The Contract

by Stella Gray

  Our bungalow sits at the edge of a private grove, with its own beach access. Despite this being a resort town, all is quiet. As I take a deep breath of night air, I feel completely content.

  Anyone who tells you money can’t buy happiness is wrong. I’m not saying there aren’t other ways to be happy—just that a luxury beach vacation can really go a long way.

  Luka unbuttons his shirt with one hand and lets it fall open. I slide my hungry gaze over to the smooth expanse of skin and muscle that appears as the fabric separates.

  “Big news tonight, huh?” I ask, trying to keep from throwing myself at him.

  “I’m really happy for them,” Luka says. “I never pictured my brother with kids, but…I guess that was before.”

  “Before?” I prompt when he doesn’t elaborate.

  His gaze flicks to mine as he pulls away and shrugs off his shirt, making my breath catch in my throat. “Before he had a wife that changed his life.”

  I don’t know what makes my heart rush harder—his words or the sight of his naked torso. My brain wants to believe that his words are meant for me, but I’ve learned that I can’t read too much into anything that Luka says.

  “They’ll be great parents.” I keep it neutral. Things are going so well right now that I don’t want to screw it up. “You know, I’ve been wanting to tell you something, too.”

  His brows shoot up, and it makes me laugh. Judging by his suspicious expression, he’s probably expecting me to say that I’m also expecting.

  “I’m not pregnant,” I say quickly. “It’s not that.”

  He visibly relaxes. “Okay. That might be a lot for one night.”

  Not that we can’t practice. I almost say it. We’ve been in paradise for over forty-eight hours and I’ve yet to get fucked by my hot, built, sex-god of a husband. My attention is drawn down as he kicks off his shoes and sinks into an overstuffed outdoor chair. There’s a fancy stone fire pit, a chaise, another cushy chair, and a coffee table out here. Electric torches on poles provide spots of illumination around the perimeter of the privacy fence. With the flick of a button, Luka turns on the fire pit. Flames rise in a line across the top, flaring blue and yellow.

  Closing his eyes, Luka stretches his long, toned legs and props them up on the edge of the coffee table. “What did you want to tell me?”

  There’s no way I can resist him like this. He’s a full-on treat with his body long and lean like this, the fine hair on his lower abdomen pointing like an arrow straight down the front of his shorts. Throwing my reservations to the side, I saunter over to him to nudge his ankle with my foot. He opens his eyes, sets his feet back on the ground, and looks up at me.

  Without taking my gaze from his, I slowly lower myself onto the chair, straddling his lap so we’re face to face. There’s just enough room for us to sit like this, but Luka still wraps his hands around my hips to keep me balanced.

  “I, um, wanted to thank you, actually,” I say.

  His eyes go dark and curious. “I can’t imagine what you’d want to thank me for.”

  I smooth back a curl of his hair that peeks behind his ear. “A few things. You’re working really hard to get me in on the Maxilene campaign. I know it’s partly because it will be good for DRM, but I also know you’re trying to help me reach my goals. So thank you for the support.”

  “You’re welcome. I know I’ve kept your career on a tight leash, and I’ll be easing up on that.” He takes a breath, and then adds, “I can see in hindsight that it wasn’t in your best interest. I was just pulling a power trip. But I want you to be successful, and not stand in your way.”

  I nod, stunned that he’s admitting this to me and also pledging to make changes going forward. He shifts a little beneath me, and I feel his cock press into my inner thigh.

  “I also wanted to thank you for agreeing to get Mr. Kibbles,” I go on. “He’s a great dog, and it really makes me happy to have him around the house.”

  “To be honest, he makes me happy too,” Luka admits. “I never thought I’d say that. Sorry about all the shoes and underwear he’s destroyed so far.”

  We both laugh.

  Just then, he reaches for the strap of my dress. I pull back to see what caught his attention, a little shiver going through me when I realize what it is. His mother’s brooch.

  He traces the starburst rays carefully, all nine of them. I’ve been wearing the brooch the entire night, but he probably didn’t notice since I had my shawl draped over my shoulders against the night breeze for most of the evening.

