Page 9 of The Contract

Like walking sin.

My hand moves without thought, running up the silky lapel until I reach the part that is twisted, and I correct it.

“There.”

My voice is a near whisper, softened by his proximity.

“Perfect.”

He catches my wrist as I begin to lower my hand, stepping toward me and holding it against his chest.

“Stay with me.”

Three simple words.

No elaboration. No pleading.

His voice is low, steady—but there’sweightbehind it, something that makes my pulse stutter.

I should say no.

Ineedto say no.

But he doesn’t release my wrist.

Doesn’t pull me closer either.

He justholdsme there.

Against the warmth of his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath my palm.

I lift my gaze, meeting his.

AndGod help me.

The look in his eyes islethal.

A deep, quiet hunger.

Like he’s alreadyclaimedthis moment.

Already decided how this will end.

But he’swaiting.

Formeto decide.

A slow inhale drags through my lungs.

“I don’t?—”

His thumb brushes against the inside of my wrist, a touch so soft, so intimate, it robs me of thought.

“No expectations,” he murmurs, stopping my words in an instant. “No names,” he continues, his voice silk and steel, weaving effortlessly around me.

Temptation wrapped in control.

Just likehim.

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