Liam Devereux
I lost control. Completely.
There was no logic, no restraint—just the overwhelming pull of her. The moment my lips met hers, everything else faded. I didn’t think about Vanessa. I didn’t think about the past or the consequences. All I could focus on was Sophie—her warmth, the way she responded to me when I led her to the bedroom, the way she didn’t push me away.
As I deepened the kiss, I half expected her to pull back, to remind me that this was just an arrangement. But she didn’t. Instead, she leaned into me, her hands gripping my shirt, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted more.
I tightened my hold on her waist, pulling her even closer. The taste of her sent a rush of something wild through me—something dangerous, something I hadn’t felt in a long time. My fingers traced slow, deliberate lines down her back, memorizing the way her body fit against mine.
And I didn’t stop.
I couldn’t.
Not when she pulled me closer, not when her body pressed against mine, not when the heat between us became unbearable.
Everything else—the contract, the past, Vanessa—blurred into nothing.
By the time it was over, the room was silent, save for the sound of our breathing. The sheets tangled around us, warm and damp with the remnants of what had just happened.
Sophie lay beside me, her skin still flushed, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the curve of my shoulder. She wasn’t looking at me, not directly. Instead, she stared at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling in slow, uneven breaths.
Then, softly, she said, “This… isn’t in the contract.”
I turned my head to look at her, meeting her gaze in the dim light.
“And yet here we are,” I murmured, my voice rough with exhaustion.
She hesitated, her fingers stilling against my skin.
“Liam…” she started, her voice quieter now. “Why did you leave me?”
I didn’t answer.
I couldn’t.
Because before she could say anything else—before I could force myself to deal with what she was asking—sleep had already pulled me under.