Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
CHAPTER EIGHT
corinne
The heavy paper of the non-disclosure agreement as well as the marriage of convenience contract feels unnaturally thick between my fingertips. High-quality bond paper, the kind of stationery that screams old money, corporate power, and binding authority.
A lot like the man in front of me.
And while the documents may seem perfect and neat, beautifully formatted, it also feels like I’m signing my death to my independence. I stare at the blank line at the bottom of the page.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I whisper, my hand hovering to sign. The expensive Montblanc pen feels heavy. “I’m sure I could start on OnlyFans to make money, but this seems faster. Besides, I don’t see any other choice to keep my mom where she is, and the nursing home will only take half payments for so long.” Dom stays quiet while I prattle on. It doesn’t make his presence any less demanding. The ticking in his jaw tells me he doesn’t like the idea at all. Same, so much same.
“This is faster,” Dom agrees. His deep voice is smooth, lacking any judgment. His posture is relaxed, but his eyes are intensely focused on me. “And far more lucrative. I promise you this, Cory, your mother will be taken care of forever. You have my word, and you have this contract.”
“Fine.” With a sharp, decisive exhale, I press the tip of the pen to the paper and scribble my signature. Corinne Pierson. I draw a swoop at the n at the end with a definite stroke, flip to the next document, and do the exact same thing there. It’s done. My freedom for my mother’s peace of mind, well, and to be debt free. Why does it feel like I’m trading one kind of stress for a different kind of stress? Before I can fully process the weight of what I just signed, Dom leans across the small space separating us.
“To seal the deal,” he mutters. His hand reaches out, and long, thick fingers cup the nape of my neck, gentle yet with an undeniable presence of possession. He tilts my face up and kisses me. It’s not gentle or reassuring, it’s searing, a deliberate claim, and I’m his willing victim. His lips are warm, demanding, and taste of dark coffee and expensive ambition. He wedges in closer, his other hand going to my lower back, pulling me in until I feel the solid heat of his chest. The parting of my lips with a slow deliberateness sends a sudden spike of heat straight between my legs. I press closer, trying to find the release that’s building inside of me. I forget about the contract, my mother’s medical bills, and the sheer absurdity in my life. There’s only this heated moment, the need to feel Dom like this, minus our clothing. The outside world doesn’t exist. God, do I want more. I want so much more, and when Dom breaks our kiss and his thumb brushes over my tingling lower lip, a whimper escapes.
I blink, forcing my brain to reboot. The haze of Dom’s kiss slowly evaporates and is replaced by the reality of the situation and sheer volume of logistics we have to work out and have yet to actually discuss.
“Okay. First of all…” I clear my throat, putting my hand between us and pointing my finger in his direction. “We have logistics to work out.”
“Tell me the problem you’re conjuring up in that pretty head of yours, and I’ll handle it.” He looks thoroughly unfazed.
“I have to work tonight and tomorrow. I’m pulling a double.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“I’d say you don’t need your job anymore, but I like my balls tucked safely between my legs. Clearly, moving in here tonight is off the table.” Dom’s smirk does little to calm my frazzled nerves.
“Since we’re on that, I can’t move in tonight or tomorrow, but I’m off work on Monday. I’ll pack my things. Deal with my landlord. The last thing I want is for you to go through my panties or nightstand drawer to pack my life away into boxes while I’m gone.” My eyes narrow at him.
“Going through your nightstand drawer, Cory?” His dark eyebrow quirks upward. The professional, calculating businessman vanishes within a millisecond, replacing him with a man looking at a woman who’s thoroughly amused and aroused. Pure unadulterated want consumes his face, darkening his eyes until they’re nearly black. “Now you’re giving me ideas. What exactly are you hiding in there that you’re so worried I’ll find?”
“None of your business. Which reminds me, what exactly are the sleeping arrangements in this massive place?” Never mind the blush I feel creeping up my neck, I refuse to look away first.
“There’s only one arrangement. You’ll be in my bed. Day in and day out.” His eyes drop to my lips, he sucks in a sharp breath, and just as I’m about to open my mouth to protest, his expression softens. “Sex isn’t on the table. Not yet at least.” His last statement hangs heavily in the air between us, like a promise. “I’m leaving that entirely up you. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, to anyone who might come into this apartment, we’re a new couple, honeymoon phase and all. We share a bed.”