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Catching my wrists with one hand, he pushes me, stomach first, against the table. I’m breathless, still reeling from his kiss, when he lifts my skirt with his free hand and finds my core.
A growl escapes his throat. “You are so fucking wet.” His finger circles my entrance, before pushing inside. “You say you don’t want me, but this is how I know you’re lying.”
I let go a long breath but don’t deny it. It’s no use anyway. He already knows my body far better than Jason ever did. He seems to know exactly what I want, what I need.
“I never said I didn’t want you, Evan,” I pant. “I said—” I moan as his fingers slide over my clit. “I said this wasn’t working.”
He leans down and kisses my neck. “What isn’t working?” he murmurs against my skin. “Surely you aren’t talking about the sex.”
My mind spins. I’m hardly able to tear it away from the sensation of his mouth on my neck. “I’m talking about emotions.” He kisses his way up my neck and nibbles my earlobe. “I’m not sure I can keep this strictly physical.”
He slides one finger into my slick channel, than another. “We’ve started something good here. Something strictly physical that works. This is all it can be. I’m not the man for you for anything beyond that, Madeline. And you know it.”
“Do I? I don’t even know enough about you to determine that.”
His fingers pump into me, delving deep, then pulling out again, driving me to distraction. I can’t have a conversation like this. I wonder if he’s planning it this way.
“If you are enjoying this and it’s beneficial to you in more ways than one, then you’re smart enough to keep your feelings detached, especially from a man like me.”
“And if I’m not?”
“You are,” he says. “It’s why I chose you.”
“Evan—” My voice cuts off when he slides his fingers across my clit again. I grind against his hand. In spite of my desire to keep this a calm, business-like discussion, like always, he’s quickly taken control and manipulated everything to favor him, like always.
His free hand grips my chin, tilting my face back and up toward his. And he captures my lips in a fierce, possessive kiss. His next words are murmured against my mouth without pulling away. “I can’t let you go, Madeline. I won’t.”
“Evan, please.” Am I begging to be free of him, or begging for sexual release? I’m not sure, and right now, I don’t care. The feel of his fingers inside me is intoxicating, like a drug I can’t get enough of. “Please.”
“Promise me you won’t end this.” I shake my head. His fingers slow. “Madeline. Promise me.”
“Stop it,” I say, I twist my hands free of his grip and push my body back against his chest. “You are overwhelming me.”
In one fluid motion, he removes his fingers and steps away from me. Cold air sweeps into the space where he was, and I almost whimper at the loss of him. I face off with him, and his expression is grim, determined.
“Do you want to end this?” His tone is calm and controlled, but I sense anger just beneath the surface. And more than a little fear. “Is that what you want? If so, then end it. Say it.” He grinds between his teeth.
My body is still humming from his touch, but I struggle to ignore it. Do I want to end it? He’s giving me an out, and part of me wants to take it. But another, stronger part of me has been ensnared by this man. I can’t imagine walking away. I guess the real question is, can I do this without involving my emotions? Can I turn that part of myself off? I swallow a huge lump in my throat. I don’t know.
The answer is...I don’t know. I hoped that I could, but don’t trust that I can.
“I don’t know what I want,” comes my miserable reply, finally.
“Then you need to decide.” His voice is flat, lifeless. His beautiful features are shuttering from me. I can’t even read his desire except for the bulge at the front of his pants. “I’m not the man for you in any other way but this. I can’t be. I’m not capable of anything but—” He cuts himself off, running a frustrated hand through his hair and shaking his head, as if afraid he’ll reveal too much. “I can only give you this,” he finally concludes. “This is all I have…”
The vulnerability in his eyes guts me. What has done this to him? When I Googled him weeks ago, there was very little information about his love life. Just pictures of him with beautiful models hanging off his arm. Nothing about an ex or a breakup or anything. As far as I know, he’s a serial dater, never allowing himself to get close to a woman. Maybe some of them were contracted mistresses, like me? Though I can’t help but think this is the first time he’s attempted something like this.
And he’s attempting this contractual relationship in response to something that’s happened in his past. Because the way he’s done things before hasn’t worked.
I remember his words at the restaurant not long before I signed the contract. There will be no talk of love at all.
“Will you tell me why?” I ask in a small voice.
His jaw tenses, and he looks away before shaking his head.
I release a heavy breath, my decision made for me. “Then I can’t do this.”
As I move to push past him and walk out the door, he catches my wrist again and spins me around to face him. His eyes are dark, hooded. He looks like a man tormented, and I can’t help it, I lift up on to my tiptoes and place a gentle kiss on his lips.
