The first thing Mira noticed was the silence.
Not the quiet of an empty room, but the hush of a space designed to keep the world at bay—thick glass, soundproofed walls, the kind of stillness that only existed in places where money had been spent to ensure nothing intrusive could penetrate. She blinked against the soft golden light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, her lashes fluttering like moth wings against her cheeks.
Then the memories hit.
Theo’s mouth on hers. Hot, demanding. The way his hands had gripped her waist, pulling her against him like he couldn’t get close enough. The taste of whiskey and sin on his tongue. The way his fingers had slipped beneath the hem of her dress, teasing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh—
Mira bolted upright, the silk sheets pooling around her waist. She was naked.
*Fuck.*
Her dress—her *expensive* dress—was nowhere in sight. Neither were her panties. She clutched the sheet to her chest, her pulse hammering in her throat as she scanned the room. It wasn’t hers. The furniture was too sleek, too modern, all sharp angles and dark wood. The bed was massive, the kind that could comfortably fit three people. Or one very large, very demanding man.
Theo’s bed.
She was in Theo Sterling’s penthouse.
Mira exhaled sharply, her mind racing. They hadn’t—no, they *hadn’t*. She would remember if they’d gone all the way. Wouldn’t she? The last thing she recalled was the car ride, the way his fingers had traced patterns on her skin, how close they’d come to crossing that final line before she’d—
Before she’d *stopped him*.
Mira groaned, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes. She had *stopped him*. In the backseat of his town car, with his mouth on her neck and his hand between her legs, she had *pushed him away*.
*What the hell was wrong with her?*
A soft knock at the door made her jump.
“Mira?” Theo’s voice was rough, like he’d just woken up—or like he’d spent the night doing something far more interesting. “You decent?”
She swallowed. “Define *decent*.”
A low chuckle. “Fair enough.”
The door opened, and Theo stepped inside, carrying a tray. He was shirtless, his dark hair tousled, his jaw shadowed with stubble. The morning light caught the ridges of his abs, the defined V of his hips disappearing beneath the low-slung waistband of his sweatpants. Mira’s mouth went dry.
He smirked, like he knew exactly what she was thinking. “Breakfast.”
Mira clutched the sheet tighter. “I don’t remember getting undressed.”
“You don’t remember *a lot* of things from last night.” He set the tray on the nightstand—fresh fruit, croissants, a pot of coffee, two mugs. “But don’t worry. I was a perfect gentleman.”
“You *undressed me*.”
“You were drunk. And you kept trying to take my pants off in the elevator.” He poured her a cup of coffee, black, just the way she liked it. “I figured you’d prefer waking up in something other than that dress. It looked expensive.”
Mira’s face burned. “I wasn’t *that* drunk.”
“No,” he agreed, his voice dropping an octave. “You weren’t.”
The air between them thickened, charged with something unspoken. Mira cleared her throat. “So. We didn’t—”
“No.” His gaze darkened. “You stopped me.”
She exhaled, relief and frustration warring inside her. “Why?”
Theo’s lips quirked. “You tell me, *agape*.”
Mira’s stomach flipped. She hated that he remembered the nickname. Hated that it made her feel things. “I don’t know. I just—” She gestured vaguely. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“Clearly.” He leaned against the bedpost, his arms crossed over his chest. “But you *were* thinking when you propositioned me in the coatroom.”
Mira’s pulse spiked. “I didn’t *proposition* you.”
“You said you wanted to *use* me.” His voice was a dark purr. “Those were your exact words.”
She groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I was upset. And drunk. And *you* were the one who kissed *me*.”
“Because you *dared* me to.”
Mira dropped her hands, glaring at him. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, here you are.” He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered, brushing against her jaw. “In my bed. Wearing nothing but my sheets.”
Mira’s breath hitched. “This was a mistake.”
“Was it?” His thumb traced the curve of her bottom lip. “Because last night, you seemed *very* sure about what you wanted.”
She swallowed. “I was emotional. Reckless.”
“And now?”
Now, she was *sober*. Now, she could think. Now, she could see the danger in this—how easily she could lose herself in him, how quickly this could spiral into something messy, something *real*.
But then she thought of Daniel. Of the way he’d looked at that blonde last night, like Mira was nothing. Like she was *replaceable*.
And she thought of Theo’s hands on her. His mouth. The way he’d made her feel *wanted*.
Mira lifted her chin. “Now, I want to know the terms.”
Theo’s eyes gleamed. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
---
The penthouse was even more impressive in daylight.
Mira followed Theo through the sprawling space, her bare feet sinking into the plush white carpet. The walls were lined with abstract art, bold splashes of color that somehow worked with the sleek, modern furniture. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the city, the skyline stretching out like a glittering promise.
“You live here alone?” she asked, running her fingers along the back of a leather couch.
