Chapter 9
HOLLY
Of course he did.
I pick up the packet gingerly.
“Nothing too in-depth,” he says. “Just a couple of guidelines for the arrangement because I ‘love my contracts.’” He makes air quotes when he throws my own words back at me.
I pretend to weigh the stack in my hands. “This isn’t in-depth? Dear God, I’m terrified to see what your work contracts look like. Do you have signed agreements for how many times your employees are allowed to blink in a day? Is that something that gets you off?”
He digs into his food. “You don’t want to know how hard I get from that.”
“Dexter!”
The corner of his mouth tips up, cocky and unbothered. “Relax. I’m not expecting you to sign today. I figured you’d want to read through it.”
“Please don’t make me read this whole thing.”
“Holly. You will read it. Out loud if you have to... we both know signing a contract without—”
He breaks off, staring as I pull a pen from my purse and, with a dramatic flourish, scribble my name across the bottom of the signature page. Not looking at him, I shove the packet back across the table. “Done.”
“Holly. What the fuck?” He stares at the papers like I just signed away my soul.
“How many times have I said it: Read the fucking fine print. What if I’d slipped in something about weekly visits to my dungeon and mandatory sex on my schedule, not yours, and nonnegotiable roleplay where you pretend I’m your boss every Monday until the baby’s born? ”
I smirk. “Dexter, if I didn’t trust you completely, we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”
“That’s not the fucking point.”
“I also know you don’t have a sex dungeon.”
He sighs heavily and watches as I stuff a bite of pasta into my mouth.
“Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll summarize. We both confirm we’re clean, no STDs. You’ll be primarily financially responsible for the kid—your request, by the way—but I’ve agreed to cover any large, unforeseen expenses. Also, I’ll take care of private school and college tuition.”
I nearly choke. I have to grab my wine to wash it down before I can respond. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t. But I want to. My kid is going to get a great education. I don’t want him drowning in student loan bullshit like we did.”
That… hadn’t crossed my mind yet. Trust Dexter to think so far ahead. “I appreciate that.”
“School’s expensive. And who knows how much worse it’ll be eighteen years from now?”
“Good point.” I smile. “Okay, if our kid decides to go to college, and you still want to help, I won’t stop you. What else?”
“When you move, I want updates. I know you want to do things your way, and I respect that. But this is my kid too. I need to know what’s going on in his life.”
“Absolutely. You’ll be spammed with pictures, texts, ultrasound shots, the works. You’ll beg me to stop. And while we’re on the subject...” I tap the papers. “I have conditions of my own.”
He smooths the pages together, tucks his own copy away, and slides mine across the desk.
“Sorry,” he says, raising his glass. “You already signed the contract.”
I kick him under the table. “Hilarious, Thorne.”
He doesn’t move, just catches my ankle under the table with his, holding it there until I squirm. “Careful, Bishop. You’re in breach of contract.”
“Anyway, my conditions. We already agreed: no relationship, no kissing—”
“We will be kissing,” he interjects matter-of-factly, and takes a drink.
Our eyes meet. Something odd twists low in my chest.
His tone isn’t playful. He means it.
“—no kissing,” I repeat, more slowly this time, making my point. “And I can’t stress this enough, Dexter—I’m responsible for this child. I’ll be the one making the decisions. Starting with where I give birth. I’m having the baby in the UK. You can’t argue this. You can’t control this.”
He swirls his wine, calm as ever. “You know me, Holly. You know I like being in control. I’m not going to apologize for that, and I’m not going to change it. For anyone.”
I click my tongue in frustration and set my fork down a little too hard.
“Maybe this was a stupid idea,” I mutter.
Standing, I lean over and snatch at his copy of the contract, ready to rip it in half, but Dexter is faster. His hand closes over mine, stopping me cold.
“Stop, stop. Don’t do that.” He grabs the contract from my hands. “Look, I can’t make any promises. But I’ll do my best. All right? That good enough for you?”
“No. You need to actually do your best. And you need to promise me.”
He exhales, unblinking. “Okay. I promise.”
I tuck my copy into my bag, sit, and pick up my fork again. With a smile, I say, “That’s all I ask.”
“So, when do we start?” His eyes catch mine. “Now works. Day was long, but I’m good if you are. Didn’t plan for dessert.”
“Day after tomorrow.” I stab a piece of pasta. “That’s when my fertile window starts. Come by after work.”
“Damn. You sure know how to woo a man.”
“Hey, wooing wasn’t part of the deal.”
“Doesn’t mean it has to be miserable.”
“We’re making a baby, Dexter. That’s it. It needs to be quick. I was thinking… one minute. Max. And let’s keep our clothes on as much as possible. This isn’t supposed to be ‘fun.’ One minute and done.”
“One minute and done?” he repeats, dryly.
“Yep. A clean procedure. In, out, thank you and good night.”
He leans forward, eyes narrowing. “Shut up, Holly.”
“Huh?”
He shakes his head. “No. Sorry to disappoint. I’m a man.
And if we’re going to do this, you can bet your ass I’m going to do this right.
” He doesn’t smile. It’s still him, still the man I’ve known forever, but there’s a seriousness in his eyes that feels new.
It makes me realize how much of my best friend I’ve never had reason to see.
“I want this to feel right. I want this to be something you look back on without regret. Or second-guessing.” His voice drops.
“And I’m going to make damn sure you enjoy every second of it. And trust me—”
His gaze doesn’t flinch.
“This won’t be clean. This won’t be vanilla. It’s going to be filthy as hell.”
Oh, my God.
Did he really just say that?
A slow and charged shiver runs down my spine. I’m genuinely surprised by the wave of arousal that rolls through me at his words. The low rasp of his voice, paired with those words do something… something I didn’t expect. My thighs clench before I even realize. Are my panties getting damp? No.
...Maybe.
Shit.
I shovel more food into my mouth just to buy time, as an excuse not to respond.
I’m not turned on. I’m just... touch-deprived. That’s all. It’s been forever since I’ve had sex. That’s what this is, nothing more. I grab my wine and take a big gulp, trying to reset.
It’s Dexter.
My best friend.
He’s never made me weak in the knees before.
Well—except that one time he called me princess when he picked me up for prom. And maybe that night after the art gala when I asked him to kiss me, and he didn’t, and I didn’t dream about what he did to me that night and had to manually… yeah.
But that’s it. That was ages ago. Ancient history.
Still, I feel a little jittery about our upcoming rendezvous in two days. But I push the nerves away, determined to move forward with a clear head.
It’s just business. Baby business.
Nothing else.