Page 181 of Scandalous Contract

I knocked once. Waited. Knocked again, a little louder. No answer. I knocked a third time, pressing my forehead against the door. Still nothing. Fuck. I wondered if she’d changed the code. Surely, she had.

My fingers hovered over the panel. It wouldn’t hurt to try. I tapped in those four digits I’d memorized the day she first trusted me enough to give them to me. My thumb hovered over theEnterkey.

Please, be the same, and please don’t have the deadbolt locked.

I pressed Enter.Click. The keypad turned green. I sighed as the sound damn near brought tears to my eyes. I pushed the door open and slipped inside, locking it behind me. Now, this, this felt like home. The lights were off and I didn’t hear her moving around.

“Stefanie,” I called out as I disarmed the alarm system, the keypad beeping to let her know her front door had been opened. “It’s me,” I told the machine as I punched in the code, words slurring.

Once I was done, I moved through the house quietly. The living room was empty. So was the kitchen. I headed to her bedroom. The door creaked open as I pushed it and entered the room. There she was, lying on her side.

There was a half-empty bottle of whiskey on her nightstand. Was she trying to drink away the pain like me? She stirred. Damn. I’d woken her up. She rubbed her eyes, then blinked, staring at me. Our gazes met, and she whispered my name.

“Julian.”

That was all it took. All the anger I’d built up, all the frustration from being ignored, gone with one whispered word from the woman I craved so fucking much. She reached for me, arms stretching out like she needed me the way I needed her, and I walked right into that pull like a man possessed.

I kicked off my shoes, peeled off my jacket, and climbed into her bed without a word. I wrapped my arms around her and breathed in her scent. She smelled like home, like heaven, like everything I’d been missing these past weeks. She buried her face in my neck and inhaled me like I was oxygen.

“Happy birthday,” she whispered.

She remembered. That was the only present I needed.

“Sorry, I didn’t get you a present or even a cake,” she told me.

“I don’t want cake. I want a taste of you.”

She pulled back to stare at me. “Taste me then, Julian.”

I didn’t care if it was the liquor. I didn’t care if it was wrong of me to enter her home the way I had. All I cared about was the woman in my arms, the woman whose taste I needed on my tongue. I kissed her deeply, then proceeded to trail kisses down her neck.

“How does it feel to be thirty?” she whispered.

“I don’t know yet. I just turned twenty-nine.”

“Hmmm,” was all she said as I pushed her panties to the side and licked the icing from the only cake I craved.Hers.

That night wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t frantic or wild. That night, we made slow, sweet, passionate love. It waseverything. Her lips on mine. My fingers in her hair. Her legs wrapped around me as she slowly ground against me.

Her lips against my throat as she left her mark on me. My cock buried deep in her pussy until I filled her with my cum. It was perfect. It was what we both needed. I didn’t miss the tears in her eyes. And I wasn’t too drunk to know that I had tears in my eyes also.

We fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms, right where we were supposed to be. Together. But morning arrived, bringing with it a conversation I hadn’t wanted to have. Morning sunlight punched through the curtains, waking me up.

Groaning, I felt around, feeling for Stefanie. The bed beside me was empty. I rubbed my eyes, still dazed from the night before. Then she spoke, and I heard the anger in her voice.

“Julian, wake the fuck up.”

I blinked, propping myself up on my elbow. Stefanie stood at the edge of the bed, holding my clothes in a ball, face twisted with rage.Shit!What had I done now?

“Baby,” I started.

“No. Don’t youbabyme,” she snapped. “You lied to me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You told me you were twenty-nine when we met,” she said, throwing my pants at me. “Last night, you said you were turning twenty-nine.Turning.”

Oh. Shit.