Chapter 232
Madison
The crystal dish felt cool against my fingers as I settled onto the couch, maintaining a respectable distance that Alexander immediately eliminated by sliding closer.
“Crème brûlée,” he said, eyeing the dessert. “Perfect, hard exterior hiding a soft, yielding center.” His eyes flicked up to mine. “Reminds me of someone.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult,” I replied, tapping the caramelized sugar with my spoon. The satisfying crack echoed between us.
“Definitely a compliment.” His hand found my knee again, warm and possessive. “I enjoy breaking through your professional shell, Madison.”
I scooped up some of the custard, deliberately ignoring his wandering fingers. “I’m sure you say that to all your assistants.”
“Only the ones I fuck on my office desk.” His smile was wicked. “Which, incidentally, is just you.
“I feel so special,” I deadpanned, though my body betrayed me with a flush of heat.
“You should. Do you know how many women would kill to be in your position right now?”
“Based on Caroline’s behavior tonight? At least one.”
His fingers tightened slightly on my thigh. “Jealousy looks good on you.”
“I’m not-”
“Don’t lie,” he interrupted, his voice dropping lower. “Your eyes went cold every time she touched me. It was fucking hot.”
I stabbed at the dessert, breaking through another section of caramelized sugar with unnecessary force. “I don’t like people touching what’s mine.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them. Alexander’s eyes darkened instantly, his pupils dilating.
“Yours?” he repeated, voice rough.
I lifted my chin. “For the next few months, yes. Our arrangement is exclusive. That makes you mine during that time.”
A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. “And you’re mine.”
“That’s the agreement.”
He took the dessert from my hands, placing it on the coffee table before turning back to me. “Say it.”
“Say what?”
His hand slid higher on my thigh, bunching the fabric of my dress. “Say you’re mine.”
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My breath caught. “I’m yours. For now.”
Something flashed in his eyes at those last two words – frustration? Disappointment? It disappeared too quickly to identify.
“For now,” he agreed, his thumb tracing circles on my inner thigh. “Though I’m starting to think our arrangement might need… adjustments.”
“What kind of adjustments?”
Instead of answering, he reached for the chocolate cake, scooping up some of the molten center with his finger. Before I could process what he was doing, he traced the chocolate across my bottom lip.
“Open,” he commanded.
I parted my lips, allowing him to slide his chocolate–covered finger into my mouth. The rich sweetness bloomed on my tongue as I instinctively sucked the digit clean. Alexander’s eyes blazed as he watched my lips work around his finger.
“Fuck,” he muttered, withdrawing slowly. “The things your mouth does to me.”
“It’s just dessert,” I said innocently, licking my lips.
“It’s never just anything with you.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against my face. “Even something as simple as eating becomes an exercise in self–control when I’m with you.”
“Poor Mr. Knight,” I teased. “Is your legendary restraint finally meeting its match?”
His hand moved higher, fingers brushing against the edge of my panties. “You have no idea how close I am to bending you over this table right now.”
My body responded instantly, a rush of wetness dampening the thin fabric beneath his exploring fingers. His eyes darkened when he felt it.
“Already soaked,” he observed. “All I have to do is talk about fucking you, and your pussy gets wet for me.”
I should have been embarrassed by how easily he could read my body’s responses, but instead, I felt powerful. This man,
who could have anyone, wanted me with an intensity that matched my own desperate need for him.
“Maybe I just really like dessert.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Madison Harper.” His fingers pressed more firmly against my center. “Your body always tells the truth.”
The storm outside intensified, rain lashing against the windows as thunder rumbled in the distance. The lights flickered once, twice, before steadying again.
“Sounds like we might lose power,” I observed, grateful for the momentary distraction.
“Would that frighten you? Being alone with me in the dark?”
“No,” I answered honestly. “Should it?”
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“Most people find me intimidating.”
“Most people haven’t seen you panic over a coffee stain on your favorite tie.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That was imported Italian silk.”
“It was adorable,” I countered. “The great Alexander Knight, brought low by a splash of Colombian roast.”
His fingers pinched my inner thigh, making me yelp. “Careful, Ms. Harper. I might need to remind you who’s in charge here.”
“By all means, Mr. Knight,” I challenged, surprising myself with my boldness. “Remind me.”
Lightning flashed, illuminating the hunger in his eyes. For a moment, I thought he might pounce, but instead, he reached for his wine glass, taking a deliberate sip.
“All in good time,” he promised, voice like velvet wrapped around steel.
I raised an eyebrow, setting my wine glass on the table. “You still haven’t answered my question about what kind of adjustments you were thinking of.”
Alexander’s eyes darkened as his fingers traced lazy circles on my thigh. “I’ve been considering extending our arrangement beyond the one–year mark.”
“We’ve been through this before,” I said, shifting away slightly. “I already told you no.”
“Three times, to be exact.” He moved closer, eliminating the distance I’d created. “Yet here I am, asking again.”
“And here I am, still not agreeing.” I crossed my legs, forcing his hand away. “I can’t accept that.”
“Why not?” His question was simple but loaded with tension.
I couldn’t tell him the real reason. I couldn’t admit that every touch, every kiss, every night spent in his bed was becoming more than just physical for me. That I was starting to crave his smile as much as his body.
“Because arrangements have expiration dates for a reason,” I said instead. “They prevent complications.”
What I wanted to scream was: Because I’m falling for you, you arrogant asshole. Because I want more than to be your contractual fuck buddy. Because every time you touch me, I forget this is just business to you.
“Complications?” He reached for a lock of my hair, twirling it between his fingers. “Like feelings?”
My heart stuttered. “Like expectations that can’t be met.
His eyes searched mine for a moment before he nodded, letting the subject drop. “You know, you don’t have to call me Mr. Knight when we’re alone.”
The abrupt change of topic caught me off guard. “What?”
“You still call me Mr. Knight in private. It’s not necessary.”
I blinked, processing this new information. Why was he bringing this up now? We’d been sleeping together for weeks, and he’d never mentioned it before. Did he want more intimacy? Less formality? Or was this just another
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way to assert control?
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