  “I’m not done yet,” I say.

  He looks at me and waits. I’m not sure how to say this, so I just start talking, hoping my words come out right.

  “When Elite approached me, I was in a dark place. I wasn’t getting anywhere with my career in LA like I’d planned, and I was looking into colleges but I just felt…lost. Desperate. Like I was a complete failure. I thought I had no way out, and they offered me one. So I said I’d try. That was all I ever actually agreed to—to go to Chicago and try to get in with the agency.”

  He stiffens a bit and I’m afraid he’s going to try to get up and leave, but he doesn’t.

  “But once I reconnected with you, I started to have doubts about going through with the plan. The reason I never signed that contract was because it never felt right. And I regret very much that I even considered their offer, Luka, but at the same time I wouldn’t trade meeting and marrying you for anything, even if my initial motives were suspect.

  “I never expected that getting engaged to you, and then married, would account for anything beyond a business decision. But it has. When I walked down that aisle, I knew right away that I didn’t want anything to do with Elite or their plans. I’m so sorry that I hurt you.”

  His hands go tighter on my hips, and he searches my face as if trying to gauge my sincerity. I want to assure him that I’m being truthful, but I feel like I’ve said all that I can.

  Cupping his face in my hands, I add, “I feel so close to your family, especially after dinner tonight. They’ve welcomed me in with open arms, which I honestly never expected. Maybe everyone…I don’t know. Maybe you’re all finding a way to reconnect in a new way, without your father’s shadow.”

  He’s quiet for a moment, and I let him go, worrying that I’ve overstepped.

  “Should I not have said that?” I ask.

  Luka breaks into a wistful smile. “I think you might be right,” he says, pulling me toward him to brush his lips gently across mine.

  I don’t say it out loud, but there’s something else, too: I almost feel like that heart-wrenching interview Luka and I did with Julia was a self-fulfilling prophecy.

  Leaning back, he catches my gaze. “I meant what I said earlier tonight, Brooklyn.”

  My lips are tingling from the slight pressure he put on them, and I’m dying for more. So much more. I lean in, wetting my lips with my tongue. “Good,” I say. “Now show me.”

  He takes my lips sweetly again, agonizingly slow. I open my mouth wide, stroking my tongue against his, giving this kiss all the time in the world to build in intensity. My head begins to swim in that perfect kiss-drunk swirl and I welcome it. It’s been so long since we’ve had a tender moment between us. My nipples are hard, aching against the whispery silk of my dress.

  “Touch me,” I beg in a whisper. “I need you to.”

  With a slight groan, Luka trails his fingers up my sides and down my bare arms. I moan and shiver at the contact. Then he pulls me sideways into his arms and leans over me, deepening the kiss. Threading my fingers into his hair, I rake my nails along his scalp, letting myself fall into this moment. He shifts, and suddenly I’m being carried over to the chaise lounge on the other side of the fire pit, where he lays me down on the soft cushions.

  Goosebumps run down my body despite the delicious heat from the nearby flames. Reaching for him again, I melt into his searing kiss and sit up as he gently tugs my dress over my head, leaving me in nothing but m
y bikini bottoms. He pulls me into his lap, and the moment his hard chest connects with my bare skin, all is right again.

  He trails kisses down the side of my neck, slowly and softly, and I arch into him.

  “Mmm,” I moan.

  The feeling is exquisite, making my whole body feel electric and alive. He continues down to the hollow in my throat and up the other side of my neck, caressing me the whole time. It’s all so soft and tender that I can feel a tumult of emotions welling up inside my chest. Luka finally urges me back onto the chaise, and I relax into it. I’m breathless with anticipation and have a hard time staying still while he slips his shorts down. Gloriously naked in the firelight, my husband smiles down at me and then crawls over my body, kneeling between my legs. His strong palms run along my thighs, his nails lightly raking my flesh.

  “I’m sorry about Paris,” he says.

  “Forget Paris,” I tell him, dragging him down for another kiss.

