Page 131 of The Plus One Contract

A ragged curse rips from his throat, and his pace quickens, hips snapping in an erratic rhythm. My eyes roll back as another orgasm builds, impossibly soon, coiling tight in my belly.

He holds me through it, face twisted with need, until at last he tenses, a deep groan ripping free as he succumbs. His body shudders, each pulse of release surging warmth through me, and I cling to him with trembling arms, the shower still beating down, the entire world collapsing into the echo of our heartbeats.

We stay like that, trembling in each other’s arms, water washing away the evidence of our sin, yet leaving behind something we can’t wash or pretend away.

Eventually, his eyes drift to mine. We share a look that says everything words can’t.

We went too far.

We’ve wanted it this way for too long.

No matter how we try to spin it, we’re changed.

Gently, he lowers my legs. My feet touch the slick floor, and he braces me until I can stand. I watch him turn off the water, the hush of the pipes leaving us in thick silence. We help each other out of the shower with careful steps and lingering touches before he grabs a towel from the rack and wraps it around me with the same tender care.

Then we stand there, dripping, hearts pounding, not saying a word. What can we say? The lines are gone, the illusions shattered. We both know it.

When he bends, he presses his forehead to mine. Our damp hair clings together in a messy tangle. He’s bare, strong, and the raw vulnerability in his eyes is too real.

When we finally leave the bathroom, it’s as though we’re crossing some threshold we can’t retreat from. We slip into the suite’s dim bedroom, the bed waiting, sheets rumpled from earlier. My throat constricts because for all our pretense, for every vow that this was just temporary, we’ve gone and turned it into something else.

He releases my hand. I expect him to pick up his clothes, to get dressed, to keep a shred of distance.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he settles onto the bed, crooking a finger at me. My pulse skitters. Without hesitation, I drop the towel and climb in next to him, letting him pull the covers over us, enveloping us in warmth and leftover steam.

No more words are spoken. We lie there, pressed together, my head on his chest, his arm locked around my waist. The silence holds the weight of a million questions we can’t bear to ask.

Whatever tomorrow brings—whatever regrets or excuses we conjure—right now, in this moment, all that matters is that he’s here. Maybe that’s enough.

Maybe.

Forty-Seven

Nathan

Sienna sleeps on her stomach, tangled in the sheets, her breath deep and steady. The rumpled bedding barely covers her. It’s just enough to shield the curve of her ass, the dip of her spine, leaving the smooth expanse of golden skin exposed to the early sunlight slanting through the curtains.

I rake a hand through my hair, leaning back against the headboard, trying to latch onto something other than the raw ache rattling around in my chest. This was a mistake. A brutal, perfect mistake, but still a mistake. I know better. I know how I work. I don’t stick around. I don’t get attached.

But last night…fuck.

My gaze drags over her again, lingering on the faint indentations on her thighs. It’s marks I left with my teeth. I remember exactly how she sounded beneath me, on top of me, wrapped around me. How she gasped my name like it meant something, likeImeant something. And I let her, over and over, until we collapsed in a pile of limbs and sweat, spent in every possible way.

Now, in a few hours, I’ll be gone. Back to my life. Back to deals and flights and a never-ending schedule that, for the first time, feels pretty fucking meaningless. I’ve spent my entire life on the move. One city, one deal, one conquest to the next. Ask me where I’ll be in a month? Couldn’t tell you. A year? Not a damn clue.

Commitment?

Never been on the table.

Not because I won’t, but because I can’t.

Yet here I am, sitting in bed, watching Sienna shift in her sleep like I might want to stay. The thought scares the hell out of me. It scares me more than any gamble I’ve ever made.

She stirs, body stretching, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she blinks into the light. Her lashes flutter, those beautiful blues locking on mine.

We don’t say a word. We just look.

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