Page 33 of Bid For Me

I stare at the screen for a moment longer, my finger hovering over the green button to answer. But I don’t. Instead, I press the red one, sending it straight to voicemail. I’m not ready for this. Not yet. Not with everything that’s running through my head. I know I need to clean up, eat something, and get ready for tonight, but everything else feels like it can wait.

I strip off my clothes, tossing them into the laundry basket, and step into the shower. The hot water hits my skin, steam rising and filling the small space. I scrub my hair, rinse off the sweat of last night, and try to shake off the weight pressing on my chest.

It’s a moment of silence, of clarity, of solitude, and I cling to it. I close my eyes, letting the water run down my back, pushing away the gnawing thoughts of my father’s voice, the missed call, the unanswered questions.

Instead, I stand under the hot water, the steam enveloping me, trying to clear my head. My fingers trail lazily over the bar of soap as my thoughts slip, as they always seem to, toward her. Elle.

I can’t help it. Even now, after everything that’s happened between us, she lingers in my mind like an itch I can’t quite scratch. I picture her in that black dress she wore on our date, the way it clung to her curves, the way her eyes sparkled with a mixture of defiance and something darker, something that mirrors my own desires. Then I think about the last time I saw her, walking the dogs, and the soft, breathy moans she let out when I kissed her, when Imadeher feel something she wasn’t sure she wanted but couldn’t deny.

My body reacts almost instantly, heat pooling low in my belly, a sudden surge of desire coursing through me. I find myself imagining her in the club tonight – sitting at the bar, those tight heels dangling from her fingers as she sips something expensive. Or maybe I’d pull her out onto the dance floor, grinding against her, taking her right there in front of everyone. She’d bemine, her eyes locked on me, no escape, no hiding.

I bite down on a groan, my hand moving down to wrap around my dick which is already rock hard and throbbing. Squeezing tightly, I lose myself in the fantasy as it intensifies, my mind filling with images of her dressed in nothing but a pair of heels, her breath coming faster as I press her against the nearest wall, my lips on her neck, marking her.

But as the tension builds, something shifts. I stop.

It’s not right. Not tonight. I shouldn’t bring her with me. Not while there’s still this other business to handle. Asher wants totalk, and as much as I want to ignore it, I can’t. I don’t even know what the fuck he wants, but I’m not going to drag Elle into it. Not when the last time I got involved with Sullivan was such a fucking mess.

I release myself with a sharp exhale, slowly letting go of the pressure building inside me. My breath steadies, and I roll my shoulders in frustration at myself in the fogged mirror opposite the shower. I shouldn’t have let my mind wander there. She deserves more than a night of lust and whatever game I’d be playing tonight. If I want her, I need to do it right.

Tomorrow. I’ll make things up to her. A grand gesture. I’ll apologise. I’ll prove that I’m not just the man who uses people for his own pleasure. I’ll show her that she means more than just a passing indulgence. I need to think through what I’m doing first, and if that means being a little more patient, then so be it.

With a deep breath, I finish rinsing off and step out of the shower. The cool air hits my damp skin, and I quickly wrap a towel around my waist, grabbing another to dry my hair. The sound of pounding on the door, urgent and angry, makes my pulse jump.

I move across the bathroom, my mind still buzzing with the remnants of the fantasy, the need to do better by Elle, and the dread that always follows when I see my father’s face. Because I know it’s him at the door. It couldn’t be anyone else, and besides, I’d recognise his furious fist pounding in any alternate universe.

I reach the door and peer through the peephole. His angry eyes lock with mine, and my heart sinks. The sight of his face makes my stomach tighten in ways I wish I could ignore. His features are sharp, his jaw clenched, and his eyes burning with that all-too-familiar anger. His expression makes my heart sink, and for a second, I consider pretending I’m not home.

But I know he’s not going to let this go.

Shit.

I step back and take a slow, steadying breath.

I need to get dressed, find something to eat, and figure out how to make it through tonight. I’ve got plans, and they don’t involve dealing with my father’s drama. Not now. Not ever.

But then –bang, bang, bang.

The sound is so forceful that it makes me flinch, the door rattling in its frame as if it might break. I freeze, the towel still clutched around my waist, heart thumping against my chest.

“Sebastian! Open up! I know you’re in there!”

It’s never a good sign when he uses my full name.

I move slowly, as if the longer I take, the less real this will feel. I reach for the door, my hand gripping the cool metal of the doorknob as I hesitate.

But I know better.

The last time I did that, it didn’t end well.

“Sebastian!” he bellows, throwing his weight against the door as I open it so that I have to jump back. The door crashes into the wall behind and I let out a long sigh. My old man has never been one for subtlety.

He’s scowling like he’s just been stabbed in the back. He marches into the room, slamming a newspaper down on the table with enough force that it rattles. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at, eh?” he growls, glowering at me.

I glance down at the paper, barely able to stomach whatever he’s going on about now.

A large, if blurry, picture of me smiling down at a small blonde fills the front page. Her face isn’t visible to the camera, but there’s a brunette hanging off my arm on my other side, and it’s clear that I’m surrounded by women. The headline glares up at me.

Sebastian Sterling-Knight Seen Partying with Multiple Women After Engagement Ring Purchase.