Page 110 of American Beauty

I shake my head. “Actually, I’m not.”

I would say that he looks confused, but it’s hard to tell with his face looking like he zigged when he should’ve zagged. “We have a contract, and there’s a clause in that agreement––one you’ve violated.”

“That’s bullshit.”

I arch a brow, turning toward my desk. “You should’ve read the fine print.”

I pluck a folder from my drawer, flipping it open, my fingers gliding over the pages until I find the clause I’m looking for.

Clearing my throat, I read aloud. “The designer reserves the right to terminate this agreement should the client engage in conduct that is illegal, unethical, or otherwise detrimental to the designer’s professional reputation and/or personal values.”

I slam the contract on my desk in front of him. “You signed it. Now I’m exercising my legal right to end the agreement.”

His jaw tightens. “You think that’ll hold up?”

“I don’t think, Tyson. I know. You’re welcome to fight it, but you won’t win. I took special care to cover all my bases with you. My gut told me I couldn’t trust you and I was right.”

Alex chuckles, full of satisfaction. “Damn, McRae. You got outplayed by the fine print.”

The fight in his eyes fades, weakening, until there’s nothing left but quiet defeat. “All right then. I guess this is it.”

“It is. Goodbye, Tyson.”

Without another word, he turns and leaves. The second the door swings shut, I can breathe again. But before I can process what just happened?—

Alex is on me.

No hesitation. No patience.

Just raw, unfiltered need.

His hands grip my waist, yanking me flush against him, his body a furnace of heat and coiled power. His ragged breath is heavy with restraint that’s hanging by a single frayed thread.

“Damn, babe.” His hold on me tightens, his fingertips pressing into my skin. “That was fucking hot.”

A breathless laugh escapes me, but it vanishes the second his lips ghost over mine. His eyes are dark, heavy-lidded, devouring.

“Was it?”

“You were such a boss.” His fingers skim up my spine, dragging fire in their wake. “Sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen, the way you handled him.”

I don’t even have time to react before his mouth crashes onto mine. There’s nothing soft about it. Nothing patient.

Teeth, tongues, lips—everything is fevered, frantic.

His hands are everywhere—one tangling in my hair, angling my head for deeper, hotter kisses, the other sliding down to my ass, gripping hard as he pulls me closer. I feel every inch of him, every solid muscle, every sharp edge that makes Alex Sebring the man who owns me.

His hands slip lower, gripping the backs of my thighs, and before I can react, he lifts me onto the desk.

My breath hitches, a sharp gasp swallowed by his mouth as he steps between my legs, pressing into me, showing me how much he needs this.

“Alex––” I say, but it’s more of a plea.

“I loved watching you put McRae in his place.”

His lips brush my jaw, trailing lower, his teeth grazing my pulse, sending a shudder rippling through me.

I’m already gone.

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