When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 143

Amelia

When we finally reached the hotel, Sophie was walking ahead of us, her chatter filling the hallway as we approached our adjoining suites.

"Well," Sophie turned to me with a mischievous grin that spoke volumes. "I think I'll sleep in my brother's suite tonight. After all, he's leaving New York in a few days." She winked at Ethan.

I glanced at Ethan, silently questioning if this was his doing. He simply shrugged, his expression innocent except for the slight curl at the corner of his mouth.

"I didn't arrange this," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. "But I'm not complaining either."

"I should get the kids," I said, desperate to escape the intensity of his gaze. "Michael's probably wondering where we are."

Ethan nodded, sliding his key card through the lock of his suite. "I'll come with you."

When I entered Ethan's bedroom, I wasn't prepared for the scene before me. Michael was on his knees, collecting scattered toys and placing them in a colorful bin. Lucas sat at a small desk, his little face contorted with frustration as he stared down at what looked like writing exercises.

The moment Lucas spotted me, he bolted from his chair and wrapped his arms around my legs. "Mommy!" His voice cracked, and I noticed his eyes were red-rimmed. My heart twisted at the sight.

"What's wrong, baby?" I knelt down, smoothing his dark hair away from his forehead.

"I don't want to practice letters," he mumbled against my shoulder. "I don't like Ethan. I want to go back to our room."

I glanced up at Ethan, who stood in the doorway looking uncomfortable.

"I was just trying to help him improve his handwriting," Ethan explained, his tone slightly defensive. "I might have been a bit... stern."

"He made me write the same letter twenty times," Lucas whispered loudly enough for Ethan to hear. "And he didn't smile once. Not even when I drew him a picture."

I noticed a crumpled piece of paper on the floor – a stick figure drawing of what appeared to be Ethan with an enormous head and tiny body. Despite everything, I had to bite back a smile.

"Ethan was just trying to help," I said softly, though part of me wanted to scold Ethan for being too hard on a three-year-old. "But we can practice in a different way tomorrow, okay?"

I spotted Ella curled up on the sofa, fast asleep with her favorite stuffed doll clutched to her chest. Her dark curls spilled across the cushion, and her little chest rose and fell with each breath.

"We can go back to our room now." I helped him gather his toys while Michael finished tidying up.

"Thank you for taking care of them," I told Michael, who nodded and excused himself.

I took Lucas's hand, feeling his little fingers grip mine tightly. "Let's go, sweetie."

"I'll get Ella," Ethan offered, carefully lifting our sleeping daughter. She didn't even stir as he cradled her against his chest, mindful of his injured hand.

As we walked through the connecting door into my suite, I could feel Ethan's eyes on me. His gaze traced down my back, resting on my legs and the curve of my hips in my white dress. I shot him a sharp look.

"You're good with them," Ethan said quietly as we entered my room. "I never thought I'd envy someone's ability to handle a cranky three-year-old."

"Years of practice," I replied, turning down the bed covers. "And I've had to learn their moods. Lucas needs gentleness when he's frustrated, not more pressure."

A flicker of regret crossed Ethan's face. "I'll remember that."

In my bedroom, Ethan gently laid Ella on one side of the king-sized bed. She immediately curled into a ball, still clutching her doll. Lucas climbed up beside his sister but kept shooting wary glances at Ethan.

"Everything's okay, Lucas," I assured him, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Would you like a story before sleep?"

He nodded, his eyes still fixed on Ethan, who stood awkwardly by the doorway as if unsure whether to stay or go.

I told Lucas a simple story about a doctor who saved people's lives, watching as his eyelids grew heavy. Within minutes, both children were asleep, their breathing deep and even.

I tucked the blanket around them and turned to find Ethan watching me with an intensity that made my pulse quicken.

"Can I stay?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "I don't want to stop this time."

He stepped closer, his fingertips grazing the inside of my wrist. "Don't worry," he added with a smile that was pure sin. "My right hand might be injured, but everything else is in perfect working order."

The unhidden desire in Ethan's eyes, along with the flutter in my own heart, made my rational voice fade into the background. Before I could change my mind, I nodded.

"I'm going to take a shower," I whispered, grabbing my silk nightgown and retreating to the bathroom.

Standing under the hot spray, I tried to slow my racing heart. My mind was a complete jumble. The kids were right there in the bedroom—what if they woke up?

Last time, I helped him with a hand job, but I was too shy to go any further, especially since the only sex I’d had with him was when I was drugged.

Yet beneath the practical concerns burned something far more primal. My body remembered Ethan's touch, craved it with an intensity that shocked me.

I closed my eyes, remembering the feel of his strong arms around me, the firmness of his chest pressed against mine. My hands drifted across my wet skin, imagining they were his hands instead. God, I wanted him. Despite everything – despite the fact that I should know better.

I leaned against the cool tile wall, letting the water cascade over me. This wasn't just about physical desire; it was about trust. Could I really trust him again? The rational part of me screamed caution, but another part whispered that people could change.

When I finally stepped out and dried off, I slipped into my silk nightgown, the cool fabric clinging to my still-warm skin. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror – flushed cheeks, bright eyes, hair still damp around my shoulders. I looked like a woman teetering on the edge of a decision that could change everything.

I took a deep breath before opening the bathroom door, finding Ethan leaning against the doorframe. His eyes darkened as they traveled slowly from my bare feet up the length of my body, taking in the way the pale blue silk draped over my curves. Water droplets still clung to my neck, trailing down toward my collarbone.

"Need my help?" he asked, his voice rougher than before.

I didn't trust myself to speak.