Page 99 of Bid For Me
The whole place is ours. Four storeys including a basement and a rooftop terrace.
Elle freezes, her lips parting as she takes in the grand entrance hall. Warm, muted tones of cream and gold stretch upward to the high ceilings, accented by the subtle shimmer of antique fixtures. The air smells faintly of jasmine and vanilla – her favorite scent. The staircase curves elegantly, its banister smooth, the kind of woodwork that whispers refinement and permanence.
“You…” She looks around, her voice a breathless murmur. “You bought this?”
My silence answers for me. I don’t say a word, just watch her.
She moves further into the house, her fingers brushing over the edge of a console table adorned with fresh flowers. Her favourites.
Her eyes widen at the sight of the sitting room through the archway – a soft, inviting space filled with plush sofas, bookshelves lined with novels, and artwork that could’ve been plucked straight from her Pinterest boards.
“You didn’t…” She swallows, shaking her head as if she can’t quite believe it. “You didn’t have to do this.”
I step closer, my shoes silent against the polished floor. “Why?” My voice is low, a growl just beneath the surface. “Because you thought I’d stick you in some sleek, soulless bachelor pad? Is that what you imagined?”
Her cheeks flush, and she lowers her gaze, her fingers twisting together.
“I—”
“Spare me your gratitude,” I cut her off, my tone sharp, the anger from earlier clawing its way back to the surface. “You think this is for you? That I’m trying to win you over, Elle?”
She blinks, startled, her lips parting as though to protest, but nothing comes out.
I take a step closer, towering over her, and she instinctively presses back against the archway. I should stop. I should take a breath and let the heat simmer down. But I can’t.
Her betrayal is too much.
“You don’t understand, do you?” My hand braces against the wall beside her head, caging her in. “You’ve made me question everything – who you are, who I am – and I hate that. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you. About us.”
Her breath hitches, her gaze locking onto mine.
“And yet, here you are,” I say, my voice softer now, dangerously close to breaking. “Thanking me. Like I’m some fool who can be pacified by pretty words.”
“I’m not—” she begins, but the words die on her lips as I lean in.
“Don’t,” I growl, my free hand reaching for her waist. “Don’t try to twist this.”
I slam my lips against hers, raw and demanding, my frustration and need pouring into the kiss. Her gasp melts into a soft moan, her body arching into mine despite her earlier hesitations. My hand fists in the delicate fabric of her dress, pulling her closer, anchoring her against the solid weight of me.
She’s trembling beneath my touch, her hands splayed against my chest like she can’t decide whether to push me away or pull me closer.
For a moment, the world narrows to this – her warmth, her taste, the way she molds against me like she belongs there.
But this isn’t enough. Not nearly.
I pull back just enough to speak, my breath hot against her lips. “You’re mine, Elle. No matter how much you fight it. No matter how much you lie.”
Her eyes glisten, her chest heaving as she stares up at me, and for a split second, I see something that looks like surrender.
It only fuels the fire inside me.She knows I know. She’s busted.
Her breath catches as I press harder against her, pinning her fully to the door. My hand moves from her waist, trailing down her side until I find the hem of her dress. The silky fabric clings to her curves, but it’s no match for my determination.
I hike it up, inch by slow inch, never breaking the kiss. Her hands, still trembling, clutch at my jacket.
I don’t care.
“Seb,” she breathes against my lips, her voice barely a whisper.