Page 35 of Before We Break

“Make it three outings. One date.”

I scratch out four and write three above it. “Should either party wish to terminate this contract at any time, the dissolution must be mutually agreed upon unless one of us fails to hold up our end of the bargain.”

“You’re taking this way too seriously,” he says dryly.

I add another bullet point. “Canoodling. For believability.”

“You can’t put canoodling in the contract.”

I add three exclamation points for emphasis, dotting them with an exaggerated defiance. “I just did.”

“Fine. What else?”

“The usual stuff. Hand holding. Longing glances. You know, couple stuff. I’ll just write ‘etc.’”

“What about sex?”

A shiver courses through me at the gruff edge to his voice and my brain short circuits. “What?”

“Sex. Couples have sex, Clio.”

“Not this one. Absolutely no sex,” I add, underlining the word three times. “And no cheating.”

“Is it cheating if this isn’t real?”

He has a point, but even if we aren’t together, it will look like it to everyone else. I won’t be publicly humiliated like that ever again. “Technically, no. But we have to keep up appearances for Auggie’s sake.”

And mine.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The position brings him much closer, almost uncomfortably so. “If I’m not fucking you, and I’m not fucking anyone else, what do you suggest I do? A man has needs, princess.”

My stomach twists into a pretzel, and I pause to wet my suddenly dry lips. I’m pretty sure all of the liquid in my body has been redirected to my pussy.

Now I can’t seem to focus on anything but his mouth.

And hands.

And…

I squirm in my seat, way too hot and more than a bit awkward. “You’re a big boy, Noah. Take care of it yourself.” I clear my throat. “Do you have anything else you want to add?”

He relaxes, putting distance between us again, and the tension melts away. “No. That pretty much covers it.”

“Good.” I scrawl my name on the first line, then pass the notepad and pen to Noah. He scribbles something indecipherable and hands it back to me. “This ends December 26th.”

“Should we shake on it? Do a blood oath?” Noah asks, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Make fun of me all you want, Weston, but I have the upper hand. You need me. Not the other way around.”

He leans in close, barely an inch away from my cheek. What does this man have against personal space? “Maybe that’s true, but I’m the only thing standing between you and swiping left on a bunch of mediocre men’s senior photos from twenty years ago.”

The air grows charged as I hold out my hand between us. His palm slides against mine, his long fingers curling around me in a caress that’s surprisingly gentle and far too tempting.

Is it too late to put sex on the table? Or have sex on the table?

My heart hammers against my ribcage for what feels like an eternity before his hand drops away.

I watch him leave, unable to shake the feeling that something just fundamentally shifted, something that can’t be taken back.