"Screw the deal." I cup her face, making her look at me. "I'm not talking about the deal. I'm talking about this. Us. Whathappens in this hallway when nobody's watching and we don't have to pretend."
"There is no us," she whispers, but her hand comes up to cover mine, holding it against her cheek. Her skin is warm, soft, and I can feel the slight tremble in her fingers. "There can't be."
"Why not?"
"Because,” her voice breaks. "Because in one year, this ends. You go your way, and I go mine. That was the agreement. That was safe."
"And the contract in there?" I nod toward the dining room. "That's not safe?"
"No," she admits. "It's not. Because it means we're tied together after. And I don't…" She closes her eyes. "I don't know how to want something I can't keep."
"Who says you can't keep it?"
Her eyes open, locking onto mine, and God, I hate the fear I see in them. That raw vulnerability she tries so hard to hide. It's that hate, that desperate need to erase it, that has me pressing on.
"I can't promise it will be easy," I say, brushing my thumb across her cheek. She leans into the touch almost unconsciously. "I've never done this, never had what I feel for you with anyone else. All I know is I don't want it to go away." Her eyes soften, and that wall she keeps between us cracks just slightly. "I want to try something." My other hand finds her waist, and she doesn't pull away. Doesn't run. My eyes search hers, looking for permission, for any sign I should stop. "Tell me I can."
She nods, barely perceptible, and that's all I need.
I close the distance between us, my hand sliding from her cheek to tangle in her hair. She rises on her toes to meet me halfway, and when our lips connect, it's like something inside me ignites. This isn't like the careful kisses we've shared before, theones we could blame on the act, on maintaining appearances. This is raw, and honest, and completely us.
She hums softly as her hands slide around my waist, sending delicious tendrils of heat straight to my cock as she pulls me closer. I back her against the wall, my body pressing against hers, and she opens for me, deepening the kiss until I forget where I end and she begins. She tastes like the sweet chutney from the samosas and wine, and I want to drown in it.
Her fingers dig into my hips, and I swallow the gasp that escapes her when my thumbs brush over the bare skin where her shirt has ridden up slightly. Heat radiates between us, and I can feel her heart hammering against my chest, matching the wild rhythm of my own. I want more. Want everything. Want to lift her up, feel her legs wrap around me, find out if she makes those same sounds when… No. I force myself to break away, resting my forehead against hers as we both struggle to breathe. My hands are still on her waist, her fingers still tangled in my hair, neither of us willing to let go completely.
"If you can tell me you felt nothing," I manage, my voice rough, "that that kiss isn't worth the risk, we'll go in there and remove your name."
She's quiet, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her lips swollen and parted. I can see her trying to regain her bearings, trying to rebuild that wall. Her eyes are dazed, unfocused, and I know she felt every second of the passion we just shared. I can still taste her on my lips, still feel the phantom pressure of her body against mine.
But she doesn't comment on the kiss, doesn't acknowledge what just happened between us.
I wouldn't expect anything else from her. This is who Asha is: brilliant, complicated, terrified of vulnerability. She can't just shut that off, can't suddenly become someone who wears her heart on her sleeve just because I kissed her senseless ina hallway. But little by little, she's trying. Little by little, I'm breaking down those walls, and each time I do, they might go back up, but they aren't as tall. I can see it in the way her hand still hovers near her lips, like she can't quite believe what just happened. In the way she hasn't stepped away from me yet, hasn't put the safe distance between us that she usually would. Progress. It's progress.
Instead, in true Asha form, she focuses on the contract. "I have one condition." Her voice is steadier than I expected, though I can still hear the breathlessness underneath. "One condition, and I'll keep my name on that contract."
"Name it, sweetheart." I'm still close enough that I could kiss her again. Part of me wants to. Part of me knows if I do, we won't make it back to that dining room.
"No killing bulls." She swallows, and I watch the wheels turn behind her eyes. "What I saw the other day, with you in that pen…" She trails off, and there's real fear in her eyes now. A different kind. I know what she thought was going to happen, and after she automatically assumed the worst, I didn't correct her. "I never want to see that at home. These are their traditions. I don't want my name tied to that."
"Done." The answer comes easily. I'd agree to anything right now if it means keeping her close, keeping her name next to mine on that contract.
She slips under my arm, breaking our connection, and reaches for the door handle. Her hand trembles slightly as she grips it.
"Oh, and Asha?" I say, my voice low.
She glances back, her hair slightly mussed from my fingers, her lips still red from our kiss.
"It'sourname."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
TRIGGER
"Yes, just like that, sweetheart," I say as my cock throbs in need of release. It's been too damn long since a hand other than my own has stroked it. Her hands are sliding slowly down my chest.
"Is this what you want?" she whispers against my neck, her breath warm, her body pressed against mine in the darkness of our room.
I can't speak. I can only feel her fingers tracing the lines of my abdomen, her mouth on my jaw, my throat. My hand tangles in her dark-brown locks, her scent wraps around me, and I thrust against her hand.
