His hand, the one that had been on my back, slid around my hip, his palm flattening against the lush curve of my stomach, pulling me flush against him. I could feel the hard, thick ridge of his erection through the fine wool of his trousers, a promise of a demand. A shudder wracked my whole body.
“Sign the contract, Imani.”
“No,” I breathed, the word lacking any real force.
His other hand came up, fingers tracing the neckline of my gown, following the path of delicate beads until his knuckles brushed the swelling curve of my breast. A feather-light touch that set my nerves on fire. My head fell back against the cool mirror with a soft thud, eyes fluttering shut.
“Sign it,” he repeated, his mouth so close to my ear I could feel the warmth of his breath.
His fingers dipped lower, slippi
