Page 128 of The Contract

The word is more breath than sound, more reverence than control.

Her breasts are full, round, perfect. The soft light catches on her skin, illuminating the peaks of her nipples, already taut,begging for attention. I watch as a wave of goosebumps rolls down her body—a clear sign of the emotions raging within her.

The ones she is so carefully trying to hide.

I reach for the plate, gathering another smear of dark chocolate cheesecake onto my finger.

Her breath hitches as I bring it to her skin, circling her nipple with the rich, decadent dessert, spreading it in slow, teasing strokes.

She lets out a soft, broken sound, her body arching ever so slightly toward me.

“Answer me, baby.”

My lips hover just beneath her ear, my voice a whisper of control and hunger, a thread away from snapping.

“Is eating dessert against your rules?”

Her breath is shaky, her fingers twitching where she grips my shirt.

Then, finally—finally—she exhales a long, trembling sigh and shakes her head.

“No.”

One word.

One simple word, and it’s like she’s granted me the keys to heaven.

“It’s not against the rules.” She’s fucking panting for me.

I don’t waste a second.

My tongue drags a slow, torturous circle around the hard peak of her breast, the lingering taste of dark chocolate and espresso blending with the warm, addictive sweetness of her skin.

She moans loudly, arching into my touch, her hands clutching at my shoulders, seeking something to ground her.

I run my thumbs beneath the soft weight of her breasts, remembering how they felt in my hands that night in the hotel. How they filled my palms, how she trembled beneath me.

Another slow swipe of cheesecake across her other breast. Another moan as she shudders under the sensation.

I need more.

Both hands find her thighs, squeezing, caressing, before sliding around to grasp her hips.

In one swift movement, I lift her, setting her onto the cool surface of the piano.

Her thighs press the keys.

The shift sends a discordant ripple of notes into the air, a soft, haunting melody beneath the sharp hitch of her breath.

A gasp leaves her lips, her fingers tightening in my hair, her legs instinctively parting just enough for me to step between them.

My mouth finds her skin again, tongue flicking over her nipple before sucking it between my lips, savoring the way she writhes against me.

The sounds she makes—the soft, breathy moans, the way my name leaves her lips in a quiet plea—send fire through my veins.

I rise, pressing my forehead against hers, breathing her in, letting the heat between us coil tighter, heavier.

She’s watching me, her hazel eyes glazed, her lips parted. That beautiful flush has spread down her chest, her body betraying the restraint she’s still desperately trying to hold onto.

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