Filed to story: Watch Out, I’m The Lady Boss (Eleanor & Sebastian) Book PDF Free
He stared at the time again.
So she was dodging the rehearsal?
Fine.
But there was another possibility.
A worse one.
Had she found out about the lie?
There was no cousin.
No tragic tale of the poor bloke dragging his hired girlfriend to a family Christmas dinner.
That was a story concocted entirely for Eleanor’s benefit.
But she had no links to his family.
No way she could’ve found out.
This sudden night out was more likely just her way of saying no to the kiss.
But no, Sebastian wasn’t going to let her off the hook that easily, not after the kind of night he’d had.
He hadn’t slept.
Not properly.
Every time he closed his eyes, it was like being sucked back into that sofa.
Her breath warm against his chest.
Her laugh pressed under his skin.
Her legs tangled with his like they had every fucking right to be there.
In his dream, it didn’t stop there.
First the sofa.
Then his bed.
Then the hotel room-the one he hadn’t told her he’d bought after that night.
Dream-Eleanor was straddling him again, like that night.
That single, scorching night she’d taken the lead and made him forget his own damn name.
But Dream-Sebastian flipped her under him, just as fast.
She wrapped her arms around his back, gasped his name, pulled him closer like she didn’t want him to leave.
And in the dream, he didn’t.
He drove himself into her like he had no brakes, and she clung on like she wanted him to ruin her.
He woke up pissed off and hard.
The duvet got kicked to the floor.
Sweat glued his skin to the sheets.
Two glasses of freezing water did nothing to cool him down.
He ended up in the kitchen, shirtless, hair a wreck, glaring at the marble counter like it owed him an apology.
Still hard.
Still furious.
Still thinking about her.
If he wasn’t going to get peace, then neither was she.
Sebastian called the bar.
The Cider & Smoke was closing early tonight-health code violation, staff emergency, gas leak; the manager could pick a story. Sebastian didn’t care.
He just wanted her out of there.
Thirty minutes later, he heard the crunch of tyres on gravel.
Geoffrey poked his head into the living room.
“Mr Laurent? Mrs Laurent’s back. Talking to the driver. Should be inside any second.”
“Mm.” Sebastian didn’t glance up.
His eyes stayed on the tablet.
One hand flicked the screen like he was reading something important.
He wasn’t.
He’d been scrolling the same page for the last twenty minutes.
But Geoffrey wasn’t stupid.
He saw the way Sebastian sat up straighter.
The way his fingers smoothed the wrinkle out of his shirt like he hadn’t been sitting there all night, simmering in silence.
The shift was small.
But it was there.
Geoffrey said nothing.
He just slipped away, because he wasn’t an idiot.
I walked in a minute later, tipsy, still giggling at some dumb meme Yvalne had just sent me.
Something about a guy trying to deep-throat a corn dog and nearly dying for it-quality content.
I didn’t think Sebastian would still be awake.
Definitely didn’t think he’d be sitting dead centre in the living room like some kind of final boss, staring straight at the door.
Our eyes met.
Shit.
My grin froze.
I snapped the phone shut too hard and wobbled sideways, pressing my fingers to my temples.
“Drank way too much,” I mumbled.
“Gonna crash. Nightttt…”I staggered like my knees had melted, clinging to the bannister like it owed me rent.
Giving him a wide berth, I dragged my feet up the stairs, feeling his stare right up my spine.
Don’t look back.
Don’t trip.
Don’t break character.
The second I made it to the bedroom, I shut the door behind me like I’d just outrun a serial killer.
I jumped straight into the shower and let the water blast me.
“Damn it.” I thudded my forehead against the ceramic tile, while a mental porno featuring Sebastian played on loop.
Thanks, Yvaine.
We’d met up earlier and she picked up right where she left off at her birthday, like time hadn’t passed.
Apparently, my “married life” was now her favourite drama.
She grilled me like I was on trial for Crimes Against Horniness, cross-examining me over every single sexless second I’d spent under the same roof as Sebastian.
I told her we hadn’t slept together.
Well. Not since that one time in the hotel room, pre-fake-marriage, pre-everything.
So technically, it didn’t count. Right?
She gave me a look like I’d just told her I enjoyed beige wallpaper and abstinence.
“What the hell’s wrong with you? You sleep next to that and don’t tap it? Where’s your libido? Menopause hit early or what?”.
“I don’t sleep next to him,” I corrected her.
“And my libido’s doing just fine, thanks.”She rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, clearly. That’s why you’re living with a guy who looks like sin on legs and not riding him like a stolen bike. I’d be on him every morning before coffee and again after dinner, just for the cardio.”
“I’m not you, Yvaine. And it’s all fake, remember?”
“Fake marriage doesn’t mean fake orgasms. If you met him under normal circumstances, you’d have nailed him, admit it.”
“Yeah, I would.”And, technically, I had So what’s stopping you now?”