Page 52 of Her Possessive Dominant Fake Husband

I loved Alexander Reed. My husband. The man taking my innocence and everything else I’d been afraid to give. Screw the contract. Screw the risk. I wanted him for real, and I didn’t care how much it would hurt when he didn’t want me back.

He gasped, a deep, guttural sound, and thrust one last time, holding, filling me in every possible way.

“God, Claire,” he said, collapsing against me, his skin slick with sweat, his chest heaving against mine.

We lay there, entangled, breathless, and I knew the next words would crush me. I was ready to hear them, already rehearsing my own exit. But they didn’t come. Instead:

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.

“Yes,” I said, shocked by the honesty of it. I was. I really was.

But he rolled off me anyway, on his side, looking at me like he couldn’t believe what he saw.

The heat in my face betrayed me, and the rest of reality crashed back in. But I refused to think this was a mistake.

Even if he did.

I shouldn’t have felt this way, wrapped in his warmth, wrapped in the illusion that this man loved me. Alexander's breath against my neck, the tight circle of his arms, the steady rise and fall of his chest—they all told a story I knew wasn’t true. But oh, how easily I let myself fall into it.

The warmth of his skin bled into me, an unfamiliar sense of safety and comfort, a dream that threatened to convince me. I closed my eyes, let myself sink into him, let my heart take over just once. We felt real.

I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so safe, so needed. It would have been easy to move, to shake off the warmth of him, the quiet of the room, to stop pretending. Instead, I let myself be wrapped in the softness of rest and the afterglow of mind-blowing sex, wrapped in him.

Blinking, I tried to remember where I was in the dark, why my skin felt so sensitive, why I felt heat beside me. Then warmth flooded my cheeks as it all came flooding back.

Alexander was still sleeping, his expression softer than I’d ever seen it, his body a dangerous comfort, a terrible temptation. I wanted him again. Was that normal?

And how was I supposed to leave? I laid there, taking in the impossibility of this man and this moment, knowing the longer I stayed, the more it would hurt when he finally let me go. It was so hard to move, his breathing steady against my neck, his arm heavy, binding me to him and to a fantasy I wanted too much. But I needed to slip away, without waking him. It was better this way. It had to be.

The sheets were warm, twisted around our bodies like a promise. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend. I could imagine waking him with a kiss, his eyes opening to see me, really see me.

But that wasn’t us. That wasn’t this.

I untangled myself, each movement precise and quiet, like dismantling a bomb that might go off at any moment.

His arm slipped away, leaving me cold and bare to the reality I didn’t want to face. The bed creaked as I stood, but he looked peaceful, his features more handsome than ever, somehow, his arm tightening around the blanket in leu of me, the kind of gentle I was afraid to believe.

This was exactly why I needed to leave. I’d felt safe, cherished,lovedeven, but none of it was real. I needed to go.

But God, I wanted to stay.

My phone was on the nightstand. No calls. No texts. The rest of the world moving on, unaware that everything had changed for me in the blink of an eye. Well, not that fast, I thought with a blush.

I didn’t leave a note. What was there to say?Thanks for taking my V-card, see ya never!Signed with a smiley face? I didn’t think so. Besides, I couldn’t linger, knowing that one soft sound or stray gasp might wake him. That maybe he’d ask me to stay. No way that would happen.

I slipped out, heart pounding, guilt creeping in even though I knew this was for the best.

The elevator ride down felt like descending into the reality I’d tried so hard to avoid. The cold, unfeeling metal matched the chill I was trying to build around my heart.

It was better this way. It had to be.

Outside, the city was still waking up. I pulled my coat tighter, bracing against the wind and the emptiness. I ordered an Uber, the screen blurring for a second as I blinked away the rush of emotion.

I’d only let myself love him for one night.

But oh, how dangerous that love was.

Now he was out of my system and I could move on, right? After all, our contract was complete.

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