Page 126 of The Plus One Contract

His gaze holds mine, like he’s memorizing this. Like he knows something’s changing between us, and neither of us can stop it now.

The dress I almost stripped out of ten minutes ago still clings to me, damp at the hem. His shirt’s rumpled from throwing me over his shoulder. There’s salt in my hair, sand in my shoes, but somehow, this feels like the most perfect moment.

The song drifts to an end, replaced by something faster, but neither of us moves. His hands don’t drop. My body doesn’t step away. We hover, breathless and charged, caught in the space betweenjust pretendandGod, please mean it.

He’s still watching me when he finally speaks. “We should head back.”

My throat tightens, and my body hums because for the first time, I don’t want to play this game anymore.

“I don’t want to go back inside.”

My voice is steady.

No hesitation.

He stills.

There’s a beat where the silence holds its breath.

Then his hand slips into mine, fingers curling tight. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to.

The air sparks between us as we walk toward the elevators. No one stops us. No one looks twice. Maybe they’re too wrapped up in their own night to notice two people falling into something they swore they wouldn’t.

The elevator dings. We step inside, and he presses the button for the third floor.

Still silent, we stand side by side, facing the steel doors.

When they open again, I can tell that his control is hanging by a thread as he reaches down and takes my hand in his.

His grip is firm.

Possessive.

When he steps out of the elevator and leads me down the hall, he doesn’t look back. He knows I’ll follow.

And I do.

God help me, I do.

No words. No second-guessing. Just a shared understanding.

We walk the length of the hallway to our suite, every step deliberate, my heart hammering in a staccato I can’t calm because inside that room, the lines we’ve drawn won’t matter anymore.

We both know it, and neither of us stops.

Forty-Six

When we reach the suite, he swipes the key card, pushes the door open, and walks us inside. The moment the door shuts behind us, silence settles again.

It’s suffocating.

I can’t breathe.

I should say something, make a joke, lighten the tension, but my heart hammers too loudly, my breath coming too fast.

Nathan turns to face me.

I know what’s about to happen because his eyes are hooded, blazing with a hunger I’ve never seen before. When he steps toward me, I don’t back away, don’t run. I lift my chin, meeting him halfway.

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