Chapter Nine
Claire
We have a problem.
He hadn’t asked me what I meant, and we were still tangled up in each other’s arms.
The encounter with Jen was still fire in my veins, and the sense that I didn’t have to give her everything she wanted felt like a new kind of freedom.
His embrace should have steadied me, should’ve calmed my restless heartbeat.
But he was too warm, too solid, too close.
This was not allowed.
This was not what I signed up for.
But I didn’t let go.
Jen’s anger had me spinning.
The way her face twisted, all venom and disbelief when I told her she couldn’t have another one of the gifts Alexander bought for me.
The horrible silence in the room after I said no.
Was this what it felt like to stand up for myself?
For a second, I thought my insides were catching fire.
But then the hurt and accusation in her eyes twisted everything back to the way it always was.
Or maybe I needed more time to get used to not being taken advantage of, a small voice whispered within me.
Maybe Jen was right, and I was the selfish one.
Maybe being with Alexander was turning me into a different person.
I almost wanted to call her to apologize, to say she could take the bag, take anything, just don’t look at me like that again.
But I wouldn’t. Not this time.
I tried to be proud of myself, but every second felt like my decision was tearing something out of me.
Too many things—guilt, doubt, fear—stacked on top of each other, threatened to crush me.
But the way he was holding me…
my body was acting before my mind could catch up.
“Claire,” he said, arms solid and immovable around me.
The warmth of his body sank into me, overwhelming and unexpected.
This was supposed to be a contract, not an embrace.
But I couldn’t stop.
Didn’t want to. My pulse thumped like bass in my ears.
I should have moved.
But I didn’t. And neither did he.
Everything else fell away—the encounter with my ex-boss, the strange tension I didn’t understand at Alexander’s family dinners, Jen’s accusations, the way my family seemed to want me to provide everything – okay, maybe that one wasn’t fair.
The pressure I put on myself.
I should be panicking.
This should worry me, the way I was clinging to him like he was the only thing that could stop me from drowning.
Like his belief in me was the only thing keeping me from failing completely.
But was I failing? Hadn’t I done everything to help my family, even to my own detriment?
I would never have signed the contract with Alexander if I wasn’t taking care of literally everyone else.
A contract I now know will cost me a lot more than I ever could have anticipated.
It was almost comforting how quiet he was.
Almost. I should have known by now that the silence wasn’t a relief, but a warning.
I held my breath, bracing for the shift when he finally spoke.
But the only thing that moved was the steady rise and fall of his chest.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said, finally breaking the stillness.
My voice sounded too loud in the silence, too unsteady.
“Do what?” He sounded genuinely confused.
His voice was low, calm.
He wasn’t trying to pull away.
“Comfort me. It’s not part of the contract,” I whispered, unsure if I was trying to convince him or myself.
But the way he looked at me—the same way he did when he closed the distance between us to hold me, the way he took my side without hesitation—made my heart lurch.
Made me question everything I thought I knew about this arrangement, about him, about myself.
It was hard to reconcile the feeling of his arms around me with the man who said this was strictly business.
Harder still to ignore how much I liked it.
This didn’t feel like business.
He finally shifted, just slightly, like he might let me go.
My breath caught, but my arms stayed locked in place.
Instead of releasing me, he held me tighter.
“That’s the second time today you’ve surprised me, Claire,” he said, a strange note in his voice.
My chest fluttered. Surprised.
I surprised him. Did that mean I mattered to him?
More than just a piece in his plan?
The thought should have been comforting, but it made me uneasy.
If I let myself believe that, how would I ever go back to being the Claire who knew exactly where she stood?
The Claire who didn’t need anyone’s approval or help?
The Claire who could walk away from this arrangement with nothing more than a healthy bank account and the satisfaction of knowing she put her family first?
“You’re quiet,” I said, breaking the silence.
“Does it bother you?” he asked, but the hint of a smile in his voice told me he already knew the answer.
Yes, I wanted to say.
Because when he was quiet, I had too much room to think.
Too much space to feel.
His hand skimmed up my back, light as a whisper.
I was hyperaware of every part of us that touched, every breath, every bit of building desire and excitement within me.
“I’m proud of you. You stood up to Jen,” he said, and there was something in his voice I couldn’t quite place.
Admiration? Surprise?
