Page 74 of My Big, Fat, Accidental Billionaire Husband

Her pupils dilate. “That was just physical.”

“Bullshit.” I’m close enough now to see her pulse racing at the base of her throat. “There’s something here. Something real. You feel it too.”

“What Ifeel,” she says shakily, “is that I’m trapped in an impossible situation with a man who thinks he can control everything and everyone around him.”

“I don’t want to control you,” I growl. “I want to understand what the fuck is happening between us.”

“Nothingis happening,” she insists, but her eyes drop to my mouth. “Nothingcanhappen.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re going to annul this marriage in two weeks,” she reminds me, her voice barely above a whisper. “Because this was never supposed to be real.”

I don’t know who moves first. Maybe we both do. One second we’re arguing and the next my mouth is on hers, hot and demanding. She gasps against my lips, her hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer even as she makes a sound of protest.

The kiss is nothing like I expected. It’s angry and desperate and achingly real. She arches into me and her mouth opens under mine, her tongue meeting mine with equal fervor. I back her against the nearest wall and she gasps again. I tangle one hand in her hair while the other grips her hip, anchoring her against me.

She tastes like coffee and possibility and complications I never wanted.

I couldn’t stop kissing her if my life depended on it.

Her hands slide up my chest, around my neck, fingers threading through my hair as she kisses me back with an intensity that matches my own.

This isn’t business.

This isn’t an arrangement.

This is pure, unfiltered need.

When I finally pull back, we’re both breathing hard. Her lips are swollen, her eyes wide with shock that probably mirrors my own.

“Fuck,” I mutter, stepping back. My heart hammers against my ribs. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

What just happened? What the hell am I doing?

“Dom,” she starts, her voice unsteady.

“I have a meeting,” I lie, desperate for escape, struggling to rebuild the walls. “I need to go.”

“Now?” Disbelief colors her tone. “On a Sunday? We need to talk about this. You can’t just kiss me and—”

“Later,” I promise, already backing toward the door. “We’ll figure this out later.”

I grab my jacket and keys, avoiding her eyes. “Don’t wait up.”

I’m in the elevator before I allow myself to breathe. I lean against the wall, closing my eyes.

“Shit,” I whisper to the empty elevator.

The kiss replays in my mind on an endless loop. Fuck. The heat of her mouth. The way she arched into me like she couldn’t get enough. The little sound she made when I pushed her against the wall.

I grip the elevator railing, trying to steady myself. I’m hard as steel just thinking about it. I was on the verge of carrying her straight to my bedroom, contract be damned.

But that’s exactly the problem, isn’t it?

Less than two fucking weeks left in our agreement. Then the annulment. The end.

That’s the plan I created. The deal I designed. The solution I forced on both of us.

---