  The fire crackles beside us, the sound of the waves gentle in the background. Luka puts his hands everywhere, my jaw, my throat, my breasts, squeezing my nipples until I cry out against his mouth, dipping a finger inside me and then tracing it back up around my clit in endless circles that soon have me slick and panting for him.

  “I want you,” I tell him.

  He teases me for a while longer, kneading between my legs until the ache is too powerful. Parting my thighs as wide as I can, I gasp as he slips two fingers inside me and begins slowly pumping in and out, groaning as he feels how wet and ready I am.

  I run my hands over his hard, sculpted torso, moaning his name as I grind my hips, fucking his strong, thick fingers. Everything is so unrushed. So good. So quiet yet passionate. He takes his sweet, sweet time working my body, pinning me with a kiss that doesn’t end while his masterful hands bring me right to the edge of an orgasm.

  “Luka, please, please,” I whimper.

  He moans and lightens his touch.

  “I forgot how good it sounds when you beg,” he says.

  Squeezing his shoulder, I squirm, but he doesn’t let me get there. “You’re teasing me.”

  “Hell yes I am.”

  I laugh. “Well, stop!”

  A soft laugh wells from deep in his throat. It’s agonizing and I have to resist grabbing his hand and forcing him to finish me off. My plea only seems to encourage him to kiss me more slowly, to trail his lips to my breasts where he takes my nipples into his hot mouth one at a time and gently sucks them while continuing his agonizing torture between my legs.

  I stop fighting and relax at his languid pace. He’s taking his time, worshipping me.

  Making love to me.

  My scalp tingles with the realization that he’s giving me exactly what I’ve been longing for. The sweet, passionate lovemaking we missed on our honeymoon—and the intimacy we’ve struggled to maintain ever since.

  I ride the rim of release, my breath coming faster and harder as I try to hold back. Suddenly, his thick cock slides into me. My legs wrap around his firm ass, the feel of him stretching and filling me pushing me into a pleasure spiral. Whispering his name, I buck my hips as I come, taking him as deep as I can, my pussy clenching around him in sweet, tight contractions. “Oh my God,” I moan, over and over. I’m incapable of further speech.

  Rolling me on top of him, he goes still, letting me ride out the last waves of sensation. I can hardly see straight as I look down at him, but I notice that he’s staring at me so intently, so tenderly, that my heart skips a beat. I kiss him, claiming him as he starts to move inside me, thrusting up with soft groans of satisfaction. He takes his time, hands tight on my hips, and we soon find a rhythm that has both of us gasping and clinging to the other as tightly as we can.

  Another heady orgasm builds just as my heart swells with the reminder that I am very much in love with my husband. Maybe he isn’t saying the words, but he doesn’t have to.

  “Come inside me,” I whisper.

  “Fuck yeah,” he gasps, his body going tense.

  We hold each other as we climax in tandem, riding the crest together. We’re moaning, breathless, lost inside the pleasure as the island breeze cools the sweat on our skin. I’m still coming down, feeling the tingles radiating through my body, as he pulls me down against his chest. I can hear his heart beating against my ear, strong and sure, and I smile as my eyes close.

  This time, it feels like he’s the one who’s never letting go.

  Brooklyn

  Chapter 27

  As I spin across the dance floor in my husband’s arms, another woman tries to cut in with a light tap on my shoulder and a saucy grin. Instead of yielding, I block her with a polite yet venomous stare and a firm shake of my head.

  I only just got Luka back and I’m not about to let him go, especially to some sassy young thing in a shimmery Hervé Léger bandage dress that looks like it was painted onto her body.

  Tonight is a big deal. Danica Rose Management is co-hosting the black-tie event during which the model chosen as the next face of Maxilene—for the company’s biggest worldwide modeling campaign to date—will be announced. There are press and media people everywhere, models galore, and tons of bigwigs in the industry, all in fancy dress. And the menu is enough to make your head spin. Extravagant bespoke cocktails designed just for this party, with names like “Six-two in heels” and “The Gaultier,” gourmet hors d’oeuvres dusted in shaved truffles and gold leaf, and a variety of voices (and accents) shouting so loud to be heard over the music that I can’t believe anyone can carry on a conversation.

