Page 71 of The Arrangement

“And I warned you that I was going to spoil you.”

I hold up a finger. “Okay, yes, but?—”

“You’re only my EA at work. I don’t want to hear a word about the office when we’re not in the office. I’m aware that you haven’t signed a prenup. It’s slightly offensive that you think I’ve forgotten. Also, you aren’t giving me the ring back, as I’ll spend my money any way I damn well please, and I expect you to spend it on whatever pleases you, too.”

My eyes widen.Has this man lost his mind? “I think you’re just really horny right now and aren’t thinking clearly.”

“Have you ever known me to be clouded by emotion and misspeak?”

“Not once,” I whisper, my insides quivering at the look he’s giving me.

He leans closer, the intensity in his stare causing my heart to pound. My mouth to go dry. My thighs to clench.

“You’re Mrs. Brewer,” he says, the words brushing against my lips. “Act like it.”

Oh, fuck.

His smirk sets off a combustion inside me—a wild desperation for this man.

Jason’s mouth finds mine, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip. Each pinch has me squirming, panting—ready to beg for more.

“Do you want to know my biggest problem with you?” he asks, pressing kisses across my jaw and down my throat.

I tip my head back and wind my fingers through his hair. “Not really.”

He chuckles against my throat. The sound reverberates through me and gathers in my core.

“My biggest problem is that I don’t know where to start.” He loops his thumbs into the sleeves of my dress and slips them down my shoulders. “I want all of you all at once.”

I pull my arms out of my dress. Jason shoves it down until it pools at my waist, the air washing against my exposed nipples.

His mouth’s on mine once again. Our kisses grow hurriedly.Frantic. His tongue dances with mine as I fiddle with his belt.

“You could’ve done me a favor,” I breathe between kisses. “And not worn this stupid belt. I didn’t wear panties to make this easy for you.”

“Fuck,” he mutters between my lips, sliding his hands up my thighs.

His palms are rough. The pressure from his fingertips sear into my skin. The contact has my breath stuttering as he inches closer to my sex.

Finally, the belt loosens, and I quickly work on his pants. My hands fumble with the button—too excited to be smooth—and manage to get them over his hips. I waste no time ridding him of his shirt.

His mouth works against mine, demanding attention despite his touch below. My hands roam over his chest and shoulders, mapping the ridges and valleys. He seizes my hips in his firm grip—his fingers splayed onto my ass, and his thumbs pointed at my groin.

I think I might die.

“You weren’t joking,” he says regarding my pantiless state, biting hard enough on my lip to make me squeal before releasing it.

He pulls away, leaving me gasping for air.

His eyes are wild, his chest heaving, and my muscles clench with anticipation.

“Lie back.” He puts a hand under my back, guiding me flat against the table. His eyes hold mine, taking me in. “My God, you’re perfect.”

I observe him shirtless for the first time since he wouldn’t get ready for our wedding in front of me. It was one of his torture tactics, but I secretly enjoyed it. It was sweet in a frustrating kind of way.

A thick line of muscle extends from his neck to the edges of his shoulders. The taper down to his waist is definitive. His body is hard and mouthwatering, but his confidence has me withering.

His hands leisurely roam up the insides of my thighs, pausing to press his fingertips into my skin midway to my slit. There’s no humor, no playfulness in his features. Just something akin to adoration that has me reeling. It makes me think of those incredible, inconceivable words Jason said earlier.