“Mostly.” Theo moved into the kitchen, pulling out a pan. “My sister crashes here sometimes. And my assistant has a key for emergencies.”
Mira raised an eyebrow. “Emergencies?”
“Business emergencies.” He shot her a look. “What, you think I’m hiding a harem in the guest room?”
She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”
Theo laughed, low and rich, and Mira felt it in her bones. She turned away, pretending to study a painting on the wall—a chaotic swirl of reds and blacks that somehow made her think of *him*.
“Hungry?” he asked.
Mira’s stomach growled on cue. She hadn’t eaten since the gala, and the champagne from last night was still making her head spin. “Starving.”
Theo gestured to the island. “Sit.”
She hesitated, then perched on one of the stools, the cool marble against her bare thighs a stark contrast to the heat still simmering beneath her skin. Theo moved around the kitchen with effortless grace, cracking eggs into a bowl, whisking them with a fork. The muscles in his back flexed with each movement, the play of light and shadow highlighting the tattoos snaking down his spine.
Mira’s fingers twitched with the urge to trace them.
“So,” she said, forcing herself to focus. “The terms.”
Theo glanced over his shoulder, his lips curving. “Eager, are we?”
“Just practical.” She folded her hands in her lap. “If we’re doing this, we need rules.”
“Rules.” He poured the eggs into a sizzling pan. “I didn’t peg you for the rule-following type.”
“I’m not. But I *am* the type who doesn’t like surprises.” She watched as he sprinkled cheese into the eggs, the scent of butter and salt filling the air. “So. How long?”
Theo flipped the omelet with a flick of his wrist. “Three months.”
Mira blinked. “That’s… specific.”
“It’s enough time to sell the illusion.” He slid the omelet onto a plate, added a handful of fresh herbs, and set it in front of her. “Long enough to make it believable, short enough to keep things interesting.”
Mira picked up her fork, poking at the eggs. “And what happens after three months?”
Theo leaned against the counter, his arms crossed. “We go our separate ways. No hard feelings. No messy breakup.”
“And if one of us wants to end it early?”
His gaze darkened. “Then we end it. No questions asked.”
Mira chewed slowly, considering. “What about public appearances?”
“As many as necessary.” He poured himself a cup of coffee, black, no sugar. “Galas, fundraisers, charity events. Anywhere my family or the press might see us.”
“And in private?”
Theo’s lips quirked. “In private, we do whatever we want.”
Mira’s pulse jumped. “Define *whatever*.”
“You want boundaries, *agape*?” He set his coffee down, rounding the island until he was standing in front of her. “Fine. No falling in love. No catching feelings. No sleeping with other people.” His fingers brushed against her knee, sending a jolt of electricity up her thigh. “But everything else? On the table.”
Mira’s breath hitched. “Everything?”
Theo’s hand slid higher, his thumb tracing circles on the inside of her thigh. “You tell me. How far are you willing to go?”
Mira’s mind flashed back to last night—the way his fingers had teased her, how close she’d come to begging him to take her right there in the backseat. She swallowed. “No sex.”
Theo’s eyebrows lifted. “No sex?”
“Not until we’re sure this is working.” She met his gaze, her voice steady despite the heat pooling between her legs. “We need to sell the illusion, not complicate it.”
Theo studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Fine. No sex. For now.”
Mira exhaled. “Good.”
“But,” he added, his voice dropping to a growl, “I’m not a saint, *agape*. And neither are you.”
She licked her lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Theo’s hand slid higher, his fingers brushing against the heat between her legs. Mira gasped, her hips jerking involuntarily.
“It means,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear, “that I’m going to make you *beg* for it.”
Mira’s vision blurred. “Theo—”
“But not yet.” He pulled back, leaving her aching and wanting. “First, we practice.”
Mira’s heart pounded. “Practice?”
Theo’s lips curved into a wicked smile. “The kiss. Last night was… impulsive. We need to make sure we have *chemistry*.”
Mira’s stomach flipped. “And if we don’t?”
Theo stepped between her legs, his hands gripping her thighs. “Oh, *agape*.” His voice was a dark promise. “We do.”
---
The air between them was electric.
Mira’s pulse roared in her ears as Theo’s hands slid up her thighs, his fingers digging into her skin. She was still wearing his shirt—one of his button-downs, the fabric soft against her bare skin, the sleeves swallowing her hands. It smelled like him: cedar and spice and something darker, something that made her want to bury her face in the collar and breathe him in.
Theo’s gaze burned into hers, his eyes dark with hunger. “Last night was good,” he murmured. “But we can do better.”
Mira’s breath hitched. “Better?”
“Mmm.” His hands slid higher, his thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. “More convincing.”
Mira’s legs trembled. “And how do we do that?”
Theo’s lips curved. “We *practice*.”
