The CEO's Contractual Wife

Lunch was a seafood feast, featuring fresh grilled fish, shrimp skewers, and an array of tropical fruits and vegetables. We ate in companionable silence for a few minutes before Alexander spoke.

“So, what would you like to do this afternoon? We could explore the island, go snorkeling, or…” he paused meaningfully, “stay

in.”

“Exploring sounds nice,” I said quickly, not trusting myself to be alone in the house with him.

“Exploring it is.” He didn’t look disappointed. If anything, his smile suggested he was enjoying the chase.

After lunch, Alexander gave me a tour of the island, showing me hidden coves and pristine beaches accessible only on foot. The property was massive, with trails winding through lush tropical forest and along dramatic cliffs.

By late afternoon, we’d made our way back to the main house, where Miguel had prepared dinner to be served at sunset. The meal was spectacular, lobster and filet mignon, paired with expensive wines that Alexander insisted I try.

“To us,” he said, raising his glass. “And our unconventional marriage.”

I clinked my glass against his. “Unconventional indeed.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks, Alexander suggested we move to the outdoor lounge area where plush couches surrounded a fire pit.

“This is ridiculous,” I said as we settled onto a couch. “Who needs a fire pit on a tropical island?”

“It gets cooler at night than you’d expect,” he replied, pouring us each a glass of aged scotch. “Besides, there’s something primal about fire. It brings people together.”

I took a sip of the scotch, wincing slightly at the burn. “This is expensive, isn’t it?”

“Very. Twenty–five–year–old Macallan.”

I took another sip, appreciating the complex flavors more this

the back of the couch behind me. “We get back to our lives as husband and wife. We’ll be staying at

this for a while, play the perfect wife until he got his controlling stake

asked, his fingers brushing against my shoulder where his arm rested

burned,

you’re thinking hard.” His finger traced a line between my eyebrows, and I had to resist the urge to lean into

expensive scotch,” I said, setting

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Chapter 94

His hand moved from the couch back to cup my cheek. “Or maybe you’re

breath caught. “I don’t know what you

I touched your tits. The way your pussy got wet when I kissed you.” His thumb traced my lower lip. The way you wanted me to fuck you

delusional,” I whispered, but my voice came out breathless and

closer, his lips just inches from mine. “Then why are your

betraying me completely, responding to his proximity like I was some horny

fire’s warm,” I

His mouth claimed mine before I could

was different from the others. It was slower and more deliberate. His tongue swept into my mouth, tasting of expensive scotch and something uniquely him. I melted against him, my hands fisting

he murmured against my lips.

cup my breast through the sundress, his thumb brushing over my peaked nipple. I arched into his touch with a soft

“I love

as he pinched my nipple through the