Chapter 6

Elena's POV

His mouth was on my neck, teeth grazing that spot just below my ear, and coherent thought became impossible.

"Tell me you want this," he demanded, pulling back just enough to look at me.

"Tell me you want me, not the contract, not the money—"

"I want you," I heard myself say, and the words felt like jumping off a cliff. "God help me, I want you."

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and felt him hard against me through the thin barrier of his pants.

"Elena." My name sounded like a prayer and a curse all at once. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

I didn't answer—couldn't answer—because he was already working his belt free, the metallic clink of the buckle obscenely loud in the quiet office.

My fingers found the buttons of his shirt, yanking them open with enough force that one went skittering across the floor.

"Eager?" There was dark amusement in his voice, but his hands were shaking as he pushed my underwear aside.

"Shut up and—oh, fuck—"

He entered me in one hard thrust, and I bit down on his shoulder to muffle the sound that wanted to escape.

"Too much?" he asked, but he didn't move, giving me time to adjust.

"No," I managed, digging my nails into his back. "Don't you dare stop."

That broke whatever last thread of control he'd been holding onto.

He moved—hard, fast, nothing gentle about it.

The desk creaked beneath us, and I had a distant thought that we were probably going to break something expensive, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

"You feel—" He couldn't seem to finish the sentence, his face buried in my neck as he drove into me again and again. "Christ, Elena, you feel—"

I kissed him to shut him up, swallowing his words and his groans, my body arching to meet his with a desperation that should have embarrassed me.

"Arthur—" His name came out broken as I felt myself getting close, that familiar pressure building low in my belly. "I'm going to—"

"Tell me," he demanded, his thumb finding that sensitive bundle of nerves and circling it with maddening precision. "Tell me what you need."

"You," I managed to gasp, past caring how desperate I sounded. "I need you."

"Look at me," he commanded, and I forced my eyes open to meet his. "I want you to see who's doing this to you. I want you to know exactly who you belong to."

"Quiet," he murmured against my ear, even as he began to move. "Unless you want everyone in this building to hear what their boss is doing to his wife."

The reminder of where we were—in his office, in the middle of the day, with his entire staff just outside that door—should have been mortifying.

Instead it sent a fresh wave of heat through me, made me clench around him in a way that drew a rough groan from his throat.

He set a punishing rhythm, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave marks.

The desk creaked beneath us with each thrust, and I found myself biting down on his palm to keep from screaming as pleasure built in waves I couldn't control.

"Come for me," he ordered, his thumb finding that sensitive bundle of nerves between my legs. "Come for me, Elena. Let me feel it."

I could feel myself climbing toward something huge and terrifying, my entire body wound tight as a spring.

His thumb found that sensitive spot again, circling and pressing, and suddenly I was there, falling over the edge with a force that made stars burst behind my eyelids.

I shattered around him with a cry I couldn't suppress, my entire body going taut as pleasure crashed through me in waves.

Somewhere through the haze, I felt him follow—his rhythm stuttering, his grip on my hips hard enough to bruise as he emptied himself inside me with a groan that sounded like it had been torn from his chest.

For a long moment, we just stayed like that—him still inside me, both of us breathing hard, the reality of what we'd just done slowly creeping back in.

"Well," I finally said, my voice hoarse. "That was—"

"Don't." He pulled back to look at me, and there was something fierce in his expression. "Don't you dare make a joke right now."

"I wasn't going to—"

"We're getting married," he said abruptly, and I felt my brain screech to a halt.

"Yes, I know, I personally signed the contract myself."

"I want us to stand up in front of witnesses and say vows," he said abruptly."I want to take you to Las Vegas to have the wedding ceremony."

I felt my brain screech to a halt.

"I stared at him, trying to process what he'd just said,“We're just in a fake contract marriage, and the contract only lasts for three years.”

"I know that." He was already pulling away, tucking himself back into his pants with quick, controlled movements that somehow felt more aggressive than gentle. "But we never had a ceremony. No vows. No witnesses. Just lawyers and signatures on a contract."

"Because that's what we agreed to," I pointed out, sliding off the desk on unsteady legs. "The whole point was to keep this quiet—"

"Pack a bag." He cut me off, already reaching for his phone. "We're leaving in two hours. Marcus can handle the flight arrangements."

The abrupt command made my spine stiffen. "Excuse me?"