Chapter 6: Not in the Contract

I stood outside his bedroom door at eleven o'clock in a robe from the guest closet, with my heart trying to leave my chest.

I could still go back.

I could lie in the guest bed and look at the ceiling and tell myself the kiss at city hall was for the cameras.

I knocked once and opened the door before he could answer.

One lamp burned beside a huge bed.

Cade sat on the edge of it in gray sweatpants, bare to the waist, the bruises on his ribs gone purple and black.

He looked up and every muscle in his body went tight.

"You came," he said.

"I said I was terrible at lying."

"You didn't say anything."

"I'm saying it now."

I crossed the floor and stopped between his knees.

He didn't touch me yet.

His eyes went down the robe, to the knot at my waist, and the heat in them made my skin prickle.

"Take it off," he said.

It was an order, low and flat, and it went straight between my legs.

I untied the belt.

The robe fell.

Underneath I wore a black cotton set I had bought for no one, and I was suddenly aware of every inch of me.

I'm a size sixteen, soft at the stomach and wide at the hip, with freckles down my shoulders.

Cade looked at all of it as though he had been starving.

"Christ, Sorcha."

His hands closed on my hips, big and rough, and pulled me in until my thighs pressed his chest.

He put his mouth on my stomach, right above the waistband, and kissed the soft skin there.

I gasped and my fingers dug into his hair.

"Do you know how long I've wanted to do that?" he said against me.

"Since city hall?"

"Since you told eight hundred people I owed you a wedding."

I laughed, then the laugh turned into a moan, because his thumbs were hooking my underwear down.

He took his time, kissing every inch he uncovered.

My knees shook.

When he stood, he lifted me with one arm around my waist and set me on the bed.

The sheets were cool against my back.

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