Page 97 of The Contract

And her eyes—hazel and burning with passion—tilt up to mine, like she’s daring me to push further.

Daring me to take what we both want.

I lean in.

I don’t care about her rules.

I don’t care about this fucking contract.

I just want her.

But just as my lips nearly brush against hers, she steps back.

“Damien.”

Her voice is full of breath, and I know it’s not all from our run.

“My rules.”

A muscle in my jaw tightens.

I exhale slowly, my fingers still gripping her waist, unwilling to let go just yet.

My thumb drags over her full bottom lip, watching as arousal washes over her at my touch.

My voice is gravelly, low.

“I’ve thought about breaking your fucking rules a dozen times tonight.”

Her breath catches, and for a second, I think she’ll let me.

That she’ll let me pull her in, kiss her the way I’ve wanted to since the moment I laid eyes on her at The Ledger.

Hell, since I woke up alone in my hotel suite.

But she doesn’t.

She forces herself to step away, clearing the space between us, and I see the effort it takes.

Elena keeps her beautiful eyes on me, and I wish I fucking knew what she was thinking.

I’m goddamn desperate for it.

Then—finally—“Good night, Damien.”

She turns, walking smoothly toward the door of the bungalow.

But just before she disappears inside, she hesitates.

Looking back at me over her shoulder, her expression softer now.

One hand rests on the doorframe, like she needs it to keep her from running back to me.

“Thank you . . . for telling me.”

She’s talking about my past. My parents.

Everything I told her tonight.

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