Before she could respond, his mouth was on hers.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was *hungry*—a clash of teeth and tongues, a desperate, devouring kiss that stole her breath and left her gasping. Mira moaned into his mouth, her hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt as she pulled him closer. Theo growled, his hands sliding beneath her ass, lifting her onto the counter. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his back as she arched against him.
Theo’s mouth left hers, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her throat. Mira tilted her head back, her fingers tangling in his hair as his teeth scraped against her pulse point. “Theo—”
“Shh.” His voice was rough, his breath hot against her skin. “Let me *taste* you.”
Mira’s eyes fluttered shut as his mouth moved lower, his tongue tracing the swell of her breast through the thin fabric of his shirt. She gasped as his teeth grazed her nipple, the sensation shooting straight to her core. “Oh, *god*—”
Theo chuckled, low and dark, his hands sliding up her thighs. “Not a god, *agape*. Just a man.”
Mira’s breath came in short, sharp gasps as his fingers brushed against the heat between her legs. She was *soaked*, her body aching for his touch. “Theo, please—”
“Please *what*?” His voice was a growl, his fingers teasing her through the fabric of her panties. “Tell me what you want.”
Mira’s hips jerked, her body begging for more. “I want—”
“Say it.” His fingers slipped beneath the lace, brushing against her clit. Mira cried out, her back arching off the counter. “Tell me.”
“I want *you*,” she gasped. “I want your hands on me. I want your mouth—”
Theo’s fingers stilled. “Where?”
Mira’s vision blurred. “Everywhere.”
Theo groaned, his forehead pressing against hers. “Fuck, *agape*. You’re going to kill me.”
Mira’s hands slid down his chest, her fingers tracing the hard lines of his abs. “Then let me *touch* you.”
Theo’s breath hitched as her hand dipped beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, her fingers wrapping around his cock. He was *hard*, thick and heavy in her hand, his skin like silk over steel. Theo groaned, his hips jerking forward as she stroked him. “Mira—”
“You feel *good*,” she murmured, her thumb swirling over the tip. “So *big*.”
Theo’s hands gripped her thighs, his fingers digging into her skin. “You’re *killing* me.”
Mira smirked, her hand moving faster. “Then let me *finish* you.”
Theo’s breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling. “Not yet.”
Before she could protest, he dropped to his knees, his hands gripping her thighs as he spread her open. Mira’s breath hitched as his mouth hovered over her, his breath hot against her skin. “Theo—”
“Shh.” His tongue flicked against her clit, slow and teasing. Mira cried out, her hands flying to his hair as he licked her, his mouth hot and wet and *insistent*. “You taste *so* good,” he murmured, his voice rough. “Like sin and sugar.”
Mira’s hips jerked, her body begging for more. “Theo, *please*—”
His tongue plunged inside her, his fingers joining in, stretching her, filling her. Mira’s vision blurred, her body trembling as pleasure coiled tight in her core. “Oh, *god*—Theo—I’m—”
Theo’s mouth sealed over her clit, his tongue flicking in rapid, relentless strokes. Mira’s back arched off the counter, her body shuddering as she came apart, her orgasm crashing over her in waves. Theo groaned against her, his fingers working her through it, drawing out every last shudder, every last gasp.
Mira collapsed back against the counter, her body boneless, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Theo pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, his lips soft against her skin. “Still think we don’t have chemistry?”
Mira laughed weakly, her fingers tangling in his hair. “I think we might *kill* each other.”
Theo chuckled, pressing another kiss to her skin. “Worth it.”
Mira’s heart pounded as he stood, his hands sliding up her thighs. She could see the hunger in his eyes, the way his cock strained against his sweatpants. “Theo—”
He silenced her with a kiss, his mouth hot and demanding. Mira moaned into him, her hands sliding down his chest, her fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. Theo groaned, his hips jerking forward as she wrapped her hand around him.
“Mira,” he growled, his voice rough. “We should—”
“Stop *talking*,” she murmured, her hand moving faster. “And *fuck* me.”
Theo’s breath hitched, his body trembling. “We said *no sex*.”
Mira smirked, her thumb swirling over the tip of his cock. “I changed my mind.”
Theo groaned, his forehead pressing against hers. “Fuck, *agape*. You’re going to be the death of me.”
Mira’s lips curved. “Then let me *ruin* you.”
Theo’s hands gripped her thighs, his fingers digging into her skin. “Not yet.”
Mira’s heart sank. “What?”
Theo pressed a kiss to her forehead, his breath warm against her skin. “We have a *contract* to sign first.”
Mira blinked. “You’re *serious*?”
Theo chuckled, stepping back. “Deadly.”
Mira groaned, covering her face with her hands. “You’re *impossible*.”
Theo’s lips curved. “And yet, here you are.”
Mira dropped her hands, glaring at him. “Fine. But I’m *not* happy about this.”
