Page 86 of The Plus One Contract

“Well, thank you,” I murmur. “You and Julian did the heavy lifting. That was me just paying you back for the burger last night.”

“Julian’s right,” Nathan continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “If you ever decide you hate your job, we’d be lucky to have you.”

I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. “What are you going to do, Calloway? Lock me in your fancy office until the next fundraiser?”

He’s at a red light now, turning his head just enough to arch a brow. “I’m being serious.”

My lips twitch. “You do realize I have a wedding to survive first, right? That’s a full-time job on its own.”

He cracks a hint of a smile. “You’re talented. That’s all I’m saying.”

My heart beats a little faster. I open my mouth to say something, but he slips his hand from the wheel to gently graze my chin, tipping my face toward him. It’s a slow touch, but enough to make my skin tingle where his fingers brush me.

A shiver snakes down my spine, and I let my eyes flutter shut for half a second. “Nathan…” I whisper, uncertain what I’m asking.

“If it were up to me, my office would be the last place I’d lock you away.”

My breath hitches. That single line crackles with innuendo, forcing me to remember the no-sex clause I insisted on. The clause that’s precariously close to shattering anyway.

“Where, then?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, just keeps his hand there a beat longer, letting me feel the heat of his touch. Then he retracts it, smirking as he focuses on the road again. “Let’s just say it might involve safe words,” he rumbles.

My mouth goes dry. The images that conjures up scorch my mind until I’m practically squirming in the passenger seat.

The light turns green, and we move again. The city lights flicker across his face in golden strokes, highlighting his features. Something in my chest clenches at that sight. Did I ever think I’d see him like this, stripped of some outward armor, letting me glimpse small signs of vulnerability?

By the time we pull up outside my parents’ house, my heart’s still in my throat.

He kills the engine. We sit there for a second, the tension pressing in before he climbs out, rounding the car to open my door. I slip out, letting the night air cool my flushed cheeks.

“You’re very well-practiced at taking women home,” I quip, trying to summon my usual sarcasm.

He just silently holds out a hand. Despite my attempt at levity, I can’t ignore the swirl of heat in my belly. When I step back, I feel the loss of his touch.

“Goodnight, Calloway,” I manage, half-turning to go.

“Goodnight, Sienna.” His voice is soft, the shape of my name lingering.

I start toward the front door. One step, two steps.

A twist of something inside me forces me to pivot. I expect him to be sliding back into the driver’s seat, but he’s not. He’s standing at the driver’s door, one hand braced on the roof, staring at me.

My pulse leaps. I swallow, stepping toward him again.

“So,” I begin quietly, “if I were just any other woman you were dropping off after a night… If we didn’t have a contract, no fundraiser, no wedding, no arrangement. If this was real—”

“But there is a contract.” His tone is rough, filled with something I can’t quite name.

“And you stick to your contracts,” I say, digging my fingers into my clutch.

He swallows. Hard. “I do.”

“Yeah, well…” I trail off, feeling unsteady. “If there wasn’t?”

I don’t even know why I ask. Curiosity? Desperation for clarity? A need to know how a man like him would handle a woman he truly wanted, outside of a one-night stand, outside of the boundaries of fake dating. If yesterday taught me anything, it’s that Nathan has sides to him I never expected.

For a moment, he just stares. Then he moves, pushing off the car in slow, deliberate steps until he’s right in front of me, heat rolling off him. He lifts one hand, letting his fingers skim my shoulder as he traces the strap of my dress down my arm.

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