Page 95 of The Plus One Contract

She scoffs. “Oh, absolutely. I’d throw myself at you immediately, no chance of survival on your end.”

“That’s what I figured.”

She shoots me a glare so heated I’m surprised it doesn’t burn my skin, though amusement flickers in that twitch of her lips. Good. She’s bouncing back to normal. She’s already wound tight enough. If watching me sleep on the couch helps her breathe easier, so be it.

Still, it’s impossible not to let my gaze follow her as she steps across the suite. She rummages in her suitcase, bending low enough to send a jolt of heat through me, and pulls out the world’s tiniest pair of shorts and a tank top. The combination makes me want to commit every sin, so I shut my mouth and say nothing.

She disappears into the bathroom with a huff, presumably to freshen up before we head to the beach. A few minutes later, she reemerges, hair damp, makeup wiped away, looking softer and warmer in a way that makes my chest ache.

Her shorts are criminally short. Long, tanned legs on display, and I already know they’d feel too good wrapped around my waist.

And that tank top? Jesus Christ.

I drag a hand down my face, forcibly looking away before I do something stupid, like crowd her against a wall and pick up where we left off last night. I retreat into the bathroom for a shower, giving myself five minutes to wrestle my sanity back into place.

By the time I’m done, the suite is quiet. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I step out, intending to throw on a T-shirt and board shorts so we can head downstairs, but Sienna’s at the window, arms crossed, gazing out onto the gardens below. It feels too intimate, seeing her like this, so lost in thought.

I should ignore it, let her have the moment, but I find myself stepping closer. “You good?”

She startles. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

A half-hearted snort escapes her.

“What were you thinking about?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “How fucking perfect they trimmed those hedges.”

I blink before glancing out the window.

And yeah, the hedges are perfectly trimmed.

With a sigh, she turns. The moment her gaze registers me, shirtless in just a towel, her eyes flare.

“Whoa,” she blurts. “You are very close.” She draws in a shaky breath, unable to stop her gaze from traveling down to the towel. “And wet,” she adds, voice going faint.

I tilt my head, letting my mouth curl at the corner. “I guess that makes two of us.”

Her lips part in shock, but she doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. I half expect her to push me away, but she just stares, cheeks tinged pink.

“You should probably put some clothes on, Calloway,” she says finally, her tone unsteady.

“I could say the same about you,” I counter, letting my gaze drag down her body.

Her brows shoot up. “What’s wrong with my shorts?”

“They’re short.”And easy to yank off if I lose my mind.But I keep that part quiet. “Anyway, we need to get down to the beach. Your father’s going to keep texting you if we don’t show.”

She scowls, crossing her arms. “Stop analyzing my wardrobe. I’m wearing them because I plan to change into a swimsuit.”

At the reminder of the swimsuit my fucking traitorous cock stirs to life.

Sure, I’ll somehow survive the sight of that.

I scrub a hand over my face before stepping back. “Right. Fine. I’m going to take a walk.”

She blinks, confused. “You’re going to take a walk?”

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