Read Online The Contract (Nightlong #1) by Sarah Michelle Lynch - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sarah Michelle Lynch
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Instead of putting it on, I left the room and stood against the doorframe with my arm raised, hip knocking against the wood.
“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine,” I contested, when I was anything but fine.
I ached in ways I couldn’t even describe.
Ached deep down inside for the touch of him.
He covered his eyes. “Ciara, please.”
“Oh, come on. When you’re not here I roam naked all the time. Why should today be any different?”
He growled. “Because it’s inappropriate.”
Clearly, one of us was seeing things in the cold light-of-day sort of manner.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t got cameras in this place. I wouldn’t put it past you.”
He spread some fingers open and saw I was still naked. “Put something on, Ciara!”
“No. Not until you admit you enjoyed last night.”
“I–” He stopped himself.
I snickered, shaking my head. “Dante Sinclair, lost for words. Can only mean one thing.”
“Yeah… what?”
“Denial.”
“I hate it when you get like this.” He gazed out of the window, avoiding looking at me.
I stared at his profile, observing the wolf cloaked in sheep’s clothing, his frown one of deadly seriousness. Despite the anguish forever etched in his features, I adored his gorgeous, stunning face and strong chin, long nose, ears perfectly flat against his head. He was physical perfection but the rest of him – I worried about.
As my eyes strayed, I noticed the massive bulge in his trousers and slowly, I began sauntering over to where he sat.
“Ciara, no,” he warned, sensing I was drawing close.
“Hush,” I demanded, “I want you. Close your legs.”
I stood before him but he refused to look at me, refused to close his legs.
“You don’t care about me at all, do you?”
“I care,” he growled, a hand muffling his voice as he tried to contain himself.
“You don’t love me?”
“I’m trying to protect you,” he said, his voice low.
“Close your legs or next time it’ll be you I cut open.”
His eyes shot to mine in panic, or shock, I wasn’t sure. I had his attention, at least. Keeping my eyes locked on his, I whispered softly, “Close your legs.”
He did as bade.
I reached out for his shoulders as I lowered onto him, straddling his lap, my shins sinking into the white leather of the chaise either side of his thighs. Getting comfy, I kept my eyes locked on his and slowly lifted my hands to his cool, clean-shaven cheeks.
“I hate you,” I said, every inch of me trembling, the cold light-of-day thing scaring me to death, “because… because I don’t really hate you, but you keep this invisible barrier up between us.”
Rigid as stone, he didn’t move to hold me or kiss me, my nakedness arousing but not inciting him to react. I had to reach out to him through words.
“I’m protecting you.”
“From what, Dante?”
“From me.”
I gulped down my terror. Was he some sort of psychopath?
Shaking my head, I remonstrated, “Bullshit.”
“I’m protecting you, I swear it.”
I took a deep breath and leaned in, pressing my lips to his. It was a soft, sweet kiss that I would remember forever. My whole being shook. His lips were full and softer than I ever imagined a man’s lips could be.
Panting as I pulled back, my hands shaking on his face, I kept my eyes closed.
“If you’re protecting me, then why does this hurt so much? Tell me.”
“You tell me, Ciara. You tell me.”
My eyes flew open when his warm fingertips touched my throat, his hands resting lightly around my neck. He stared into my eyes and I whispered, “I love you.”
He searched my face, seeking a lie. I put my hands over his and put them on my breasts. Tossing my head back, I moaned and mumbled, “Love me back, or let me go.”
“I should… get going. To work.”
The moment spoiled, I could hardly look at him. I turned my head to the side, my eyes firmly shut. I sat in his lap naked, utterly exposed and vulnerable, and all he could think about was
“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine,” I contested, when I was anything but fine.
I ached in ways I couldn’t even describe.
Ached deep down inside for the touch of him.
He covered his eyes. “Ciara, please.”
“Oh, come on. When you’re not here I roam naked all the time. Why should today be any different?”
He growled. “Because it’s inappropriate.”
Clearly, one of us was seeing things in the cold light-of-day sort of manner.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t got cameras in this place. I wouldn’t put it past you.”
He spread some fingers open and saw I was still naked. “Put something on, Ciara!”
“No. Not until you admit you enjoyed last night.”
“I–” He stopped himself.
I snickered, shaking my head. “Dante Sinclair, lost for words. Can only mean one thing.”
“Yeah… what?”
“Denial.”
“I hate it when you get like this.” He gazed out of the window, avoiding looking at me.
I stared at his profile, observing the wolf cloaked in sheep’s clothing, his frown one of deadly seriousness. Despite the anguish forever etched in his features, I adored his gorgeous, stunning face and strong chin, long nose, ears perfectly flat against his head. He was physical perfection but the rest of him – I worried about.
As my eyes strayed, I noticed the massive bulge in his trousers and slowly, I began sauntering over to where he sat.
“Ciara, no,” he warned, sensing I was drawing close.
“Hush,” I demanded, “I want you. Close your legs.”
I stood before him but he refused to look at me, refused to close his legs.
“You don’t care about me at all, do you?”
“I care,” he growled, a hand muffling his voice as he tried to contain himself.
“You don’t love me?”
“I’m trying to protect you,” he said, his voice low.
“Close your legs or next time it’ll be you I cut open.”
His eyes shot to mine in panic, or shock, I wasn’t sure. I had his attention, at least. Keeping my eyes locked on his, I whispered softly, “Close your legs.”
He did as bade.
I reached out for his shoulders as I lowered onto him, straddling his lap, my shins sinking into the white leather of the chaise either side of his thighs. Getting comfy, I kept my eyes locked on his and slowly lifted my hands to his cool, clean-shaven cheeks.
“I hate you,” I said, every inch of me trembling, the cold light-of-day thing scaring me to death, “because… because I don’t really hate you, but you keep this invisible barrier up between us.”
Rigid as stone, he didn’t move to hold me or kiss me, my nakedness arousing but not inciting him to react. I had to reach out to him through words.
“I’m protecting you.”
“From what, Dante?”
“From me.”
I gulped down my terror. Was he some sort of psychopath?
Shaking my head, I remonstrated, “Bullshit.”
“I’m protecting you, I swear it.”
I took a deep breath and leaned in, pressing my lips to his. It was a soft, sweet kiss that I would remember forever. My whole being shook. His lips were full and softer than I ever imagined a man’s lips could be.
Panting as I pulled back, my hands shaking on his face, I kept my eyes closed.
“If you’re protecting me, then why does this hurt so much? Tell me.”
“You tell me, Ciara. You tell me.”
My eyes flew open when his warm fingertips touched my throat, his hands resting lightly around my neck. He stared into my eyes and I whispered, “I love you.”
He searched my face, seeking a lie. I put my hands over his and put them on my breasts. Tossing my head back, I moaned and mumbled, “Love me back, or let me go.”
“I should… get going. To work.”
The moment spoiled, I could hardly look at him. I turned my head to the side, my eyes firmly shut. I sat in his lap naked, utterly exposed and vulnerable, and all he could think about was
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