Page 19 of The Contract

But Kenzie can still see how tight my mouth is, and I haven’t yet gotten my dick fully under control.

“We can drive around,” she offers, but I shake my head. The walk will help.

It’s a few blocks to the deli. By the time we arrive, my erection is finally gone.

She pulls the rolled-up contract from inside her blazer and hands it to me. I give her a look.

She shrugs. “Where did you want me to put it, boss?”

“Just go order, Slade.”

While she stands in line, I find a booth. I do my best to flatten the paper then flip to the second page. I stare at Tristan’s signature. It’s a print-cursive mixture. Parts of it are soft and self-contained, but there are a few sharp points. I run my finger over it. My dick stirs back to life.

I’m going to be so damn sore. But then, I’ve been sore a lot since I first laid eyes on Tristan Marshall.

I’m going to have him.

My fingers will be inside his ass.

My cock will be inside his ass.

I wonder what he looks like when he comes. I wonder what he sounds like.

Kenzie slides in across from me. I don’t try to hide my fixation. There’s no point.

“You gave him Noah,” she says.

I frown at where he wrote Noah’s name and number on the emergency contact line. “So what did Tristan say, exactly?”

“He was sharp. Upset when I pushed him on it.”

“He didn’t explain?”

“No. He clearly didn’t want to talk about it.”

The temptation to research him is strong, but I won’t do it. I’d rather learn about Tristan from the inside out.

“You gave him Noah,” Kenzie says again.

I pin her with a look. She’s overstepping.

She stares right back at me. “Dante. He’syourcontact.”

“I gave him to Tristan. Which was my decision to make. Drop it, Kenzie.”

“What is it about this one?”

My heart skips. I fixated on Tristan instantly. I’m rushing. Kenzie knows it. Whatever shows on my face makes her sigh. She looks away and shakes her head.

“You’re a bad employee,” I tell her.

“Oh yeah? Try replacing me, Adesso, see how it goes.”

It’s not clear whether she means that no one would be able to replace her or that she would never allow anyone to replace her. Both maybe, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

A number is called, and she goes to get our food. She returns with two baskets. Mine has extra pickles. Hers is mounded with fries.

“Wash your hands before you get back in my Jag,” I warn her as I pick up my turkey club.

---