Enticing You (How to Marry a Billionaire #1)

Episode 7

EPISODE 7

BATTLE FOR THE BULGE

Emily

Sebastian Tate takes my hand and we slip away from the group slowly so as not to draw attention. But once we make it beyond the French doors and inside the mansion…

“Your room.” Sebastian growls.

My breath catches as I remember the lingerie I left strewn on the floor. Normally I’d rather be in my own room, but we’re perfectly safe here, according to Evangeline. “What about yours?”

“I just got here. I’m not unpacked or anything.”

“So what? Did I ask you to brush your teeth or change your pants? If this is happening, it’s going to happen in your room, Sebastian.”

A moment later we’re inside his suite, which is way larger than mine. Not that it matters. He does indeed have walls, and at the moment all I can think about is getting scratches on my back from him thrusting into me.

He closes his door, grabs me, and crushes his mouth to mine.

A kiss.

A kiss that devours me and drugs me all at once.

How is it that I want this man so much, yet I haven’t even kissed him?

That’s being remedied now, and my God… He tastes of champagne and mint and musk. I melt into the kiss, returning it with all the ache in my body, all the ache between my legs, until?—

He breaks our contact with a slight smack of his lips.

I let out a soft whimper .

“You don’t kiss like a proper English rose, Emily. You kiss like a seductive siren. You’re not proper at all.”

“I think that ship sailed when I threatened to expose you on the lawn,” I retort.

“A shame.” He pushes a lock of hair off my forehead. “I’d love to dirty up a proper English lady.”

“You won’t find one here, I’m afraid. Now, are you going to fuck me, or are you just a lot of American hot air?”

He grips my shoulders and presses me against the wall next to the door. “Those are fighting words.”

“They’re meant to be.” I squirm against the throbbing in my core. I had sex a month ago—a one-nighter after a gala in Manhattan. It was good, but I’m already more turned on by Sebastian’s kiss than I was by—what was his name?—all night.

“I ought to punish you,” he says through gritted teeth, his whisky eyes on fire. “Punish you for making me want you so bad. Making me leave the party.”

“This was your idea, Sebastian. Get on with it.”

His mouth comes down on mine once more.

This time the kiss is even more raw, our lips sliding over each other’s, our teeth clashing, our tongues dueling. If this is how he kisses…

Damn, I’m in trouble.

When he moves from my mouth to my ear, nipping my lobe, I sigh, my legs trembling. He trails wet kisses over my jawline, my neck, and then the tops of my breasts, which are pushed up to the moon by this dress.

“Fuck,” he murmurs against my flesh. “What color are your nipples, Emily?”

“Nipples…” I gasp out.

“Yes, nipples.” He sucks on my flesh. “What color?”

“Bloody well see for yourself,” I offer.

He yanks my bodice down, exposing my brownish nipples, already hard and aching for his lips and tongue.

He groans. “Beautiful.” He pinches one between his thumb and forefinger.

A tingle shoots straight to my pussy. “Suck on it. Please.”

He closes his lips around the nipple while cupping my other breast. Prickly warmth surges through me, and I want more, more, more…

I reach between our bodies and grab the bulge in Sebastian’s trousers. He growls and tightens his teeth against my nipple.

My God, he feels huge. Perfect to drill into me and ease the ache inside.

“Oh!” I cry out when he gives my nipple a sharp bite. “Sebastian, my God!”

He sucks me and I rub my palm against his bulge, ready to?—

Three knocks on the door vibrate through the wall and into my back.

Sebastian lifts his face. “Shit,” he whispers harshly.

“Mr. Tate? Are you in there?”

Sebastian holds a finger to his lips. We stay silent.

“Mr. Tate? It’s time to—” The doorknob turns.

“Coming!” Sebastian throws himself against the door to keep it from opening.

A throat clears. “Ms. Livingston says it’s time for your welcome.”

“Be there in a moment. Thank you.”

“All right.” He rolls his eyes. “Cock-blocked by a matchmaker. That’s got to be a first.”

