Page 102 of The Plus One Contract

Finally noticing me, he glances up over the rim of his glasses, and that’s the final straw.

Because, fuck me, that is a look.

Not even a calculated one. Just casual but equally devastating.

"Feeling better?" he asks.

No.

Not even a little bit.

I nod quickly, praying he doesn’t notice the heat rushing up my neck and everywhere else. “Yeah. Good. Great.”

Shut up, Sienna.

He barely acknowledges my flustered response, just goes right back to his book, unbothered by the crisis he’s causing inside me.

I grip the edge of the dresser, needing something solid to keep me from launching myself at him like some feral creature.

How is this happening?

We just spent the last hour playing volleyball with my family. He was covered in sand and sweat. Now he looks like a hot professor who moonlights as a ruthless CEO that knows exactly how to wreck a woman in bed.

Not that I’m thinking about that.

I clear my throat and grab my face creams, anything to distract myself. “What are you reading?”

He barely glances up. “The Art of Influence.”

I frown. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s about negotiation tactics, psychology behind persuasion. How people can be unknowingly manipulated into certain decisions.”

I blink. “Jesus. Can’t you read something normal? Like a thriller? A spicy romance? Maybe a cookbook?”

He smirks, flipping a page. “I don’t cook.”

“I figured.”

He doesn’t argue. He just keeps reading.

I grab my serums and moisturizers and retreat into the bathroom, leaving the door open so we can still talk. “So, do you agree with it?”

“With some of it,” he calls back. “But not everything.”

I apply my toner, my brain shifting back into safe territory. “Like what?”

There’s a pause, then the rustle of a page turning. “Listen to this.”

He starts reading.

Out loud.

And fuck me, I stop breathing.

No one told me that Nathan Calloway reading aloud would be the most erotic thing I’ve ever heard.

His voice is low and deep and perfectly smooth, like it was designed for this exact purpose.