I had no idea why his opinion mattered so much to me.
But it did. It really, really did.
“It didn’t feel as good as it should have,” I said.
“I thought...”
I thought it would make me stronger.
I thought I’d feel like a different person, a better person, for saying no.
For once.
“It takes time,” he said, and his breath was warm against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
My heart did something stupid and reckless and uneven.
“It doesn’t bother you?”
“What?”
“That I—” But the words caught in my throat, and all I could do was exhale.
I didn’t even know what I wanted to say.
Did it bother him that I clung to him like this?
Did it bother him that I wanted more than a contract, more than the cold comfort of an arrangement where neither of us got hurt?
He shifted again, and this time I was sure he’d step back.
Let me go. But instead, he angled his head and dipped it toward mine.
“Claire,” he said. Just my name, but there was so much more to his tone.
Too much.
He was going to say something that would ruin the moment.
He was going to remind me what this was, what it wasn’t.
He was going to tell me that I was foolish for believing, even for a second, that he cared.
But none of that happened.
He said nothing further, but the warmth of his body made my limbs feel heavy, made everything else feel distant and far away, unimportant, even.
He finally loosened his hold, just enough for me to slip away if I wanted to.
I should have. I knew I should have.
But instead, I tightened my grip, and his breath caught.
His jaw tensed. The thud of his heart slowed and then picked up again, dragging mine with it.
“You’re stronger than you think, Claire,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
If only he knew how weak I wanted to be right now, to give into this pull inside, the one that wanted us to be this close with no barriers between us or concerns about a contract.
I wanted him. All of him.
Instead, I clung to him as though I could hold on forever.
I should have run, gone home, anything to escape him.
The heat in Alexander’s gaze should have sent me screaming for the hills, should have knocked me loose and kept me from doing anything irreversible.
But it held me captive.
It told me I wasn’t wrong, that the safety and warmth and want wasn’t just in my head.
“Claire.”
The way he said my name made my heart stutter, sent heat rushing through me in a way I couldn’t control.
I started to speak, to pull away before this spiral became irreversible, but his expression stopped me cold.
His eyes burned—heavy, knowing, daring me to resist what was happening between us.
He dipped his head. I rose to meet him.
I kissed him.
I wasn’t supposed to.
I wasn’t supposed to want this.
But I did, and it was more than a contract, more than an arrangement, more than anything I’d ever let myself imagine.
I rose to meet him, and the force of it—of us—was devastating.
Comfort and desire tangled so tightly I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
He felt like something I was meant to hold on to, something steady, something real.
But this wasn’t supposed to happen.
I swallowed hard, shivering against the intensity of it—the way his hands gripped the fabric of my shirt, pulling it tight and holding me upright, the way I melted into his warmth despite every warning and red flag screaming in my mind.
My body betrayed me, pressing closer, demanding more, while doubt clawed at my insides like a real, living thing trying to save me from this devastating mistake.
His gaze was scorching when he pulled back just an inch—just enough that his breath cooled the dampness of my lips.
Everything inside me screamed to close the distance again.
To erase the space between us, to feel his lips on mine, to forget everything beyond this moment.
But he hesitated.
A flicker of restraint.
A test.
And suddenly, it wasn’t just about want—it was about choice.
I could step back. I could end this now.
Or I could kiss him again.
Really kiss him.
I made my choice.
Sure, I wasn’t supposed to want this.
But I did—and the force of it, of us , was undeniable.
Alexander kissed me like he already owned me, like the last of his resistance had snapped and all that was left was this wild rush of heat.
It lit a fire under my skin, left me reeling.
His mouth, his tongue, were greedy, insistent, claiming me like I’d always been his and just didn’t know it.
And my own response, melting into him, needing him more than air.
Then he lifted me, and I gasped as my legs wrapped around his waist. I’ve never done this before.
I didn’t care. Not anymore.
When he laid me back on the bed, I was sure.
Sure I wanted this, wanted him .
I had imagined this moment, but nothing came close to this.
Nothing came close to the intensity of his lips claiming mine, the shockwave of his tongue sweeping into my mouth.
His hand caught my wrists and pressed them to the bed above me, as if to keep me from fighting.
I had no intention of struggling.
My heart beat frantically, but instead of being afraid, I was drawn in deeper, closer, with a need that should have worried me.
