Under Pressure (No Pressure, No Diamonds Book 1)

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Under Pressure (No Pressure, No Diamonds Book 1) Page 12

by Kara Greenan


  Instead of letting go, Sebastian swings one arm around London's middle and starts to sway to the beat. His thigh slides between London's legs practically of its own accord and London has to press his eyes shut or risk letting all his friends know just how much this is getting to him. Sebastian slips his hand down London's back, slides it slowly over the curve of his arse and pulls him forward roughly. London doesn't moan, but he bites his lip, practically straddling Sebastian's thigh. His gaze darts to where his friends are still dancing, oblivious.

  “They wouldn’t mind,” Sebastian murmurs into his ear, nuzzling close.

  He holds out his watch and when London takes it, he raises his wrist.

  “Please?” London knows he’s not asking him for help securing the watch.

  Sebastian is asking for so much more. All London can do is slip the watch over Sebastian's wrist and fasten it.

  "Thanks," Sebastian murmurs in his ear, pushing their crotches together and panting helplessly against London’s neck.

  "Didn't know it was from your mum," London says, lips sliding along Sebastian's neck.

  “I know. It’s okay, you gave it back.”

  London curls in against Sebastian’s chest in a cheap trick to avoid his eyes. He feels like he’s falling, spiralling, and it takes care of that itch under his skin. It’s a similar feeling to what he experiences when he breaks into a place, everything quiet and every last fiber of his being concentrated on the task. People don’t usually evoke that reaction but, and he realises this with a start, Sebastian has been able to since the very beginning.

  “I think I understand now,” he murmurs, so quietly he’s surprised Sebastian even hears.

  “Understand what?”

  What people mean when they say they’re addicted to someone.

  He can’t say it out loud of course. He doesn’t have to, because thankfully a loud crash interrupts them.

  One of the boxes with diamonds inside has fallen onto the floor when the others knocked into it while dancing.

  The next second, London has wiggled free from Sebastian, crouching on the floor and picking up all six diamonds carefully, as if they might break.

  “Well that was rude," Sebastian mutters, holding his hand in front of his crotch surreptitiously.

  London shoots him a dark look while depositing the stones back on the table.

  “Have you seen these diamonds?" London asks tetchy, the realisation he’s just had adding to his bad mood. "They’re gorgeous. Of course I won't let them lie on the floor.”

  “What’s your deal with diamonds, anyway? You don’t seem like the type.”

  London's eyes narrow and he takes an unconscious step back. Away from Sebastian and closer to his friends, who've mostly stopped dancing now.

  “What type?”

  Sebastian flaps his hand about.

  “The type to gift them to others,” Amelia interjects, shooting daggers at Sebastian while gently patting London's arm.

  Sebastian pouts. London knows he isn’t used to this, to people disliking him even though he’s trying his best to be charming and likeable. Of course London has told them about Sebastian beforehand, so that would colour their perception of him.

  “Oh,” London says, taking a wobbly step towards his beer, further. “Yeah that’s true.” He brings the bottle to his lips, his gaze off in the distance. Then he beams, because fuck if he doesn’t love diamonds. “Do you know what you can do with diamonds?”

  “Sell them?” Sebastian ventures, taking a step closer.

  “No! Sell –” London looks at him and pouts. “Yes, sell them.”

  “And then?”

  “Then you have money.”

  “You do this for the money?”

  London's stare becomes more incredulous. “No? Who cares about money? But do you know what you can buy with money?”

  Amelia giggles and drags Hale to the dartboard, not bothering to remove his hand from her hip. Frankie is no help either, smiling down at the photos on her phone, like she’d been doing for the past hour, still swaying gently.

  “Um,” Sebastian begins, grabbing his bottle and fiddling with the edge of the label. “Stuff?”

  London looks at him. He’s drunker than he though. His face breaks into a wide grin and he stumbles forward, hands on Sebastian’s chest. “Yes,” he says excitedly. “Exactly!”

