Page 24 of Her Possessive Dominant Fake Husband

It was too dangerous a line of thinking.

"I admire you," I said, my voice rough, unfamiliar. "The way you find joy in everything."

Claire stilled, and for a moment, everything else did too. "Alexander," she whispered, sending a shiver through me that I refused to acknowledge.

"Don’t," I said, voice low and edged with need.

"Why?" she breathed, inching closer, her warmth drawing me in like a gravitational pull.

I glanced at her, ready to remind her that the contract—

Her lips met mine, sweet and explosive all at once. I felt her urgency, the same urgency that drove me to wrap my arms around her, pulling her into my lap in a way we had no business being. A smart man would have stopped. Clearly, I wasn’t a smart man.

Her lips were soft, but responding with a fire that matched my own. We were a tangle of contradictions—heat and cold, sweetness and desire—and she was matching me, beat for beat. She moved against me, her body arching, and I lost whatever pretense of control I thought I had.

Claire’s hands found their way to my hair, her fingers raking through in a way that sent jolts of need racing through me. This wasn’t supposed to happen. And yet, the way she kissed me back made me think maybe it was inevitable. I gripped her waist, meaning to steady her, but the touch ignited something deeper, pulling us closer than I thought possible.

She was straddling me on the couch in the cabin, a fire at her back and one before her, yet somehow, it all felt right, no matter how hard I tried to remind myself this was wrong.

When we finally pulled apart, gasping for breath and clarity, the night seemed impossibly silent around us. I watched her, saw the change in her eyes, knew she was scrambling for control just like me.

Claire’s lips were red, her breathing uneven. I wanted to pull her back in, to never let her go, but I couldn’t. I shouldn’t.

"I didn’t mean for that..." I said, words tumbling over the chaos of my thoughts.

She caught my face in her hands, silencing me. "Don’t," she said again, but this time it wasn’t a plea; it was a challenge, a refusal to let me retreat behind the walls I’d built.

She kissed me again, softer but no less consuming. I let her lead, undeniably desiring her – my body was surely giving that away, if she even understood what that meant – and she felt the same way. I knew by the way her lips lingered, in the way my heart slammed against my ribcage like it was trying to break free.

This was against the rules, it was stupid, it was reckless. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to push her away, to shut her down, to hurt her with rejection. And honestly, I didn’t want to.

She finally pulled back, her eyes locked on mine. Her warmth seeped into my clothing, my skin, my bones. I didn’t understand how I’d gotten here, how I’d let this happen, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret it or stop.

Not with the way she looked at me.

Damn it, I should have known better.

Chapter Seven

Claire

One week later

I woke up on my birthday expecting a call from my mom and brother wishing me a happy birthday.

I was wrong.

Alexander clearly had plans.

The thing was, he wasn’t supposed to actually notice me. Not at our wedding, and definitely not enough to care. My fingers trembled over the piano keys, not yet playing. He must have seen the confusion in my eyes because his lips curled into the hint of a smile.

I watched his hands move, tinkling out a haunting melody before low notes crept in. The music settled in my chest, rattling the parts I thought were safely still. I didn’t understand this side of him—generous, perceptive, warm—but maybe I didn’t need to. Not right now. The night stretched in front of me, full of promises I’d never let myself want. "Happy birthday, Claire," he whispered.

It was absurd, but my breath caught. A tidal rush of emotions hit me, and I scrambled to hide it behind a shaky laugh. I was Claire Reed, eldest daughter, selfless and sacrificial.Happy birthdays weren’t my style. My gaze drifted back to the piano. "You’re full of surprises, Alexander," I said, aiming for casual, though my voice betrayed more.

"You haven’t even heard it yet," he replied, settling beside me.

The brush of his shoulder was warm, sending a traitorous flutter through me. I focused on the keys, as if pressing the smooth, cool ivory could tether me back to reality.

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