The third paragraph stated we would provide our partner with a willing list. This would detail all the sexual avenues we individually wanted to explore, and gauge our level of mutual interest.
Cold crept over my skin as I skimmed the final paragraph. The proposed partnership was about fucking only. Any discussion of a relationship outside of the sex would nullify the agreement. This meant there’d be no hurt feelings, no messy emotions, and certainly no use of the L word.
Okay. I hated him, right?
So why was I feeling one iota of disappointment? I wasn’t about to enter into this ridiculous agreement, and besides, I’d been foolish enough to fall for him once. I wasn’t going to do it again.
Kyle’s gaze on me was crushing. I pretended not to notice as I turned to the next page. Well, yep. There was no dancing around it with legalese here. The willing list was a menu full of sexual debauchery.
My face heated as I scanned the page. Some of my darkest fantasies were on here. Only . . . “Where are your answers? This is blank.”
Heat flared in his eyes, and my body threatened to turn into liquid. “You want to see my willing list?” He placed his palms on his desk and pushed up to stand. He spoke the words with so much weight, I felt each one pressed against me. “You want to know every dirty little thing I want to do to you?”
I squeezed my knees together. The agreement was no longer in my hands. At some point, it had fallen to the desktop, and now my fingers curled around the armrests of the chair and dug in. He stalked around the desk, coming closer. I wasn’t moving. My gaze never left his. Yet I felt like I was prey fleeing from a predator.
And I’d never make it. I couldn’t outrun him.
The chair creaked as he leaned over and set his hands on the back. It trapped me beneath him, his tie dangling close to my face, and as I forced myself to suck in a breath, I caught the delicious, woodsy scent of his cologne.
“All you have to do,” he said, “is sign.”
“I’m not signing that.” My voice was a ghost.
His was seductive and confident. “Oh, yes, you fucking are.” He dropped his lips to mine, and I was too stunned to move. My body reacted to his soft kiss, and silently protested when he drew back. “You haven’t put ink on it yet, but you will. You told me you would when you asked me to spank you again.”
The muscles in my core contracted at the memory, trying to squeeze back the rush he gave me. “I was drunk.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m not signing it.”
“Bullshit.” He hovered over me, his mouth a breath away and teasing a kiss, all while a smirk rolled on his lips.
“I’m not interested in casual sex.”
“Bull fucking shit, Ruby. Besides, there won’t be anything casual about it.” His expression turned serious. “At this time, I’m not willing to offer more. You don’t want that anyway. You hate me.” His lips sealed over mine, and there was a hint of tongue. His tone was mocking. “Remember?”
“Why?”
He looked thrown. “Why . . . do you hate me?”
“No. Why aren’t you willing to offer more?” I didn’t want a relationship with Kyle either, but I needed to know his motivations.
“Honestly?”
Was honesty possible? I nodded.
He straightened and leaned back against his desk. “We both made mistakes, and neither one of us has forgiven the other.” He folded his arms over his chest and shot me a hard look. “You trust me enough to fuck you, but not enough to date you.”
My mouth fell open, but no noise came out. He was terribly right, but I didn’t love having him point it out. It made me sound ‘bladdy awful,’ as Grant would say. “That’s . . .”
Kyle’s expression was pragmatic. “The truth. I don’t fault you for feeling that way. As I said, we both made mistakes.”
It wasn’t exactly an apology, but hearing him admit fault knocked me sideways. How could he be so rational and logical with the damn partnership agreement sitting right there beside him?
“You told me,” he said, “no one else makes you come like I do. I like that. Let’s keep doing it.”
Oh, good God. I took my hands off the armrests and smoothed my sweaty palms over my skirt. “Kyle.” I rose onto my heels and issued a grateful sigh in my head when I didn’t teeter. I tried to readjust, and steeled my tone. “Mr. McCreary.”