Page 35 of The Love Clause

I flop back onto my pillow with a frustrated sigh. "I can't."

More rustling from his side, then silence again. I stare at the ceiling, gather my courage, and make a decision that will either be the bravest or dumbest thing I've ever done.

I dismantle the pillow wall.

"What are you doing?" Elliot asks, his voice sharp with alarm as I toss the last cushion to the floor.

"Eliminating borders," I answer, scooting closer to his side of the bed. "They're not working anyway."

"Josie..."

"I meant what I said tonight," I whisper, my heart hammering so hard I'm sure he can hear it. "Not just about the mediocre sex—though that was unfortunately true—but about you. About us."

"There is no us," he says automatically, but he doesn't move away when I edge closer still. "This is a business arrangement."

"Is it?" I'm close enough now that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. "Because I don't think business arrangements usually involve kissing in canoes or sharing beds or the way you look at me when you think I don't notice."

"Proximity can create the illusion of?—"

"Oh my god, stop talking like a legal brief." I prop myself up on one elbow, looking down at him. His eyes are wide, alert in the darkness. "For once in your life, can you just admit what you want instead of what makes logical sense?"

"What I want is irrelevant."

"What if it's the only thing that matters?" I counter, my voice dropping lower. "What if, just for tonight, we stop pretending?"

His breathing changes, becoming shallower. "Pretending what, exactly?"

"That we don't want each other." The words hang between us, honest and terrifying. "That this is just about the money or the client or whatever excuses we've been making."

"Josie..." My name is half warning, half plea.

I gather every scrap of courage I possess and place my hand on his chest. His heart pounds beneath my palm, a rapid drumbeat that matches my own. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

He says nothing. His silence is answer enough.

Slowly, giving him every chance to pull away, I lean down and press my lips to his. Unlike our previous kisses—the practiced ones in his apartment, the desperate one in the canoe—this one is gentle. A question. An offering.

For one terrible moment, he remains perfectly still, and I fear I've catastrophically misread everything. Then his hand comes up to cup the back of my neck, and he kisses me back with an intensity that steals my breath.

There's no hesitation now, no pretense that this is for show. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, claiming me in a way that makes my spine melt. I shift without breaking the kiss, moving to straddle him, the thin material of my sleep shorts and his pajama pants doing little to disguise how much he wants this.

"We shouldn't," he murmurs against my lips, even as his hands slide under my t-shirt to span my waist.

"Probably not," I agree, rocking against him, drawing a hiss from between his clenched teeth. "Want me to stop?"

His answer is to flip us in one smooth motion, pinning me beneath him with a precision that makes me wonder where else that control might come in handy. "No," he says, his voice low and rough in a way I've never heard it. "Don't stop."

His mouth finds my neck, tracing a burning path from my ear to my collarbone that has me arching beneath him. When his teeth graze a particularly sensitive spot, I can't hold back a moan that seems to shatter something in him. His movements become more urgent, less calculated, his usual perfect control fraying at the edges.

"I've thought about this," he confesses against my skin, hands pushing my shirt up and over my head. "More than I should have."

"Me too," I admit, fumbling with the buttons of his pajama top, needing to feel his skin against mine. "Since that stupid practice kiss in your apartment."

He pulls back slightly, eyes searching mine in the darkness. "That long?"

"Don't look so smug." I finally get his shirt open, running my hands over the planes of his chest. "You're not exactly subtle when you stare at me."

"I don't stare," he protests, but the lie falls apart when his gaze drops to my now-bare breasts, his expression hungry and reverent all at once.

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