Bound For You

The moment their lips met, the world around them ceased to exist.

Grace wasn't thinking—she *couldn't* think. Every rational thought, every argument telling her that this was a terrible mistake had been silenced the second Alex's lips touched hers.

His kiss wasn't hesitant. It was deep, possessive, demanding. It was the kind of kiss that sent shivers racing down her spine, that made her forget everything except the heat spreading through her veins.

Her fingers dug into the crisp fabric of his shirt as she pulled him closer, feeling the solid planes of his chest beneath her palms. His hands, rough and warm, gripped her waist, molding her against him in a way that left no space between them.

A low groan rumbled in his throat as he tilted her head, deepening the kiss. His tongue brushed against hers, teasing, coaxing, igniting something dangerously primal within her.

She gasped against his mouth, and he took advantage of the moment, claiming her lips once more with an urgency that sent her heart racing.

*This is insane.*

They were supposed to hate each other. Their marriage was a contract, a business deal, nothing more.

And yet, here they were, devouring each other like they had been starving for this.

Alex's lips left hers only to travel lower, tracing a searing path along the curve of her jaw, then down to the sensitive spot just below her ear.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin.

Grace's hands curled on his chest, her pulse hammering in her ears. She should stop this. She should push him away before it was too late, before they crossed a line they could never undo.

But when his teeth grazed her earlobe, a sharp gasp escaped her lips, betraying the war waging inside her.

She didn't want him to stop.

Her silence was all the answer he needed.

With a curse, Alex lifted her onto the kitchen counter, parting her legs as he stepped between them. His hands roamed over her thighs, igniting a fire in their wake.

Her breath hitched when his lips found hers again, hungrier this time, as if he was trying to devour her whole.

A deep, sinful heat coiled in her stomach as his fingers traced slow circles against her bare skin, inching higher, teasing, torturing.

"Alex," she whispered, her voice laced with need.

He groaned at the sound of his name on her lips, pressing her even closer.

Every fiber of her being was consumed by him.

The scent of his cologne, the way his breath fanned across her skin, the way his body fit perfectly against hers—it was intoxicating.

*Too intoxicating.*

Because just as quickly as it had begun, reality came crashing back.

With a sharp intake of breath, Grace pushed against his chest, breaking the kiss.

Alex stilled, his grip on her tightening as he searched her eyes. His hazel gaze was dark, filled with desire, but also with something else. Something unreadable.

"Grace," he murmured, his voice rough.

She swallowed hard, struggling to steady her breathing.

"This…" she said, gesturing between them. "This can't happen."

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

"Why not?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm.

She exhaled shakily, lowering her gaze. "Because we both know this isn't real."

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Then, with a humorless chuckle, Alex stepped back, raking a hand through his already-messy hair.

"You're right," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "This isn't real."

His words stung more than they should have.

She shouldn't feel hurt. She *shouldn't* feel disappointed.

But she did.

Before she could say anything, Alex turned on his heel and strode out of the kitchen, leaving her sitting on the counter, breathless, confused, and completely unraveled.

---

The Morning After

The next morning, Grace woke up to sunlight streaming through the curtains.

Her body still buzzed from last night.

She had barely slept.

Every time she closed her eyes, she could feel Alex's hands on her skin, his lips on hers, the heat of his body pressed against her.

It was torture.

Throwing the covers off, she climbed out of bed and made her way to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face.

She needed to snap out of it.

She needed to *forget*.

Because if she didn't, she was going to fall into something she couldn't escape.

And she couldn't afford that.

Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and walked out of the bathroom.

But as soon as she stepped into the hallway, she nearly collided with Alex.

He was already dressed in a crisp black suit, looking effortlessly handsome, as if last night hadn't affected him at all.

Grace, on the other hand, was still in her silk nightgown, her hair a mess.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, Alex smirked. "Morning, wife."

Grace's stomach flipped.

She narrowed her eyes. "Don't."

His smirk widened. "Don't what?"

"Don't act like last night meant anything," she shot back, crossing her arms. "It was a mistake."

Alex tilted his head, amusement flickering in his gaze. "Was it?"

"Yes."

He took a slow step closer, and Grace instinctively took a step back.

"Mistakes don't feel that good, Grace," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Her breath hitched.

Damn him.

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to hold his gaze. "It won't happen again."

Alex studied her for a long moment before nodding. "If that's what you want."

It wasn't.

But she didn't say that.

Instead, she turned on her heel and walked past him, determined to put last night behind her.

---

Later That Night

Grace spent the rest of the day avoiding Alex.

She buried herself in work, in meetings, in anything that kept her away from him.

But it didn't help.

Because no matter how hard she tried to distract herself, her thoughts kept drifting back to last night.

To the way he had kissed her.

To the way he had touched her.

To the way he had made her feel *alive*.

And she hated it.

So, when she found herself sitting in the garden later that night, sipping on a glass of wine, she wasn't surprised when Alex found her.

"I was wondering where you were hiding," he said, leaning against the doorframe.

She didn't look at him.

"I wasn't hiding."

Alex chuckled. "Of course you weren't."

He walked over to her, settling into the chair across from her.

For a moment, they sat in silence, the only sound between them the gentle rustling of the wind.

Then, Alex sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"I meant what I said last night," he murmured. "Mistakes don't feel that good."

Grace's heart skipped a beat.

She met his gaze, searching for any sign of deception.

But all she saw was raw honesty.

And that scared her more than anything.

Because if she let herself believe him—if she let herself *feel*—then she was doomed.

So, instead of responding, she simply took another sip of her wine and looked away.

Alex sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"Alright," he said. "I'll let you pretend you don't want me."

Grace's grip tightened around her glass.

She wanted to argue. She wanted to tell him he was wrong.

But she couldn't.

Because they both knew the truth.

She wanted him.

She just didn't know if she could survive him.