Page 22 of Reckless
I freeze at his words.
“I’m not going to sit here and pretend I haven’t been thinking about it all night.” His eyes glaze over and peruse my body in a knowing way, like he can see my skin flush and my nipples pebble. His legs squeeze in on mine. Trapping me. “That dress could be soeasilytugged up. But...” His head tilts down at the glass on the table beside us. “We consumed a lot of tequila. I don’t want you to regret anything.”
Regret?I look him over like I would a patient and wonder if a single woman has ever regretted fucking Theo Silva. It seems highly improbable.
And I want to find out.
For science.
So I toss back the rest of my shot and pull a pen out of my purse. Flipping the coaster over to the blank side, I write:
I, Winter, do legally swear that I am not too drunk to...
I glance up at him. “What are you worried about? I don’t have orgasms, so alcohol intake won’t matter.”
He blinks once, slow and methodical, those thick, dark lashes wiping away a flash of annoyance on his perfect bone structure. “Consent, Tink. I’m worried about consent. The rest isn’t an issue.” His voice drops to a low growl. “You’d get there with me. I’d make sure of it.”
Heat lashes at my cheeks, spills down my throat, and washes over my chest. He’s so damn confident. Tequila or not, talking brazenly like this is new to me. So, instead of arguing with him, I use a shaky hand to finish the sentence:
Consent.
When I peek up, our eyes lock. I’m practically panting and he’s just sitting there, vibrating with sexual energy, fingers clenched around the edge of the table.
I bite at the inside of my cheek and drop his gaze before I sign my name.
Winter Hamilton.
My maiden name.
He registers it too, because when I look back up at him, his gaze remains fixed on the coaster.
“I thought it was Valentine?”
“It’s not. The divorce papers are stashed in my car. On my way out here, I picked them up. I’m a private person. I don’t need my messy divorce to be dinner conversation.”
He nods, searching my face. Then the tip of his tongue peeks out from between his lips as he stares down at the coaster. “So this is a...sex contract?”
“Essentially, yes.” I feel like an idiot, but I also feel like, for the first time in a long time, I don’t care. Every step I took away from that house today was a domino falling. One after the other. Now, there’s only one left, and I’m about to knock it right into Theo Silva’s lap.
“Well, this is a first.” Theo’s fingers dust over where I signed my name and I imagine them on my body.Inmy body.
“I think...” I put a hand on my throat, like that will force me to keep using my words when all I can think about right now is him touching me and the heavy rush of pressure between my legs. “It keeps things very clear. For us.”
He leans close, his demeanor shifting right before my eyes. Hot, damp breath dances along the shell of my ear as his deep voice rumbles against my skin. “Contractual clarity has never made me harder.”
My body flares to life, even though I know he’s teasing me. I force myself to swallow and nod as I shift my eyes to meet his.
“I don’t know if a sentence on a coaster will hold up in a court of law.”
“One night,” I reply. “That’s all. I’m not equipped for anything else. I’m too fucked-up. Taking you to court would involve seeing you again, and I don’t plan to do that.”
His throat works once more.
“And we never tell anyone. We shake hands and walk away, like mature adults with a contract.”
“Winter...” He doesn’t love that part.
I push the coaster at him, feeling more laid bare than I have in, well, possibly ever. My voice shakes. “Sign it or I’m going to bed. My ego is too fragile for this right now.”