  And it feels good, touching Sebastian like this, looking up at him with his entire body acting like a furnace. Sebastian pulls him closer, sways them to the soft music again. There's less grinding, which doesn’t make it any less fun than before. And London goes with it easily, like they do this all the time. He curls himself closer, head resting on Sebastian’s shoulder and fingers playing with Sebastian’s shirt. He pulls on the fabric until one of Sebastian’s nipples is exposed, which admittedly doesn’t take much.

  “You know,” Sebastian says lowly, steering them back into the corner, away from the others. “I got the nipple piercings because it made sense. Got sensitive nipples, haven’t I? And people tend to want to play with piercings. Win, win.”

  London flicks the little barbell, watches the nipple around it pebble up. Sebastian’s right, he wants to play with it. Bite it. Suck it.

  Under the guise of the music, he turns London’s back to the wall and slips his hand down the back of his trousers. “I could get a piercing with a diamond.”

  London groans, pushing almost roughly at the little barbell, watching it stretch the skin. Sebastian’s mouth drops open as he pants and London can clearly feel his dick twitch against his hip. They probably wouldn’t survive a diamond piercing.

  "Are you planning on getting other piercings?" London asks softly.

  Sebastian shrugs. "Not my face. Can’t con people with such an obvious thing to remember me by. Plus too many preconceived notions."

  London's expression turns mischievous and he slides his palm down the front of Sebastian's shirt until he's cupping the obvious bulge in his trousers.

  "I wasn't thinking of your face."

  "You're asking me if I'm planning on getting my dick pierced?" he asks, somewhat incredulously.

  London doesn't say anything, just stares at where his fingers are tracing the head of Sebastian's cock through the fabric, right where the piercing would be.

  “I’m definitely considering it now,” Sebastian chokes out, pressing more firmly against his palm. “Especially if the mere idea of it gets you this focused on my dick.”

  Like he isn’t generally interested in Sebastian’s dick. He can’t help himself, likes pretty things after all. He doesn’t say that, feels it would be too real if he said it out loud.

  “I'm going to go home,” Frankie says suddenly.

  They both start, and London snatches his hand back, slightly appalled at finding himself touching Sebastian’s cock only moments after realising he’s like an addiction. Flooding his senses with nothing but Sebastian is definitely not how to get over him.

  London tries to ignore the tingle of Sebastian’s hand, still halfway down his trousers, the ache in his own dick.

  “I like breaking into people’s houses,” London says out loud, trying to distract himself.

  Sebastian laughs, finally removing his hand from his bum and sliding it up his back. “That’s a bit random.”

  “We're leaving for Paris the day after tomorrow,” Frankie warns. "No breaking in while drunk, I don't have time to bail you out of jail."

  Frankie gets up, and somehow it’s a signal for everyone to start packing up. “Hale, you got the flights?”

  “I can do that tomorrow.”

  “Then it’s settled.” Frankie says, stuffing her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. “Have a good night, and I’ll see you tomorrow. At eleven sharp.”

  London thinks he’s in the clear when Sebastian’s hand reaches out. His fingers burn into the skin around his wrist and yet he has to fight off a shiver.

  “Come home with me?”

  Yes.

 
; God, he wants to so badly; he wants another stolen moment, one that doesn’t affect the future and isn’t based on their past. He just wants Sebastian. But it’s a terrible, terrible idea. If he gives in every time, where will that leave him? Where will it leave his heart, his sanity? He takes a quick step back, his shoulders connecting with the wall. Sebastian steps in closer, hands landing on London's hips, fingers worming their way between shirt and trousers to stroke the sensitive skin there.

  “I hate hotels,” London says and it’s true, he can’t stand them, especially in connection with Sebastian.

  Sebastian leans in closer and bends his head, his mouth connecting with London's neck. The kiss is soft, sweet even.

  “Or I can come to yours again,” he whispers.

  One moment Sebastian has him backed against the wall, shivering under his touch, and the next moment London is already half way to the door.

