Bound By The CEO's Cruel Contract

e's eyes s

ing soreness that made her want to curl into herself and never move again. She lay still for three seconds, staring up at the unfam

d of expensive cologne and sex and so

ing up more than half of the king-sized bed, was the broad, bare back of Ellsworth Mosley. His breathing

omach

st. The motion sent a sharp spike of pain between her legs, and she bit down hard

r knees buckled immediately. She grabbed the nightstand with both hands, her knuckles white, h

th didn

rumpled in a heap of destroyed fabric, was her dress. The burgundy velvet evening gown she'd spent three months

The back of her

the nightst

ce, her heart hammering against her ribs, her eyes darting to the bed. Ellswort

Just a PDF attachment-a wire transfer confirmation for one million dollars

r that rattled her teeth. She gripped the phone until the case creaked, until her fingerprints smudge

eyes burned, hot and desperate, but she wouldn'

that felt borrowed, each step sending fresh waves of discomfort through her

gainst her skull. It ran down her face, her neck, pooling in the hollow of her collarbone. She let the heavy, sodden robe fall to the shower floor, a drowned thing, and stepped out onto the p

er. Pale. Hollow-eyed. Claire opened her makeup bag with steady hands-the hands of a professional, a top-t

ed shadows on her upper arms. She worked methodically, blending until her skin looked like porcelain,

lt of the fresh, dry hotel robe she took from the closet. She found her glasses in

room door, Ellsworth Mos

his right hand, he turned a custom matte-black lighter over and over, the flame catching and dying, catching and dying. His eyes-dar

as gravel and smoke. "You switch r

r tablet against her chest like a shield. "I need to return to

ritation, maybe, or something hotter she couldn't read. He'd expected tears. Exp

nging on the suite door. "Unnecessary. Leo delive

of it stole the air from her lungs. "Your nine o'clock with Morgan Holdings has been moved to

ut," h

a silent battle against the fire in her hips, a mask of professional grace hiding the agony beneath. Her three-inch

closed behind her. The l

oved toward the bathroom, intending to shower, to erase the nig

mattress. And there, dead center, was a smear of rust

osley went

e tension in her thighs. The small, swallowed sounds she'd made that he'd mis

nd punched in an internal number

ir

nitely dangerous. "I want her medical records. Financials. Every addre

hout waiting f