Page 87 of The Plus One Contract

My body goes rigid with anticipation as his mouth hovers just a whisper from mine. I can feel him everywhere. His scent, his warmth.

It’s when he leans in, lips brushing mine, that I feel it.

I suck in a breath.

At first, the kiss is soft, controlled. A tentative test. But the instant I sigh into him, his restraint snaps. His hands grip my waist, yanking me flush against him, mouth slanting over mine with raw hunger. I melt, sinking into him, my fingers fisting the fabric of his suit jacket. The world fades to a rush of heat and the taste of his lips.

He kisses me deeper, his breath ragged. I gasp, and he swallows it, tangling his fingers in my hair. Everything in me screams to let go and lose myself in him completely. My mind whirls. This is precisely the line we’re not supposed to cross again, yet here we are, crossing it and setting it on fire.

His forehead comes to rest on mine, both of us breathing hard. “Tell me to stop,” he mutters, voice hoarse with restraint.

He used those words once before, the night I ended up in his penthouse. I told him then that I didn’t want him to stop. The difference now is this arrangement, the wedding, the knowledge that I can’t just flee in the morning. But some traitorous part of me still doesn’t want him to stop.

I open my mouth, but the word that comes out isn’t what either of us expects. “No.”

Nathan curses under his breath and spins me, my back hitting the car door with a metallic thud. The fire in his eyes is searing, his hands roaming my shoulders, my arms, gripping my waist again. I arch into him, my mind a hazy swirl of want. His mouth drags along my jaw, teeth scraping my neck before soothing it with his tongue. A needy moan escapes me.

“Sienna! You’re home!” My mother’s voice barrels through the night.

We freeze, panic slamming into me so fast my heart practically ricochets off my ribs. I yank myself from Nathan’s grip. He steps back, fists clenched, chest heaving. Our heads snap around to see my mother, barefoot, in her robe, blinking at us from the front door.

Oh. My. God.

I scramble to look presentable, smoothing my hair, trying to calm my labored breathing. Nathan, for his part, is coiled tight as a spring. The heat emanating off him could probably fry an egg on the driveway.

“Mom,” I say, clearing my throat. “What are you doing up?”

“You know I won’t sleep until you’re home,” she says, as though it’s obvious. I swear she spots the tension hanging between Nathan and me like a flashing neon sign. A slow smile spreads across her face, suspiciously bright. “Look at you lovebirds,” she coos. “How was your night?”

I want to disappear. My skin is on fire, and my lips are swollen from the kiss. Meanwhile, Nathan stands a foot away, trying to look calm, but the frustration at being interrupted and the lust still throbbing between us is impossible to miss.

I force a shaky laugh. “It was fine, Mom. I’ll be in soon.”

She lingers another beat, her eyes dancing between us.

“Goodnight, Nathan,” she finally says.

His voice is steady but strained. “Goodnight, Mrs. Blake.”

She disappears inside, and the moment the door closes, Nathan exhales like he just survived war.

What the hell did we just do?

He clamps his jaw, hands in tight fists. For a second, I swear he’s about to drag me back against him and finish what we started. But he doesn’t. We both know we can’t, not here, not now.

We need to go back. We need to retrace our steps back to our agreement.

Tomorrow starts the wedding weekend. He owes me. That was the deal—fundraiser for him, wedding for me.

I rub my temples, remembering that we’re not done. Not by a long shot. The lines between us are tangled beyond recognition, and it can’t be that way. I've learned my lesson. I refuse to be someone’s backup. Someone's second choice. I was that for far too long with Daniel, always waiting around, constantly wondering where I stood, never sure if I was truly wanted. Nathan made it clear from the moment I made that stupid contract that he doesn’t have time for relationships. He’s hardly even in New York, and he’s always chasing after the next thing. Well, I’m done being second. I won’t wait around for someone to decide my worth because I deserve to be first, not an afterthought in someone’s life.

Though this all started as nothing more than a one-night stand turned business arrangement, it’s starting to feel like more. I know it, and he knows it. If I don't rein it back in, if I don't redraw the lines that have grown dangerously blurred, things will get messy, and I’m not ready for that kind of chaos.

With a fractured exhale, I hold out my hand. He stares at it like it’s on fire.

“Shake my hand,” I tell him.

“Sienna—”

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