  “Can’t,” he says over his shoulder without actually looking at Sebastian. He reaches Amelia who is still waiting, her eyes narrowed like maybe she needs to step in. He takes her hand, his knuckles turning white at the tightness of his grip.

  “Come on,” she says to him, her eyes still trained on Sebastian. “You can stay at mine.”

  London nods and follows her outside. He isn’t at all sure if he could walk away on his own. “Thanks.”

  “That’s okay, hon. You just make sure you decide what you need, yeah? I’m always here to talk.”

  “Thanks,” he says again and it sounds empty. He isn’t good at this, at asking for help, or accepting it when it’s freely given. But he goes through the motions, faking it until it feels real.

  He wonders if Sebastian got caught outside, maybe waiting for his Uber, when the sky opens up a few minutes later. He wonders if he goes home soaking wet, if he goes home at all. Maybe he isn’t caught in the downpour, maybe he decides to go out. Maybe he decides to take someone to his hotel room after all - someone who isn’t London. That would be a good thing, right, for Sebastian to move on? Then why, London asks himself as he gets into the lift to Amelia’s loft apartment, does he feel like crying?

  Venice, almost a year ago

  “Just trust me,” Sebastian says, shoving his hands through London’s hair so it looks even more disheveled than it already is. He’d insisted London keep wearing his mask, even though his own is packed away in London’s backpack. “And act like, well, act like you’re really into me, hang off my arm, that sort of thing.”

  “Bring a lot of arm candy here, do you?”

  Sebastian smiles. “None as pretty as you.”

  He dodges London’s swat before he ties his hair in a bun, smooths down his clothes and retrieves a pair of reading glasses from his coat pocket, which he pushes onto his nose. London watches him closely as he changes from Sebastian Walker into Sebastian Ford. Gone are the relaxed and quick-to-smile features, replaced by a haughty expression that’s been instilled in him since birth. It’s not hard, not really, but he finds he doesn’t have the time for standoffishness. Not when London is this close to his hotel room, not when he’s still half hard, hiding that fact by virtue of carrying his jacket slung over his arm. After all, London probably thinks of Ford as another persona.

  London takes another peek at the side of the hotel. “Quite swanky, isn’t it?”

  Sebastian pops a chewing gum into his mouth and slings his arm over London's shoulders, pulling him close. “Wait until you see the inside.”

  He doesn’t ask London if he’s ready, just drags him to the front entrance. Bringing someone home with him isn’t completely out of character for the persona he’s cultivated here: his real persona. Either way, it shouldn’t cause too much of a stir. And if they have to lie low, then they may as well do it in comfort and style. The doorman opens the door for them, nodding so deep it’s almost a bow.

  Just inside the atrium a huge, ornate staircase draws the eye. Out of his peripheral vision he watches the concierge straighten up, already reaching for his room key. They’d been flirting rather shamelessly, or as much as a concierge can without being unprofessional. There’s a pang of regret, because he’s a nice guy and Sebastian might have gotten his hopes up. His smile hardly slips when his gaze travels to London. It’s not like his reputation doesn’t include a multitude of partners.

  “Mr. Ford, I trust you enjoyed your evening out?”

  Sebastian nods, taking care to reign in the friendly openness he’s so easily displayed with the crew. “Is my room ready?”

  “Everything you requested this morning has been acquired and brought up to your room, sir.”

  “Very well,” Sebastian says dismissively, dragging London towards the lift. Usually he’d give him the grand tour via the stairs, but he’s palming his arse before the doors even close properly.

  “What the fuck?”

  “Sorry,” Sebastian says in a voice far more his own yet not moving his hands. “It’s just this persona I have set up here. He’s a bit of an arsehole. Though the bum grabbing is all me.”

  He reaches up to remove his spectacles and loosen his hair again, all the while watching London watch him.

  “It’s kind of hot. Either way, I mean.”

  Sebastian can’t help but smile. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew Mr. Ford. He’s a spoiled rich kid bored with life because whatever he wants he can buy.” He pushes London back against the mirrored wall, leaning in for a deep kiss.

