Page 76 of Hate To Be Mine

I was the insurance rep. He was the billionaire model. I wore pantsuits and read safety manuals. He dated actresses and attended galas. My father would lose his mind if he knew. The company would fire me. Everything I’d worked for would be gone.

And for what? For a man who’d never done serious relationships?

Even if he wanted to try—which was a massive if—how long would it last? A few weeks? A couple months? Until he got bored or I got too needy or reality crashed in and reminded us why we couldn’t work?

I needed to leave. Needed space to think. I had to figure out what the hell I was going to do.

“I should go,” I said, pulling away from him.

Sebastian’s arm tightened around me. “Stay. Just for a little while.”

“I can’t. Annika will wonder where I am. And I need to… I have things to prepare for tomorrow.”

It was a lie and we both knew it.

He released me. I could feel him watching as I gathered my clothes and got dressed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said quickly, not looking at him. “For the shoot. The Venus thing.”

“We should talk.”

“No.” I finally looked into his eyes. The hurt I saw there almost made me stay and say damn the consequences.

But I couldn’t.

I left his bungalow and practically ran back to mine with my mind racing.

27

SEBASTIAN

Isat in my bungalow for maybe ten minutes after Bernadette left, staring at the ceiling and feeling like I’d just been punched in the chest.

Something had shifted tonight. I’d felt it in the way she’d touched me. The way she looked at me. I had no doubt in my mind she had been more honest with me in those minutes I was buried inside her than she ever had with anyone else.

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but when she made a noise that was just a little loud, I saw the panic. And then I kissed her.

I needed her to know she could say and do anything. I wanted her in the moment with zero filters. I didn’t want her to hold back. And she didn’t.

I smiled as I replayed her yelling my name. I didn’t think she even realized how loud she had been. Good. I was glad she felt like she could be the little vixen she was at heart. It told me there was a chance.

But then she’d pulled away, shut down, and run. And I had no idea what to do about it.

I couldn’t sleep. I should be able to, given the fabulous orgasm I just had. But I couldn’t sit still. My body was restless, my mind racing, and I was starving. I had worked up an appetite.

Craft services had a tent at the resort that was always accessible. Everyone kept their own hours. I wasn’t going to deny anyone a midnight snack. And I suspected some of the models ate when no one was looking. Like the calories didn’t count if there weren’t any witnesses.

With a crew this size, late-night cravings, anxious producers, and models with insomnia were to be expected.

I walked through the quiet resort, the path lit only by solar lights and moonlight. Most of the crew had gone to bed hours ago. The only sounds were the ocean and the night birds. The tent was mostly dark when I approached, but I could see a faint light inside. Someone had beaten me to the midnight snack run.

I walked through the tent flap and stepped inside, then stopped short. Elizabeth sat at one of the small tables, illuminated by a battery-powered lantern. And she was eating pickles? And ice cream? She’d made a bowl of vanilla ice cream and was methodically dipping pickle spears into it before eating them.

“Oh my God,” I said.

She looked up, eyes wide, a pickle-ice-cream combo halfway to her mouth. “Sebastian. What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here? Is that pickles and ice cream?”