Page 136 of The Contract

Two knocks followed by the door opening rip the intensity of the moment away.

I yank my hand back, stepping away just as Marcus and James stroll in, wearing matching Giants jerseys with bold lettering across the back:

MR. & MR. LANGSTON.

My body tenses instantly, and my face burns.

Damien is all cocky grins and boasting chest as he shrugs out of his shirt entirely, pulling it from his arms with smooth, easy confidence—like this moment wasn’t just teetering on the edge of something reckless.

Like my hand wasn’t about to graze over his cock to see if he was hard for me.

Like I wasn’t going to sink down to my knees and swallow every inch of Damien Wolfe’s infamous control.

James raises a brow, grinning like he just walked into something extremely interesting.

“Are we interrupting?”

“No.” I clear my throat.

“Yes,” Damien counters at the same time, his smirk downright sinful.

I shoot him a glare, but he just leans casually against the desk with a shrug, utterly unbothered.

James gives me a knowing look. “Mmm.”

Marcus, ever the gentleman, steps forward, handing me a gift box. “From Mrs. Calloway.”

Thank God for Marcus.

I take the box, eager for a distraction, but I can still feel Damien’s gaze on me, watching as I lift the lid.

Inside, folded neatly, are two jerseys. One in Damien’s size and one in mine.

I pick mine up, turning it over, and my breath catches.

FUTURE MRS. WOLFE.

My stomach drops.

It’s just a gift. A party favor. A costume for the night.

But somehow, seeing it written out—bold and clear—makes something in my chest squeeze.

My eyes lift—instinctively—to Damien.

He’s staring at the jersey, then at me.

And fuck, his expression…

There’s something behind it, something raw. Dark. Like the words on the jersey aren’t a joke to him at all.

His lips part slightly, like he has something to say, but he doesn’t speak. He just watches me, watches the way I’m holding the jersey, how I haven’t put it down.

James is the one to break the silence. “Mrs. Calloway insisted. She thinks it’ll be a nice touch. A little… couples-themed apparel for her birthday boy.”

I barely register his words, still caught in the heat of Damien’s gaze.

It’s just a jersey.

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