Page 17 of The King Contract
Noah’s tan, defined torso pops against the waistline of his neon pink surf shorts, dotted with bright yellow pineapples. The vivid pattern clings to the muscles of his thighs. His curls fall into his eyes, and he pushes them lazily away as he leans against the door, his stomach contorting. “Hey, babe.”
My body jerks backwards. “Please don’t call me that. Why don’t you have clothes on?”
Noah glances at his half-naked body. “Trust me, this is a lot of clothing for me. Especially in my own house.”
I release a slow, deliberate exhale. “Let’s get this over with.”
Noah chuckles. “We’re about to be spending a whole lotmoretime together. Might as well get used to it.”
“There are no cameras here,” I point out. “I don’t need to do anything.”
“Cameras can show up anywhere, you can trust me on that.” Noah holds the door open wider. “And by all means, make this more painful for yourself. Come in.”
I do my best to ignore the amount of flesh on display as I step across the threshold.
The interior is as breathtaking as the outside. Wooden beams line the high ceilings, the entry hallway leading to an enormous open living space with a giant television and fireplace. The spotless kitchen to the right is a mix of titanium and steel, but most breathtaking element to the home is the floor to ceiling glass wall that overlooks the ocean below.
“Wow.” My nose nearly touches the glass. I’d never get sick of this view.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
“Your home is stunning,” I agree, turning to see Noah staring out the window.
His gaze flicks to me. “Thanks, but I meantthat.”
He looks out at the rolling waves, awe etched on his face. It’s clear he hasn’t got sick of this view either, that even though he’s in the water every day, he still appreciates it, still admires it.
My gaze falls to a series of photographs on the far wall, and I pad over to them. Noah wasn’t lying when he said I’d love the big wave photos in his home. They’re breathtaking.
“They’re from?—”
“Nazaré.” I narrow my eyes at the tiny surfer against a wall of thunderous water. “I’d recognise this spot anywhere.” The ocean is one of my favourite subjects to capture through my lens, and I’ve always been drawn to anything sea-related by other photographers. Maybe it’s because I lost my parents to the ocean or have some other connection to it, but I’ve always admired big waves.
When I turn back to Noah, he’s watching me across the room with surprise. “Right. Can I get you a drink?”
I shake my head. “I’m good, thanks. Let’s get down to business.”
Noah pauses, a smirk on his lips. “I appreciate a straight-talking woman.”
“This is going to be torture.”
Noah chuckles. He’s much more relaxed today, which makes me nervous. Maybe it’s because I’m on his turf that he feels more at ease.
He motions for me to take a seat on his enormous brown leather sofa and slides a stack of papers across the low coffee table. He clears his throat, pacing around the living room with casual grace, his own papers in his hands. Sunlight bounces off his torso, accentuating his ripped body.
My gaze falls to the first page of my stack, and my jaw drops. “You had thislegallydrawn up?”
“I’m a professional athlete,” Noah replies, stopping across from me. “I don’t fuck around with contracts.”
“Who said anything about a legally binding contract?” I cry. “I thought we were writing down boundaries and coming to an agreement like normal people.”
“You were wrong.” Noah seems unfazed by my outburst. “If you want to be paid a healthy sum of money at the end of this, then I want the agreement in writing, with your pretty signature underneath. You want to bow out? There’s the door.”
I stay planted on the sofa. Noah might be cocky and brazen, but the fact he’s thinking of risks and fall-out issmart. It’s something I’d consider if I had a high-profile career like him.
I twist my hands together. “Let’s get started.”
“Alright, then.” Noah starts pacing again. “This relationship contract, hereby known as ‘agreement’, is written for the mutual benefit of the Couple. That’s you and me.”