Theo smirked, adjusting himself with a wince. “Duly noted.”
Mira slid off the counter, her legs trembling. “Where’s the contract?”
Theo gestured to the living room. “On the coffee table.”
Mira followed him, her body still humming with need. The contract was there, a sleek black folder with a single sheet of paper inside. She picked it up, scanning the terms.
*Three months. No sex. No falling in love. No sleeping with other people.*
Mira’s lips quirked. “You really *did* write this up last night.”
Theo shrugged. “I like to be prepared.”
Mira picked up the pen, her fingers trembling. “And if I want to add something?”
Theo’s gaze darkened. “Like what?”
Mira met his eyes, her voice steady. “No *regrets*.”
Theo’s lips curved. “Deal.”
Mira signed her name with a flourish, then handed the pen to Theo. He signed without hesitation, his gaze never leaving hers.
“Done,” he murmured, setting the pen down.
Mira’s heart pounded. “Now what?”
Theo’s hands slid up her thighs, his fingers digging into her skin. “Now,” he growled, “we *practice*.”
Mira’s breath hitched as his mouth crashed down on hers, his kiss hot and demanding. She moaned into him, her hands fisting in his shirt as she pulled him closer. Theo groaned, his hands sliding beneath her ass, lifting her onto the couch. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his back as she arched against him.
Theo’s mouth left hers, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her throat. Mira tilted her head back, her fingers tangling in his hair as his teeth scraped against her pulse point. “Theo—”
“Shh.” His voice was rough, his breath hot against her skin. “Let me *taste* you.”
Mira’s eyes fluttered shut as his mouth moved lower, his tongue tracing the swell of her breast through the thin fabric of his shirt. She gasped as his teeth grazed her nipple, the sensation shooting straight to her core. “Oh, *god*—”
Theo chuckled, low and dark, his hands sliding up her thighs. “Not a god, *agape*. Just a man.”
Mira’s breath came in short, sharp gasps as his fingers brushed against the heat between her legs. She was *soaked*, her body aching for his touch. “Theo, please—”
“Please *what*?” His voice was a growl, his fingers teasing her through the fabric of her panties. “Tell me what you want.”
Mira’s hips jerked, her body begging for more. “I want—”
“Say it.” His fingers slipped beneath the lace, brushing against her clit. Mira cried out, her back arching off the couch. “Tell me.”
“I want *you*,” she gasped. “I want your hands on me. I want your mouth—”
Theo’s fingers stilled. “Where?”
Mira’s vision blurred. “Everywhere.”
Theo groaned, his forehead pressing against hers. “Fuck, *agape*. You’re going to kill me.”
Mira’s hands slid down his chest, her fingers tracing the hard lines of his abs. “Then let me *touch* you.”
Theo’s breath hitched as her hand dipped beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, her fingers wrapping around his cock. He was *hard*, thick and heavy in her hand, his skin like silk over steel. Theo groaned, his hips jerking forward as she stroked him. “Mira—”
“You feel *good*,” she murmured, her thumb swirling over the tip. “So *big*.”
Theo’s hands gripped her thighs, his fingers digging into her skin. “You’re *killing* me.”
Mira smirked, her hand moving faster. “Then let me *finish* you.”
Theo’s breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling. “Not yet.”
Mira’s heart sank. “What?”
Theo pressed a kiss to her forehead, his breath warm against her skin. “We have a *contract* to uphold.”
Mira groaned, covering her face with her hands. “You’re *impossible*.”
Theo chuckled, stepping back. “And yet, here you are.”
Mira slid off the couch, her legs trembling. “I should go.”
Theo’s gaze darkened. “Running away, *agape*?”
Mira met his eyes, her voice steady. “Just giving us both time to *cool off*.”
Theo smirked, adjusting himself with a wince. “Smart girl.”
Mira grabbed her dress from the floor, the fabric still damp from last night. She slipped it on, her fingers fumbling with the zipper. Theo watched her, his gaze heated.
“You’re *killing* me,” he murmured.
Mira smirked, smoothing down the fabric. “Good.”
Theo chuckled, stepping closer. “When will I see you again?”
Mira’s heart pounded. “Soon.”
Theo’s hands slid up her arms, his fingers tracing the curve of her shoulders. “Promise?”
Mira’s breath hitched. “Promise.”
Theo’s lips curved into a wicked smile. “Then I’ll be *waiting*.”
Mira’s pulse jumped. She turned on her heel, heading for the door. But before she left, she glanced over her shoulder, her gaze locking with his.
“Theo?”
“Yes, *agape*?”
Mira’s lips curved. “Don’t *touch* yourself.”
Theo’s breath hitched, his body tensing. “Fuck.”
Mira smirked, stepping into the hallway. “See you soon.”
And with that, she left, her body humming with need, her mind already racing with the possibilities of what came next.