The Marriage Contract by Natasha Black (best novels ever .TXT) 📗

seeing him in the towel when I came over and how the desire to see him, to feel him, had been burning so brightly ever since then.

I reached down and grasped at his crotch, finding his cock pressing up against the fabric and yearning to be let free. He groaned in my ear, and I thought I would turn to putty right there on his couch. His lips moved down to my chest, and he pulled my shirt up to reveal my breasts. I snaked my hand in his hair while his mouth settled over one of my nipples and sucked. His fingers were working on the button of my jeans and had gotten them open.

As I wiggled to let him pull them down, my mind raced, two opposing forces clashing together. Responsibility versus passion. Craving versus careful planning. Fingers slipped under the waistband of my panties and began to pull.

I reached down and put my hand over his. He stopped abruptly and looked up into my eyes. I wanted so badly to tell him to continue, to rip my clothes off and fuck me. But I couldn’t. I shouldn’t.

“We can’t do this,” I said. “Sex is only going to make things much messier. I should go.”

“You’re right,” he said, sitting up. I could tell he was disappointed, but he agreed. He stood and grabbed the glasses, bringing them back into the kitchen. “I’m sorry,” he said when he came back.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” I said. “We just can’t do this and keep our story straight. I’ll grab a rideshare and head back. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I placed a kiss on his cheek and walked away quickly, adjusting my shirt and making sure I looked halfway presentable as I pulled up my phone and shut the door behind me before I could stop myself.

15

Matt

I couldn’t get Chloe off my mind. Specifically, I couldn’t get just how close I’d come to burying myself inside her.

Everything had been going so well. Talking turned into drinks, which turned into more talking and more drinks, which turned into kissing and clothes being ripped off. But before I could get either one of us naked, she stopped me. She said it would only make things messier. More complicated.

And she was right.

That was the worst part. I knew she wanted it, too, but she was right. We could kiss and hug and flirt, make ourselves look like a couple as much as we wanted, but if we wanted to be able to pull this off and not have anyone get hurt, we had to keep sex off the table. As much as I hated that, it was absolutely the right call, and I didn’t fault her for her position on it.

As soon as she left, I was a mess of conflicting emotions. I wanted to just go service myself and go to sleep, but I was upset at how far I had let it get without coming to the same conclusion she had. I almost ruined everything, including any shot at a real friendship that was becoming more and more interesting. I needed to keep my cool and make sure that from that point forward I didn’t let it get too far.

It was an act between two people who mutually benefited from it and who wanted to remain friends when it was all over. Those were the rules. Everyone wins, no one gets hurt.

Falling asleep mostly drunk on my couch, having finished what remained of the whiskey, I woke up around noon and stumbled toward the bed. I had to be at work by four and had no intention of showing up early. Getting into my actual bed, I curled up with a pillow and went right back to the dreams I had tenuously held on to. When I woke up, I could barely remember them anymore, but there was one thing I knew for certain about them.

The star of the show was Chloe Beckett.

I stumbled into the shower and stood there under the water for a long time. I suddenly wished I had just brought the coffee maker into the bathroom so I could make a cup and drink it right there. Other people had shower beers; I wanted shower coffee. Eventually, my hunger and need for caffeine outweighed the desire to just stay in the warmth of the shower, and I got out. A couple of cups of coffee and a sandwich later, and I was on my way to work.

I made eye contact with Chloe when I walked in, but we didn’t immediately run for each other. She was in the middle of serving a customer, and I was running a few minutes late. I ducked into the kitchen, washed my hands, and started working on prep stuff, rushing to catch up a bit. Occasionally, I looked up through the service window and could catch glimpses of Chloe working tables.

In the middle of chopping an onion, I took a break for the sake of my eyes and walked to the sink to wash off my hands and knife. It brought me right by the service window, and I looked out at an angle I didn’t normally see, one that showed the far corner of the booth tables. Chloe was standing at the end of the booth, her order book in her hand but down by her side. Her other hand was twirling her hair. One foot was propped up on the toes and was twisting back and forth.

She laughed at something apparently funny and reached down with her free hand to touch the shoulder of the guy there. He smiled at her in a way that suggested he had said something that could be taken more than one way. Then he winked. Chloe playfully slapped him on the arm and walked away, but her hips wiggled a little more than normal.

I looked away.

Jealousy coursed through my veins, and I didn’t know why. I had to let