Page 88 of The Husband Contract
His voice is ragged as he breathes. When he goes to kiss me, I recoil. A deep, frustrated sigh rushes past his lips. He sits back on the couch, his eyes searching mine.
“Let’s go to dinner tomorrow night. We can talk then.”
“I don’t want to go to dinner with you,” I say, scooting away from him. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”
“We’re married,” he reminds me as if that answers everything. “And this is something you’re going to have to do to fulfill the contract. We’re going to dinner with my friends.”
“What if I don’t want to?” I rise to my feet, panic rising inside me. “What will you do?”
Like a predator stalking his prey, he also stands, and prowls toward me. “Do you really want to see what I’ll do if you don’t go?”
“Is that a threat, Sebastian?” I demand, taking another step back. “What are you going to do?”
His grin is wolfish and filled with wicked promise. “We can wait till tomorrow night and see.”
Why does that both terrify and excite me? It’s like he can read my mind. I pray to God he can’t. I’d hate him to know that I still dream about him touching me.
“You know, I thought when I met you that you sucked because you were rude and mean, and then you thought I was going through your pocket—which I wasn’t. I thought you were a jackass. But then I saw you again, and you were so sweet and nice, and you apologized. I figured everyone has a bad day.”
He arches an eyebrow. “I have plenty of bad days.”
No kidding.
“I thought to myself, ‘He’s not a bad guy. He is a good guy. Handsome and tall and rich. He’s sweet, and he cares about me, and he sees me, and maybe he’s even a little woo-woo—believing in the stars and fate—like, wow, this is a man I really want to get to know better. This is a man I feel a connection to, even though I know I shouldn’t.’ But it was all wrong.Iwas wrong.”
He crosses his arms over his muscular chest, biceps bulging. It’s extremely distracting. “Why do you say that?”
“Why do youthinkI say that? Sebastian, you’re horrible.”
He presses his lips together. “It’s been a long week, Willow.”
I grab his tie from his hands and hurl it toward theground in frustration. “You think it’s been a long week? It’s been an even longer fucking week for me. You’re holding me prisoner here!”
“You can leave anytime.” He shrugs nonchalantly and offers me a big fake smile. His eyes look distant and I swallow as he waves toward the door. “Why don’t you make your way out?”
“Really? I’ve tried—and the door’s been locked. Whenever I ask Janice for the key, she shrugs and says she doesn’t know how to unlock it.”
I guess we’re both his captives here.
“Do you want to leave?” he demands, jabbing a finger toward the door. “It’s not locked right now.”
The promise to leave is tempting, but what will it cost me?
“What will you do if I leave? Will you still try and go after Katherine or Brielle or their parents?”
“Honestly, I don’t know right now.” His voice cracks as he scrubs a palm over his face. “I don’t know anything except that I want to kiss you. I want to touch you. I want you in my bed. I want to fuck you.”
I stare at him, not saying a word. I will not show him my feelings. I will not let him see how badly I want to feel his lips on mine.
“And I know you want it too, Willow,” he continues, rare vulnerability in his expression. “I can see it in your eyes. You want me just as badly as I want you. My body burns for you, Willow. Is this what it’s like to be hit in the heart by a woman? Have you done something to make me fall for you?”
“Stop fucking blaming me,” I shout. “Why is it always the woman who’s at fault?”
“Because you’re under my skin.”
I just shake my head.
“Did you miss me while I was gone?”