  It’s fun to be here on the arm of someone so important, though. Even more fun to be the only one Luka takes out on the dance floor. I do love dancing. Unfortunately, I can barely keep up. My anxiety is so bad that I may as well have two left feet.

  I’ve tried my best to remain calm since we returned from the Bahamas, knowing this day was rapidly approaching, but nothing has stopped me from losing major sleep over it. The worst part is, I know Luka has to have some insider information…but he won’t share it with me.

  Begging and pleading has gotten me nowhere. My husband just holds up his hands, insisting that Guy hasn’t made any decisions yet but that I’m at the top of the running. Not helpful. Especially considering the fact that I’m up against some majorly famous faces that are far more established on the scene than I am. But maybe being a “fresh face” gives me an edge.

  I hope so.

  Despite his tight lips, Luka has done a great job distracting me at home. I was worried that once we got back to the real world, we’d go right back to fighting and angry sex and overall aggressive vibes at home. But it hasn’t been like that at all. In fact, things have been better than ever, and even though we haven’t verbally declared any feelings for each other, I can feel we’re closer now. We try to eat dinner together, we have movie nights, and we hold hands when we take Kibs out for his evening walk together.

  We still have conflict sometimes, of course, but we try to talk it out now, and sometimes we can actually find a resolution. Other times, we just have to agree to disagree.

  Another change: I’ve moved into his bedroom. Not officially—all of my stuff is still in the spare room—but most mornings that’s where I wake up, with one of his arms draped around me. We’re still finding our way together, but it seems like we’re on the right track. Like this is the version of us that we were always meant to be.

  Luka nuzzles my ear and tightens his arm around my lower back. “You’re always beautiful, but you really outdid yourself tonight.”

  I let out a shy laugh. “Comes with the territory, I guess.”

  Truth is, I had to work hard to re-volumize my hair and get the flush off my face from the amazing sex we had an hour before it was time to get here. Thank goodness for hot rollers and powder foundation. My little black dress has a scoop in the back that dips halfway down my back and is trimmed in tiny silver beads. The front is modest but off-the-shoulder, and I accessorized with the sunburst brooch
Luka gifted me.

  He spins me with a questioning look, as if he knows how jacked up my nerves still are. I wish we had time for a quickie in the coat closet, but even though he looks divine in his Armani tux, I’m so worried about the campaign reveal that I probably wouldn’t be able to get in the mood. My brain is completely consumed. I try to force a smile, and that’s the tipping point.

  “You look tense,” Luka says softly.

  I keep my voice intimately low. “I can’t take it anymore. I have to know how this is going to go. Can’t you just give me a teeny tiny hint if I got it? How about a simple yes or no?”

  That’s the other thing driving me batty—Luka is the one who’ll be opening the envelope at the end of the evening and publicly announcing the name of the model who will be the next face of Maxilene. He has to know something by now.

  “I’m amazed it took you so long to ask.” He spins me again, then pulls me in and plants a kiss on my jawline so he won’t muss my makeup. “Patience, Brooklyn. We have to wait it out.”

  There’s a flash of light beside us as a photographer takes a picture. As we’ve done off and on all night, we pause in our dance to turn and smile for the camera. We had our picture taken by the backdrop earlier and it was all I could do not to fidget. I know we looked good, though. Just like a happy, successful couple in a glossy magazine should look.

  Luka’s been getting waved down and pulled away most of the evening by industry professionals wanting to chat or get a picture with him. It makes me feel proud to be his partner. All those things his family said about him at his birthday dinner are true. Luka pulled himself out of a hole and completely changed his life. And it’s paying off.

  “Remember what I said?” He moves us to a more intimate corner of the dance floor. “Guy’s seen your portfolio, video of live shoots, complete spreads with you front and center. He even agreed when I told him that you’d be perfect for this campaign. I did everything humanly possible to get you in his good graces.”