It didn’t.
His hand was firm on my hip, the tips of his fingers just grazing my backside in a way that drove me wild, and I melted under him.
Was this really happening?
Was I really doing this?
The terrifying, thrilling answer was yes.
My fingers tangled in his hair as he devoured me with an urgency that made my head spin.
His mouth left mine long enough for him to pull back and search my eyes.
I sensed he was asking me if this was okay, and internally I screamed at him to not stop as if he’d hear me, because there was no way I could speak.
Then he kissed me again, hard, like he couldn’t help himself, and I kissed him back, helpless in a way that made me breathless with want.
I gasped, not sure if it was from the shock or the sheer intensity of wanting him like this.
Alexander Reed was going to be my first. I felt all sorts of ways about that, but above all, I felt ready.
Maybe I’d regret it later, but right now, nothing had ever felt more right.
His weight pressing me down into the bed felt amazing, the bed soft under me, him hard and solid on top of me.
My legs gripped his hips, my feet locking behind his calves, clinging to him like I’d never let go.
And maybe I wouldn’t.
His lips left mine to trail along my jaw, down my neck, each kiss sending shivers through me.
“Alexander,” I whispered.
His mouth moved lower, the sensation so intense I didn’t know if I could take it.
But I did. I took all of it.
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think past the way his body moved against mine, the way his lips claimed every inch of skin he could find, my neck, my belly, my hip.
My fingers twisted in the sheets, and my head pressed back as his hand moved with deliberate skill, lighting up nerves I didn’t know I had and sending an army of goosebumps along every bit of my flesh.
My breath caught in my throat, and a desperate sound escaped my lips.
I had never imagined it could be like this; this man was overwhelming my senses in a way that was all consuming and impossible to deny.
And I loved it.
And then he touched me, lower, right there, and my back arched off the bed, my entire body trembling from the force of it.
His thumb pressed against the sensitive spot between my thighs, and I gasped, shocked by the intensity, stunned by the heat flooding my senses.
And then he continued, quick and sure on the outside of my pants, his movements building, driving me toward a breaking point I couldn’t hold off while his lips made their way back up my body, his tongue tasting me here and there.
My mind was a wild tangle of thoughts and contradictions.
I should be scared. I should stop this.
But nothing had ever felt so amazing.
“You’ve never done this, have you?” he asked, his voice low and strained.
I sensed he was testing my experience, but…
The answer was no.
I didn’t know how to speak.
But my body knew.
“Be a good girl,” he growled in my ear, his thumb still lighting up my nerve endings with the intensity of the summer sun.
“Let go. Let me do this for you.”
His words only heightened the sensations.
“My sweet, innocent Claire, I want to feel you tremble.”
Well, I was.
How did he not feel it?
“Alexander-” I tried to speak, I really did, but my throat just wouldn’t.
“Shh,” he said, and I let out a little squeak of approval.
My body was winding up tight, I wanted more, but maybe less?
I needed something, I had no idea what.
My hips moved into his hands, my back arching.
His words whispered in my ear, and I couldn’t hold back.
Something was happening.
I came apart under the force of it, every muscle tensing, every nerve on fire, every thought wiped clean until all I could see was white.
And then ripples pulsed through my core, washing away like waves on the beach and I exhaled, feeling the pleasure and relaxation taking over every inch of my being.
My chest heaved, and my hands were still fisted in the sheets, still clinging to something, anything, that would keep me from losing my grip.
I felt his weight go before my vision returned.
The bathroom door closed and locked behind him as the room came back into focus.
I half sat up, staring after him, every inch of my body still tingling, the air cooling on my skin, and the last few minutes replayed in my head like a fever dream.
Had I really just…?
Had he really just…
?
Was I still…?
The heat faded, leaving a chill in its wake.
My first time doing something like this, and he’d bolted like I’d burned him.
The sting of disappointment pierced through the fog of leftover desire, and my heart squeezes so tight tears prickled in my eyes.
I sat up, hugging my knees to my chest confusion and hurt battling for space in my mind, but the one thing I couldn’t ignore was how good it had been.
How right it had felt.
How wrong it was that he’d walked away.
A thousand questions burned through me, each one more consuming than the last.
But the most painful question of all was the one I didn’t have the courage to ask.
Did it mean anything to him? Did I?