Page 37 of Contracted and Claimed By The Boss

‘You don’t think they could help, with her current moods?’

‘They’ve raised five kids of their own,’ he said fondly. ‘They babysit their million grandkids in their off hours. I didn’t particularly want to saddle them with my issues.’

‘I’ve seen Reg with her. He’s great. I’m sure he’d have been happy to help.’

‘I needed more. I wanted proper support. Twenty-four-seven, help on tap. Hence, you’re here.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed, nodding slowly. That was why she was here, and it was important not to forget that, even when they were inching closer and closer together, legs entwined beneath the table, heads close together, as though they were the only people in the pub. ‘And you didn’t consider a more permanent solution? Like hiring a nanny for the long term?’

He stiffened and Paige shook her head, worried he’d misinterpret. ‘I don’t mean that I want to stay,’ she hastened to add, ignoring the awful pain in the centre of her heart at his quick and complete rejection of that idea.

He practically grunted his response. ‘I was raised by nannies. An army of them. It’s no way to live.’

She bowed her head forward. ‘I thought I was the poster child for dysfunctional upbringings.’

‘If it’s any consolation, I think that’s a prize you still get to keep.’

She blinked up at him and saw sympathy in his amazing eyes. Her fingers tingled with a need to touch him. She leaned closer, then let her hand lift, to his face, to his lips, tracing the outline as if committing it to memory.

‘Would you like to see the dessert menu?’ The waitress appeared, flicking a curious glance from one to the other.

Paige startled, surprised to find they were still in the middle of the pub.

‘Paige?’ Max’s eyes were hungry, but not for dessert, and it was a feeling that was reverberating inside Paige like a flag in a cyclone.

‘I think we should go,’ she said, eyes locked to his.

‘I’m delighted to hear it. Put lunch on my tab, Clara.’ He stood then reached for Paige, half pulling her out of her chair in his haste to exit the dining room.

Control was slipping away, inexorably and completely, as he pushed Paige’s skirt up her body and dragged down her pants. He’d barely been able to wait until the helicopter door was closed and he’d never been so grateful that the chopper was a decent size and that it had darkly tinted windows. Confident they were screened off from anyone out there, and not much able to care beyond giving privacy a cursory thought, he pulled Paige down on top of him, as he had that first night in his office when his control had been dangling by a thread. Even then, he’d been powerless to fight this.

Lightning.

It had struck him again and again, always with Paige.

It had never been like this with Lauren. He didn’t know why he’d said that it was. Maybe because it seemed wise to add in that kind of detail, some hint of self-preservation and guardedness? Or maybe because he’d actually believed it in that moment, but as Paige fumbled and finally undid his button and zip and released his rock-hard erection from his jeans, pausing only to take the condom from his wallet and sheathe him before lowering herself over his length with a loud, wrenching cry, he knew it had never been like this with anyone.

This was true lightning.

Life-changing, if you allowed it to be, but neither of them would. So instead, they’d both just sit back and enjoy the ride, as many times as they possibly could before Paige’s contract was up and she left.

CHAPTER TEN

AN EASY RHYTHM established itself. Amanda was Paige’s sole focus whenever she was home from school and awake, and, to Paige’s relief, Amanda continued to let Paige into her life, relaxing into conversations, even suggesting some shared activities like watching a movie together. But once Amanda was in bed and fast asleep, Paige was all Max’s, and he was all hers. They used a guest room, far from the family’s bedrooms, because it was imperative that Amanda should never have any possible hint of what was happening between the two of them.

It also seemed right to separate what they were doing from their normal lives. This was something they’d carved out that existed in its own space, away from the rest of their worlds.

In that room, Paige wasn’t Paige and Max wasn’t Max, they were just two people who found they came most to life when they were in each other’s arms, bodies bonded, for those few hours each night before taking themselves back to their beds to wake up the next morning and resume the rhythm.

Strange, though, how after a week of this Paige felt simultaneously the most and least satisfied she’d ever been. On the one hand, sex with Max was fulfilling and incredible, each time they came together somehow more wondrous than the last. She simply couldn’t fathom how it could keep getting better.

But on the other hand, when it came time to say goodbye, she felt frustrated. A yearning was beginning to build inside Paige for the most ludicrous thing—particularly given the level of intimacy they’d shared.

What she really wanted though was to wake up beside him.

She wanted to see him sleep, to watch him wake, to be kissed awake by him—all impossible dreams, made just out of reach by the precarious nature of their situation and their overriding responsibility to do the right thing by Amanda.

And so it was that in the kitchen each morning they were back to their dance of the magnetic poles, skating around each other, maintaining a very safe distance at all times. They knew that if they happened to accidentally brush up against one another, sparks would fly that surely even Amanda wouldn’t be able to miss.

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