I stay quiet for another minute, and then I look down at the dress bunched around my waist, and— “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” Sebastian asks.

“It’s torn. You tore my dress, you scoundrel.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining.”

“You’re correct. I wasn’t complaining, but I am now. What am I supposed to do, Sebastian? Change?”

“Why not? You should have plenty of dresses.”

“I don’t have an identical dress. Everyone will know what we were doing up here.”

“Who cares?”

“I do.” I pull the dress over my breasts and hold it in place. “I should have never come up here.”

“As I recall, it was your idea,” he says.

“My idea?” I shake my head. “You’re the one who wanted to ‘fuck me up against a wall.’ You’ve got some nerve.”

“I have nerve? I’m the one with blue balls here.”

“You think a woman can’t have blue balls?”

“I think you’d have to have balls first, which I’m pretty sure you don’t.”

I clench my jaw. “You know very well what I mean. I don’t know what I was thinking.” I open the door, glance both ways down the hallway, and then scurry to the stairwell and walk another flight up to the third floor where my suite is.

My petulance has dissipated somewhat when I reach the hallway, only to find Ariel sitting outside her room, which is next to mine.

“Ariel?” I walk to her, still holding my dress around my chest. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve made a complete ass of myself is all. I don’t belong here.”

“What do you mean? I saw you with Brett Dawson earlier. You seemed to be doing fine.”

She shakes her head, sniffling. “I want to go home.”

“Don’t be preposterous. We all agreed to this, no matter how horrid it may be.”

She sniffles again and meets my gaze. “What happened to you?”

“I did something stupid.”

“We have that in common then.”

“Come on.” I hold one hand out to her, the other still holding my dress in place.

She takes my hand and stands. I lead her to my room.

“Check your makeup. Touch it up. I have to fix my dress.” I’ve repaired worse defects seconds before a model takes the runway with double-sided tape and a smile. I reach into the top drawer of the chest for my sewing kit— “Damn! Where is the dratted thing?”

“Can I help you?” Ariel asks.

“Yes, please. I need my sewing kit, or a safety pin or any kind of fastener. I know my sewing kit is here somewhere. Look in the night table, will you?”

She paws through the drawer. “Nothing, but I’ve got a safety pin in my room. Hold on a minute.”

I heave a relieved sigh. The sewing kit will turn up, but I need a quick fix.

Ariel returns quickly, and in another few seconds, my dress is pushing up my breasts once more, the safety pin nicely hidden.

“You’re a gem, Ariel. Thank you.”

She smiles. “You’d do the same for me.”

“Of course. Let’s get your makeup fixed and then go back down. The men are doing some sort of welcome thing.”

She sighs. “I don’t know.”

I tip her chin up. “Come on. We’ll go down together. If anyone asks, we…we had to get tampons. That will shut them up.”

“We can’t say that,” she gasps.

“Do you have a better idea?” I wipe the mascara stains from under her eyes with a makeup cloth.

“Not really.”

“They probably won’t ask anyway. If the men are talking, no one will even notice us.” I touch up her blush and add some lip gloss. “There. Good as new.”

Ariel peers into my mirror. “Thanks, Emily.” She turns to me. “Now…about your lipstick.”

“Oh. Right.”

Kissing Sebastian Tate did a number on my makeup as well. One look in the mirror is a reminder. My lips are tender and swollen from his magnificent kisses. Too bad he turned out to be a first-class arsehole.

When my face is satisfactory, I grab Ariel’s arm. “Ready?”

“I suppose.”

“No suppose . You’re ready. You take this place by storm, Ariel Tanner. Repeat after me. I deserve to be here.”

“I deserve to be here,” she says softly.

“Louder.”

“I deserve to be here!”

I smile and draw in a breath of our mingled perfumes—hers is floral, mine more earthy, with a touch of Sebastian Tate. “Damned right you do. Now let’s go see what kind of hot air those four are spewing down below.”

“All right. I’ll go. As soon as you tell me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“What kind of kisser is Sebastian Tate?”

I let out a sigh. “Only the best on both sides of the Atlantic, love. I’m seriously fucked.”