Page 78 of Bid For Me
“Thank you,” I whisper, the words barely audible.
Seb’s lips curve into a small, tender smile as he helps me to my feet. “Anytime, Elle.”
I excuse myself to use the bathroom, washing my hands and teeth and unclipping my hair to brush it out. When I’m done, Seb is at the door, guiding me toward the bed with a quiet patience that makes my chest ache.
“I grabbed some pyjamas for you,” he tells me softly, pointing to the folded pile of satin on the end of the bed. I grimace.
“Thank you.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I just…nothing. Thank you. That was really kind.”
“Elle, tell me,” he insists.
“I just want to sleep in a T-shirt,” I sigh wistfully.
“Here.”
Before I can stop him, he reaches behind his head and pulls his white shirt off in one smooth motion that makes my mouth water. Maybe it’s the alcohol or hormones or something, or maybe it’s just Seb – but the sight of him standing there, bare chested and confident, sends a shiver down my spine. The dim light plays across the hard lines of his chest and the faint smattering of dark hair that disappears beneath his waistband. I’m staring, and I know it, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
“Here,” he says again, holding out the shirt to me like it’s no big deal.
I blink, dragging my gaze back to his face. He’s watching me, a flicker of amusement in his eyes, but he doesn’t comment on my obvious ogling. I swallow hard, taking the shirt from his outstretched hand. The fabric is soft, still warm from his body, and it smells like him – clean, masculine, with a hint of something deeper that’s uniquely Seb.
“Thanks,” I mumble, clutching the shirt to my chest like it’s a lifeline.
He steps back, giving me space, and I quickly turn my back to him, slipping out of my outfit and into the oversized shirt. It falls to mid-thigh, the hem brushing against my skin in a way that feels...intimate. Too intimate.
When I turn back around, Seb is still standing there but in just his boxers now, his eyes flicking over me briefly before he averts his gaze, giving me privacy without making it awkward. I manage to do no such thing,drinkinghim in like I’m parched.
“Better?” he asks, his voice low.
“Much,” I admit, managing a small smile.
He nods, grabbing the satin pyjamas he’d originally picked out and setting them on a nearby chair. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” he says, gesturing toward the plush loveseat near the window.
I frown. “You don’t have to?—”
“It’s fine,” he cuts me off gently but firmly. “You need rest, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
He starts to move toward the couch, but something in me rebels at the thought of him being so far away. It’s irrational, I know, but the idea of him sitting there, alone, while I lie in the massive bed feels wrong.
“Seb,” I say, my voice stopping him in his tracks.
He turns to look at me, his brow furrowing slightly. “Yeah?”
“Stay.” The word slips out before I can overthink it, and my chest tightens as I watch his expression shift from surprise to something softer, more cautious.
“I don’t think?—”
“Stay with me,” I say again, stronger this time, stepping closer to him. “Here. In the bed. Beside me.”
His jaw tightens, a muscle ticking as he searches my face, clearly conflicted. “Elle, I don’t want to cross any lines?—”
“You won’t,” I interrupt, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “Please, Seb. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
His hesitation lasts only a moment longer before he nods, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Okay,” he says softly.