Page 52 of The Contract

Not until I exhale and force my shoulders back, schooling my expression into something smooth.

Somethinguntouched.

Becausethat—whatever just happened—was nothing.

Ithadto be nothing.

And I refuse to let it become anything else.

Istorm down the hall, tension rolling off me in waves, my pulse a violent drumbeat in my ears.

My hands flex at my sides, aching to grab something.

Totouchher.

Topullher back into my arms and finish what she started in the living room.

Behind me, I hear her—soft footfalls, the click of her heels as she finally retreats to her own room.

I exhale hard, shoving a hand through my hair as I step into my bedroom and slam the door shut behind me.

A whisper of ambient light intrudes on the darkness.

It’s quiet.

But it doesnothingto ease the storm in my chest.

My jacket is the first to go, hurled at the closet wall. It slides down in a heap. I don’t care.

Next is my tie. I yank it loose with a sharp pull, the silk sliding over my fingers before I fling it aside.

But it doesn’t help.

I can stillfeelher—the warmth of her skin against mine, the way her scent wrapped around me, heady and sweet.

I rip open the buttons of my shirt, my breath heavy, my chest rising and falling as cool air finally touches my overheated skin.

I sit down hard on the edge of the bed, my head dropping into my hands as I drag in a breath that does nothing to steady me.

How the fuck am I supposed to survive two weeks of this?

Herproximity.

Her body wrapped in fine silks that were made toworshipher.

Those little gasps she makes when I catch her off guard.

The way her pulse flutters in her throat when I get too close.

She’s intoxicating.

Infuriating.

And my cock is hard asfucking marble.

I drag my palms down my face and groan.

I should have never agreed to this contract.

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