Page 49 of Bride on the Dotted Line

Something in her voice breaks. “I didn’t know if you felt …”

My hands are out of my control. One is buried in the fur at the small of her back, the other finding her left ankle, working its way beneath the hem of her gown, gliding up her smooth, bare calf.

“Take your coat off,” I instruct her.

She immediately frees her arms from the faux fur, letting it fall behind us. My cock strains against my zipper. Who knew Sienna Hayes, the fierce, capable woman who levels men with a single look, would be so good at taking orders?

“I dream about you,” she says. Like mine, her words are tumbling out in a torrent, uncontrollable. “You make me feel crazy. I can’t sleep. I can’t work. I can’t do anything.”

I’m kissing her neck in earnest, now, the feeling of her soft, fragrant skin sparking fire through my body. She’s unbelievable, the truth of her feelings threatening to ruin me. When I scrape my teeth against her collarbone, she moans, head tipping back to offer more of herself. I feel like I might burn alive.

“The contract,” I say roughly.

Sienna wings her left knee to the side, giving my searching hand a clear path up her thigh. “I know.” I slide my tongue down the hollow of her throat. She gasps, body shuddering. “We should stop.”

Under her dress, my thumb grazes soft lace at the crease between her thigh and her apex. She’s molten, so hot and wet for me that I can feel it down the edge of her panties. The want that surges through my body is unbearable.

I bring my head up to lean my forehead against hers.

“Should I stop?”

Her eyes are wide open. Our chests heave in unison. We’re two halves of something whole, magnetized to each other.

She shakes her head. My fingers clamp down on her thigh.

“I’m going to need to hear it out loud, sweetheart.”

Her lashes flutter, eyes black as night. “Don’t stop.”

My heart leaps. It’s freedom, it’s elation. I push my thumb slowly beneath the edge of her panties, savoring the sounds she’s making as I tease her. Then I step back, tugging the lace down her thighs. She brings her legs together, wiggling her hips so I can pull her panties from beneath her dress. I’m so hard I might fucking pass out.

The black lace falls to the floor at my feet, then I’m right back where I was, sliding my hand up her leg toward that wetness beneath her dress. Sienna’s breath hitches. When I find the folds of her slick center, I release an involuntary groan, and …

Her phone starts buzzing.

I freeze, hoping against hope it’s some kind of auditory hallucination. But Sienna’s frozen, too, her breath sawing in and out. We blink at each other as the rhythmic vibration from her purse on the floor fills the room.

“It’s two in the morning,” she whispers after a second. “I should look, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah.”

I step away, letting Sienna off the counter, coming back to myself as she feels around for her purse. My throat feels like it has the diameter of a straw, it’s so tight. The tip of my thumb is still wet with her slick, my nose and mouth filled with her scent and taste.

What the fuck just happened?

Sienna takes one look at the name on her phone screen and taps the green button. “Dad? Are you okay?”

A cold twist goes through my stomach. Her dad. This whole thing—the marriage, her contract—was for her dad.

And we nearly messed everything up.

I unbutton my coat, sinking onto the couch in the living room while she paces the kitchen, saying, “Yes. Yes. No. It’s two o’clock here, Dad. Yeah, in the morning. Okay. They did? What did they say?”

It’s dark in here, city lights casting long shadows on the walls. I’d get up and turn on the light, but I’m still sporting a full erection. I sit, trying to calm myself down, as Sienna ends the call and heaves a sigh, hip bumping the kitchen counter.

“He okay?” I ask.

“He’s fine.” Her voice is hoarse, her hair wild. One strap of her dress is hanging off her shoulder; I’m positive my fingers put it there. “He messes the time change up all the time.”

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