Chapter 23
Chapter 23:
Dallas stared at her. The alcohol was stripping away his usual filters, peeling back the layers of the stoic CEO to expose the man underneath. “You think this is a choice?” he said, a dark, humorless sound escaping him.
He took her hand and pulled her toward the door. “What are you doing?” she asked, her heart hammering.
“I am tired of being the gentleman, Eliza,” he murmured, leading her up the grand staircase.
He stopped outside her bedroom door.
“The contract says —” she began, her voice barely a whisper.
𝖩𝘰𝗂n 𝗍𝘩e 𝘤𝗈𝗆𝗆𝘂𝗇𝘪𝘁𝘺 𝘢𝗍
“The contract says you are my wife,” he interrupted, his hand closing on the doorknob. He pushed the door open and guided her inside, closing it behind them with a soft but final click. He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear, his breath warm with whiskey.
“And tonight,” he said, “I want to be a husband p>
He lowered his head and buried his face in the crook of her neck.
Eliza froze as his breath hit her skin — warm, close, sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. He inhaled again, deeper this time.
“Vanilla,” he murmured into the curve of her neck. “You smell like vanilla. Not him. Good p>
Something shifted in him. The terrifying intensity dissolved into something almost childlike. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her toward him until her chest was pressed against his damp shirt, and rested his heavy head on her shoulder.
“Dallas, you need to go to your room,” Eliza said, trying to sound firm — like a nurse managing a difficult patient.
“No,” he mumbled into her sweater. “My room is cold. This room is warm p>
He pressed her gently backward until her legs hit the bed, and they both tumbled onto the mattress together. Eliza fell back against the pillows. Dallas followed her down, his weight settling over her as he braced himself on his elbows, hovering just above.
“Dallas! We have an agreement!” she pleaded, pressing her hands flat against his chest. It was like pushing against a brick wall.
He looked down at her, eyes hazy and struggling to focus, but the heat in them was unmistakable. “I want to sleep here,” he stated.
“Just sleep? Nothing else?” she bargained. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was certain he could feel it through his shirt.
Dallas smiled — a lazy, lopsided tilt of his lips that did strange things to Eliza’s stomach. “Unless you want something else, Mrs. Koch p>
Her face burned. “No! Sleep. Just sleep p>
He grunted, seemingly satisfied with the terms. He rolled off her, flopping onto his side, then reached for the duvet and pulled it over both of them. He threw one heavy arm over her waist. He hooked one leg over hers. He pinned her to the mattress as though she were a body pillow he was afraid of losing.
“Don’t move,” he commanded, already half-asleep.