Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
The penthouse has changed a bit. It’s warmer now. Beth’s toys are scattered all over the living room floor, and there are photographs everywhere now. Shots from our wedding, Beth’s birth, and even a candid of Dominic sleeping with her lying on his chest.
There are even fictional books on the shelves now. And throw pillows and blankets on the couch. He complained about those for about a day before he realized how awesome they were.
His mom’s photo is still up there on the top shelf, but it’s not turned away anymore. It faces us, our family portraits, like she’s watching over all of us.
Cassi waits until Beth is busy with her crayons before giving me that look—the one that means she’s about to say something she thinks is hilarious.
“So five years later and you’re still married to the man who trapped you with a sex contract.” She tilts her chin down and takes a sip of her wine. “How’s that going?”
“Cassi…”
“What?” she asks, waving her hands. “It’s a valid question. Most people these days meet on dating apps. You met because a billionaire saw your face and built an illegal contract around it.”
“It wasn’t illegal,” I sigh, searching for the right word. “It was…unconventional.”
“It was crazy,” she laughs. “While simultaneously being the most romantic thing ever. Oh, and have I mentioned I hate you for it?”
I burst out laughing. It’s like warm sunshine in my chest. “Yes, once or twice.”
Cassi was my maid of honor. She gave the toast at the wedding that made the entire staff of Blackwood Capital choke on their champagne. Something about how she always knew I’d end up with a guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer, but she didn’t know I’d be signing paperwork first.
Marcus walked me down the aisle actually. Mom and Dad were both busy, and he knew I’d need a man to do it. We’ve become quite friendly over the last few years. He’s still COO and still the only person, besides me, who isn’t afraid of Dominic.
Beth calls him Uncle Marcus, and he lets her draw on his hands when she’s feeling creative. I never thought I’d see such kindness from him.
“Do you ever think about it still?” Cassi asks. “The contract?”
I shrug. “Sometimes. We keep it framed in his office.”
“Oh my God. He framed it?”
I nod, smiling. “Yup. Right next to the original smiley-face cup.”
She shakes her head, taking another sip of wine. “It’s disgusting how cute you two are.”
“Hey, you said I was waiting for Brad Pitt to come sweep me off my feet!”
Cassi grins. “And I was right, wasn’t I?”
I look down at my ring—the same one I pulled off my finger and set on his desk the day I discovered the truth, then put right back on.
“He’s better than Brad Pitt.”
Cassie groans dramatically and rolls her eyes, but she can’t suppress the grin. “Disgusting. You two are seriously disgusting.”
Around eight, she helps me put Beth to bed and heads home. I kiss my daughter on the forehead, breathe in her soft little toddler smell, and close the door softly behind me.
The penthouse is quiet as I watch the city lights out the window, standing in the kitchen in one of my husband’s old T-shirts. Yup, it’s the same one I stole five years ago.
That’s when I hear the front door open, followed by his heavy, deliberate footsteps.
“I’m in here,” I call quietly.
He comes through the door and stops, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up to reveal those muscular arms. The look in his eyes always makes me swell. It’s like I could be wearing a paper bag and he’d still cross the room over to me like a man possessed.
“Beth’s sleeping?” he asks, his voice low but strong.
“Yup. Cassi wore her out.”
He crosses the room in three strides. His hands find my hips, and he lifts me up onto the counter like it’s nothing to him. As he steps between my bare thighs, I feel the texture of his suit pants against my skin.
Along with the bulge of his excitement…
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he whispers against my neck, dragging his lips up to the spot beneath my ear that tickles so sweetly. “I couldn’t concentrate on anything.”
“You say that every day,” I scoff.
“And it’s true every day.” He lifts the T-shirt up my thighs, exposing bare skin. His eyes widen for a moment, then narrow as he looks down. “No panties?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Good girl.”
It’s been five years, and those two words still hit me like a bolt of lightning. My back arches, pressing me into him, and my thighs open wider. He groans as he looks down. It’s the same noise he made the first day he peeled off my cotton white panties and stuffed them in his desk drawer.