Page 31 of An Engagement Pact

The sound of it terrifies me. I take an awkward step back.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

I try not to be an unreasonable person. I try to avoid conflict and stay out of other people’s way. But occasionally something strikes me in a particular way—like it’s piercing into the soft heart of me with dangerous accuracy—and I can’t help but rile up in automatic defense. Even knowing my defensiveness isn’t entirely irrational, it’s necessary.Necessary.

That’s exactly how I feel right now. I snap my head back up to glare at him. “I’m not doing anything. What areyoudoing?”

“What is going on here?” For the first time since I’ve known him, he looks genuinely annoyed. Almost angry. “Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you!”

He makes a choking sound.

“I’m not mad,” I repeat. “I’m indignant. There’s a difference.”

“What exactly is the difference?”

“Mad makes it seem like there’s no reason for it. I’m indignant because we agreed to keep this professional.”

“I know what we agreed.” He’s gruff and stiff and more grumpy than fiery. “I haven’t done anything inappropriate. I haven’t even touched you.”

“I know that. But you look... you look... you look...”

“I look like what?” He’s breathing heavily. His shoulders are rising and falling. He feels hot—so hot I can feel it radiating off him from several inches away.

“You weren’t looking professional.”

He groans and rubs at his hair. “What the hell, Vicky? I’m doing the best I can. You said you wanted to keep it professional, so I’m not ever going to make a move on you. But how the hell am I supposed to control how I look?”

I can’t believe we’re actually arguing about this. It’s like a surreal hot haze has completely consumed me. “You can stop thinking about it.”

“How am I supposed to stop? Seriously. Tell me how to do it, and I will.” The words burst out of him. I’ve never seen or heard him so passionate. “Because I’m trying. I get it. You agreed to do this crazy thing with me, but you want to maintain your boundaries. It makes sense. It’s a lot safer and smarter. So I’ll respect your boundaries and I’ll keep my hands to myself, but I can’t keep from wanting what I want.”

I gape up at him breathlessly. “What you... you want?”

“Yes! What do you think is going on here? From the very first time I saw you, I wanted to get to know you. And the more time I spend with you, the more I want. You’re the most fascinating, beautiful, challenging, sexy, stubborn, sensitive, infuriating woman I’ve ever met in my life. How the hell am I supposed to stop wanting you? Tell me, and I promise I’ll do it.”

He’s flushed. His face is slightly damp with perspiration. He’s still panting loudly, and his eyes are like silver-gray flames.

And I want him.

Desperately.

I’ve been aroused before. Plenty of times. But I’ve never believed those scenes in books and movies where people are suddenly, uncontrollably overwhelmed by animal lust. It’s never happened to me before. Not even close.

But it does right now.

And this pure want isn’t simply physical. It’s emotional. It’severything. I want him. All of him. Like I’ll literally starve to death if I don’t have him.

Right now. This very moment.

I suppose I could have stopped myself if I’d forced my mind to do it, but nothing inside me wants to stop. So I launch myself at him. Grab him around the neck and use the leverage to pull myself up enough to reach his mouth.

I kiss him hard and eager and hungry. Entirely shameless.

For a moment, he holds himself still, obviously taken by surprise. Then something suddenly comes alive inside him. He grabs my head with both hands. Leans down farther into the kiss. Starts moving his lips against mine urgently and then his tongue.

He makes a hungry sound into the kiss, and he moves one arm down to wrap around me, easing me more fully against his body.

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