Page 50 of The Contract

Except it isn’t a lesson anymore.

Before I can register it, he dips me back, the worldtilting, his body molded to mine.

His breath warms my skin as his nose drags along my collarbone, then up my neck.

Slow. Unhurried.

Like he’smemorizingme.

His voice is a whisper, dark and rough.

"I didn’t need a map of your body two nights ago, Trouble."

The nickname rolls off his tongueeffortlessly.

Like he’s been saying it foryears.

Like he didn’t mean to say it at all.

My breath catches. His does too.

For a fraction of a second, somethingpassesbetween us.

And I don’t know what the hell to do with it.

I don’t move.

Neither does he.

The room is too quiet.

Or maybe it’s justus.

Trapped in this moment, in thistensionthat coils so tight I can feel it like a tangible thing between us.

Damien’s grip on my waist is firm, his fingers pressing into the silk of my gown like he’s consideringsomething.

Like he’s debating whether to let go.

Or to hold on tighter.

He doesn’t blink.

Neither do I.

I feel his breath, warm against my skin. His body, impossibly close.

I should step back.

Ineedto step back.

But I don’t.

And neither does he.

Not until his gaze drops—to my mouth.

A slow, calculated flick of his eyes.

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