Page 130 of The Plus One Contract

He swears under his breath, free hand sliding to grip my thigh, hauling it higher around his hip.

“That’s it,” he breathes, thrusting his fingers in a relentless rhythm.

My mouth drops open, and a sob of near ecstasy rattles out of me as the coil within me tightens, tighter,tighter…

The orgasm hits like a sledgehammer, ripping a raw cry from my throat. My head tilts back against the tile, knuckles whitening where I fist his hair. The aftershocks make my knees wobble, and he holds me, watching every trembling second of my release with intense satisfaction.

I’m still in the throes of it when he lifts me, arms hooking under my knees. My legs drape around his waist again, water slapping at our joined bodies, steam swirling. His gaze is locked on mine, unsmiling, determined.

“Please,” I whisper, though I’m not entirely sure what I’m asking for. Maybe more, maybe mercy, maybe both.

He kisses me then, swallowing whatever word was about to leave my lips. The kiss is messy, bruising, tongues tangling in a battle of want. He grips my ass, aligning me until I feel the hard length of him at my entrance. Everything inside me clenches in anticipation.

We break the kiss, panting, foreheads pressed together.

Then he surges forward, burying himself in me with one powerful thrust.

It’s too much. I’m still raw from the first wave of pleasure, and the stretch hits me deep. I cry out, nails digging into his shoulder blades.

Slowly, he begins to move, each thrust jolting me higher, water splattering across our joined bodies.

I meet his gaze, heart hammering so hard I feel lightheaded. His expression is an exquisite blend of agony and ecstasy, a quiet storm unraveling behind those dark eyes. Every slam of his hips sends me arching, toes curling, heat licking up my spine. I cling to him like a lifeline, letting out small keening sounds with each thrust.

“I’m not stopping,” he warns, voice taut. “Tell me—tell me if it’s too much.”

He’s relentless, but somehow, I want more. My back presses into the cold tile, thighs trembling from the brutal pleasure. “Don’t stop,” I gasp, tightening my legs around him. “Nathan, don’t stop.”

I gasp, my whole body tightening.

He doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t look away.

And that’s what does it.

Not his hands. Not his fingers. Not his cock.

His eyes.

The way he watches me. The way he memorizes me. The way he makes it impossible to pretend that this is still just sex.

I hate him for it.

I hate him.

But I can’t stop.

Because I’m falling apart for him, because he’s inside me, because my body knows his, because my breath catches and my spine arches and my head tilts back.

He grips my chin and pulls my face back to meet his. “Don’t you fucking look away from me.”

So I don’t.

I can’t.

Because I know.

I know this is the end of something neither of us bargained for.

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