Chapter 5 The Contract” (SABRINA  POV)

And just as I begged for more he stopped he looked into my eyes and licked the finger he just took grom my wetness.

He came closer and kisses me. Then he whispered " I want you so bad but I won't take you yet...not yet."

Then he stood and went to the bathroom. The next thing I heard is the rushing flow of the shower.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breathe. Drake Peterson got me. And I can't deny that he already possessed me in ways I cannot define yet.

The next day was a usual busy day at the company. By the end of the office hours the whole building begun to quiet. The office was quieter than it had been all evening. Only the hum of the air conditioner, the distant city lights filtering through the glass walls, and the soft shuffle of Drake’s shoes against the polished floor.

I hadn’t moved from my chair since he leaned in for that kiss, and frankly… I didn’t want to.

Then he pulled back—just enough to look at me properly, eyes dark and unreadable, like he was weighing something monumental.

“I have something for you,” he said, voice low, smooth, dangerous.

My pulse jumped. I didn’t need him to explain. I knew.

From the sleek folder he slid across the desk, black and embossed with gold lettering, to the faint, intoxicating scent of him that lingered on the air, every detail screamed this is serious.

“What… is this?” I asked, trying to steady my voice. My hands hovered over it.

“Open it,” he said, calm but firm.

Inside, crisp sheets of paper waited. Legalese, signatures, numbered clauses—but not the kind that any secretary should ever see. No. This was personal. Calculated. Dangerous.

“The contract,” he said, eyes fixed on mine. “Our agreement.”

My breath hitched.

“Another Agreement?” I echoed, voice trembling slightly. “What kind of agreement?”

He leaned on the desk, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off him. “The kind no one else can know about.”

I blinked, trying to process the words without letting panic—or desire—take over.

“You… what?”

He gave me a slow, measured look. Dark, intense. “Sabrina. I want you. Exclusively. But… professionally, socially… legally… we cover everything.”

I stared. My fingers hovered over the papers. My heart was hammering like a drumline. “Oh? Exclusively? You mean… like… a contract?”

He nodded. “Yes. Written. Legal. Clear. Boundaries, yes. But… privileges are included in the legalities, too.”

I swallowed hard. “Privileges?”

A dangerous smile tugged at his lips. One corner, teasing, predatory. “You know exactly what I mean.”

Heat pooled low in my belly. Every nerve ending in my body was suddenly alive, buzzing, on fire. My pulse raced. My brain? Completely fried.

" Sir Drake-"

"Cut the Sir" he interrupted.

“Drake… this is insane,” I whispered.

“Insane?” He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel his breath on my neck. “Sabrina… two years of wanting you like this… and now, finally, I can be honest without excuses. Without pretending. Without holding back. Are you insane enough to sign it?”

I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I wanted to dive into his arms and never leave.

“Do I… do I have a choice?” I whispered.

“Of course you do,” he said, voice low, sensual, commanding. “But the real question is… can you resist me? Can you resist everything this… contract… allows? It's better for the both of us than the first one I offered you. You'll see.”

I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. And deep down, I didn’t want to.

My hands trembled as I reached for the pen. My pulse was deafening. Every inch of me screamed yes. 

Drake’s gaze never left mine. Dark. Intense. Possessive. Obsessive.

He leaned in so close I could feel his lips brush my temple.

“Sign it,” he whispered. “And tonight… we start over. On my terms.”

I swallowed. Heart thundering. Mind racing. And with a shaky hand, I signed my name.

The moment the pen touched the paper, I felt it—the shift, the surrender, the electricity of something dangerous and irresistible.

He took the folder, smiled that infuriating, heart-stopping smile, and brushed his fingers against mine as he returned it to the desk.

“I warned you,” he murmured. “Once you sign… there’s no going back.”

My pulse was a wildfire. My breath ragged. My body alive. And deep inside… I knew he was right.

There was no going back.

Drake leaned in even closer, his lips grazing my ear.

“Tonight… let's make the contract finally official.”

And just like that, the office became a playground for forbidden desires… and I was already lost.

The elevator doors slid shut behind us, sealing me inside with him.

Drake Peterson.

My boss.

My billionaire nightmare.

And the man who now held my signature on his dangerously possessive contract.

My pulse hammered in my throat as I stood rigidly beside him. The elevator hummed quietly, descending floor by floor, but all I could feel was him — heat, proximity, dominance wrapping around me like invisible hands.

He didn’t touch me.

He didn’t have to.

His presence alone was already undoing every rule I ever lived by.

“Look at me,” he ordered softly.

Not loud.

Not harsh.

Just… absolute.

I turned my head slowly, breath trembling.

His eyes tracked over me the way a storm watches the land it’s about to destroy — dark, consuming, patient in its hunger.

“I told myself I’d wait until midnight,” he murmured, leaning closer, voice rough enough to scrape across my skin. “But the moment you signed that contract… you became something I can no longer resist.”

My heart stuttered. “Drake—”

He stepped in front of me, trapping me between his body and the elevator wall.

Commanding.

Massive.

Irresistibly dangerous.

“Say my name again,” he breathed.

“…Drake.”

His jaw flexed like the sound hit him somewhere deep.

He braced one palm beside my head, caging me in.

“Good girl.”

The words melted down my spine like molten lightning.

Then he tilted my chin up with just two fingers — barely touching me, yet my knees nearly buckled.

“You have no idea,” he whispered, lips brushing the edge of mine without fully claiming them, “what it took to stay professional around you.”

He lowered his head further, letting our breaths mix, his mouth hovering just a breath away from mine.

“The way you try to look brave…” he murmured, “with your hands shaking, your lips parting, your eyes begging even when your words say nothing…”

My breathing hitched.

“And tonight,” he promised darkly, “I’m done pretending I don’t want you.”

The elevator dinged softly — the top floor.

He didn’t move.

He pressed a button on the panel behind me without breaking eye contact.

The elevator stopped.

Paused.

Locked.

“Drake— what are you—”

“I told you,” he said, voice dropping into something wicked, “the moment you agreed, I stop holding myself back.”

He brushed his thumb across my lower lip, a slow, possessive stroke that stole the air from my lungs.

“Tonight, Sabrina… we cross every line.”

The air thickened with heat.

Electric.

Dangerous.

Forbidden.

His hand slid to my waist — firm, claiming — pulling me against him with a restraint that felt like the last thread of his control.

“Do you want this?” he asked, low and deadly.

My voice escaped before I could think:

“Yes.”

His breath hitched.

Something dark flashed in his eyes — triumph, hunger, a promise of ruin.

Then—

He sank his lips to mine.

Not gently.

Not carefully.

But with the kind of intensity that felt like he’d been starving for me for months.

His kiss devoured.

Claimed.

Marked.

My back pressed hard against the elevator wall as he deepened the kiss, mouth demanding, hands gripping my waist with a possessiveness that set my whole body on fire.

I gasped into him — and he swallowed the sound with another fierce, breath-stealing kiss.

When he finally tore his mouth from mine, I was trembling.

“This,” he whispered against my lips, “is what crossing the line looks like.”

And then—

He lifted me.

Just swept me off my feet like I weighed nothing, my breath breaking in shock.

His mouth found my neck, slow and burning.

“You signed the contract,” he murmured.

“Now I get to take you the way I’ve always wanted.”

My body lit up like a fuse.

And in that suspended elevator, in his arms, pressed against him like he owned every inch of me—

I knew there was no turning back.

Not from him.

Not from this.

Not from the storm I willingly stepped into.