Page 39 of Three Sweet Nothings (The Blindfold Club)

Chapter

FIFTEEN

Kyle’s expression was stoic, but I watched the rapid lift of his shoulders. He was nervous, which of course, made me very nervous.

“How’s that, now?” I asked, dumbfounded. My gaze fell to the agreement in my hands, and as I began to read, all my blood rushed to my toes.

Holy. Fuck.

“What am I reading?” I gasped.

His gaze didn’t deviate from mine, even as I looked down at the papers and back up to him. His intense stare pinned me to my seat while his tone was soft. “Take as much time as you need.”

I tried to keep reading, but the phrase ‘partnership of a sexual nature’ short-circuited my brain and now I couldn’t interpret a goddamn thing. “Okay, seriously.” I dropped the document on his desktop and jabbed a finger at it. “What the fuck is this? A joke?”

“No. I can’t stop thinking about New Year’s Eve. I want that again. I want more.”

Air constricted in my lungs, making everything in my body feel tight, yet weightless at the same time. What exactly did he mean? “More . . . sex?”

“More sex, more of you. More of us together, seeing how much further we want to go sexually. There are things I want to explore, and I think you do, too. This agreement lays the foundation for us to do that together.”

I stared at the document. “For fuck’s sake, you put it in writing?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I communicate better this way, and I believe the same can be said of you.”

He did have a point about our shitty communication, but still. This was so fucking insane, I had no idea what to say. I wanted to see inside his crazy head and figure out what he was thinking. Yet he gave nothing away.

“Everything is open for discussion,” he said. “Except the last paragraph.”

He wasn’t going to elaborate. I picked up the agreement in a shaky hand and tried once more to read. The first paragraph outlined during the duration of the agreement, we were to remain exclusive to each other. The second was about both partners being willing to play whenever the other wanted to, within reason.

Meaning if I signed this bat-shit crazy proposal, I could call him up anytime, he’d come running, and would have to put out, unless he had a valid excuse. And the same would apply to me. I kept reading, because how could I not? It was the most ludicrous and exciting legal document I’d laid eyes on.

The third paragraph stated we would provide our partner with a willing list. This would detail all the sexual avenues we individually wanted to explore, and gauge our level of mutual interest.

Cold crept over my skin as I skimmed the final paragraph. The proposed partnership was about fucking only. Any discussion of a relationship outside of the sex would nullify the agreement. This meant there’d be no hurt feelings, no messy emotions, and certainly no use of the L word.

Okay. I hated him, right?

So why was I feeling one iota of disappointment? I wasn’t about to enter into this ridiculous agreement, and besides, I’d been foolish enough to fall for him once. I wasn’t going to do it again.

Kyle’s gaze on me was crushing. I pretended not to notice as I turned to the next page. Well, yep. There was no dancing around it with legalese here. The willing list was a menu full of sexual debauchery. My face heated as I scanned the page. Some of my darkest fantasies were on here. Only . . . “Where are your answers? This is blank.”

Heat flared in his eyes, and my body threatened to turn into liquid. “You want to see my willing list?” He placed his palms on his desk and pushed up to stand. He spoke the words with so much weight, I felt each one pressed against me. “You want to know every dirty little thing I want to do to you?”

I squeezed my knees together. The agreement was no longer in my hands. At some point, it had fallen to the desktop, and now my fingers curled around the armrests of the chair and dug in. He stalked around the desk, coming closer. I wasn’t moving. My gaze never left his. Yet I felt like I was prey fleeing from a predator.

And I’d never make it. I couldn’t outrun him.

The chair creaked as he leaned over and set his hands on the back. It trapped me beneath him, his tie dangling close to my face, and as I forced myself to suck in a breath, I caught the delicious, woodsy scent of his cologne.

“All you have to do,” he said, “is sign.”

“I’m not signing that.” My voice was a ghost.

His was seductive and confident. “Oh, yes, you fucking are.” He dropped his lips to mine, and I was too stunned to move. My body reacted to his soft kiss, and silently protested when he drew back. “You haven’t put ink on it yet, but you will. You told me you would when you asked me to spank you again.”

The muscles in my core contracted at the memory, trying to squeeze back the rush he gave me. “I was drunk.”

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