  The hallway is empty, the thick carpet absorbing their sounds. He knows showing London where he lives, a long-term rent with three rooms, will probably be handing him too much ammunition, too much knowledge about his real life - arguably, his real life should be the one he gives his attention to. Clearly that is not being Sebastian Ford, even if it’s the name he was given at birth. Regardless of the fact that he’s letting someone get close to him in a way he hasn’t allowed in years, he opens the door and leads him inside. There are several parcels stacked on the entrance table, along a note on hotel stationery for Mr. Ford’s attention. While letting London snoop around a bit, he heads to the bedroom to store the David in the safe inside his closet.

  “Those aren’t impossible to crack, you know?”

  Sebastian starts, whipping his head around. London is casually leaning against the doorframe, mask no longer on his face, his eyes slowly travelling back up to Sebastian’s face.

  “Were you checking out my arse?”

  London shrugs. “Yes.”

  He slams closed the safe and practically drags London out of the room, dropping his own mask to the floor before letting the door fall closed behind them.

  “Where’re we going?” London asks as Sebastian leans his head against the smooth wood for just a moment, collecting himself.

  “Food,” Sebastian says, voice strained.

  “Food? Now?”

  Sebastian nods resolutely, grabbing London's hand and pulling him back towards the lifts. “If we don’t leave now, I don’t think I can make us leave again.”

  London doesn’t say anything to that, he even stays quiet as they head for the rooftop terrace, Sebastian stabbing the lift button labeled Restaurant much harder than is really necessary. They stare at each other throughout the short ride, the air between them charged with white-hot tension.

  The terrace is gorgeously lit with orange-yellow lights strung along the delicate banisters. It’s past midnight and there’s only one other table occupied. No one bats an eye when Sebastian steers London towards a table in the far corner, with a beautiful view of the wide canal below.

  They both stare out over the glittering wather, their hands just touching on the banister. Eventually London turns, eyes sweeping over the sea of tables. “Honestly? We’re getting food now?”

  “Yeah,” Sebastian murmurs into his ear, stepping closer. “Told you I’d wine and dine you properly. And I have already eaten you out. So now I’m taking you out eating.”

  London groans, pretends to turn away but really just rolls into Sebastian’s che
st to look up at him. “I have to go. Got a thing. Far away from bad puns.”

  Sebastian laughs easily, pulls him closer by slinging his arm around London's shoulder. “Just admit it now. You think I’m funny. Also, you really liked being eaten out. I was scared you’d fall over that ledge.”

  “Oh, please,” London scoffs. “My balance is perfect.”

  Sebastian curls his lower body closer, still grinning like a fool. “We should test that theory.”

  Before his mind can stray too far down that path, London disappears from under his arm to sit down at the closest table. The waiter has already left the menu, deciding on discretion instead of interrupting them. Sebastian sits down opposite him, watches London while he studies the food choices, his own menu lying forgotten on the tabletop.

  “Your staring is creepy,” London tells him, without looking up.

  Sebastian jolts. Usually his actions are done to inspire certain reactions, but right then he genuinely got caught. He collects himself. “Can’t really be helped. You’re rather nice to look at.”

  London shoots him a look over the edge of his menu. It’s guarded, that’s all he can read, even though he knows there’s something he’s missing.

  “So.” London clears his throat. “How did Will find you?”

  “Isn’t it like, an unspoken rule to never ask that kind of thing?”

  London waves a dismissive hand. “It’s not like I’m asking you what got you started. And anyway, breaking rules is half the fun.”

  Sebastian settles back into his chair, looking out over the dark water for a long moment. It’s cool up here thanks to the slight breeze, but the heat from the day still lingers and it’s more of a respite than anything else.

  “I met him on another job. We didn’t really hit it off, but we do have a mutual respect for each other’s work.”

  “And here I thought you get along with everyone.”

  Sebastian smiles and shrugs. He does, but sometimes people get mistrustful. It’s something he doesn’t really want London to be thinking about. “What about you?”

 

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