautiful. Even in your little suits.”
No, no, no. Why does he say all the right things? OhGodOhGod. He nibbles at my ear. The second his lips touch my skin, something dangerous lights inside me. Desire. It spreads like wildfire, and when he tilts my head to his lips, I don’t stop him.
Our mouths meet in a fierce crash. I moan against him as his tongue meets mine. He responds in kind, pressing me closer to him. No man has kissed me like this, with consuming desire and desperate need. I don’t know how I end up lying on the couch on my back, under him, but I don’t care. He’s on top of me, propping himself on one arm in order not to crush me.
His lips feel so good on mine. I don’t want him to stop. I savor his exquisite mouth with fervor as his free hand travels my body. Before long, it finds its way under my dress, caressing my thigh, traveling further up until. . .
He groans, pulling his lips away, placing the hand on my waist. “You’re wearing lace.”
“You told me to,” I say between moans as his lips descend to my neck.
“Obedient girl; I like it. So you’re wearing it for me?”