“Chloe. I want you here with me. I want our arrangement to end and us to be together because we want to. Keep your apartment. It’ll be there if you want it. But if you want to be here, I want you here. Sleeping in my arms. Waking up every morning together.”

As Barrett says the words, I let out a shaky breath. More than moving in with him permanently, the reassurance that he wants to make our relationship real makes my stomach fluttery and my heart pound happily against my ribcage.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to negotiate.

“Access to the study?”

“Unlimited.”

“Rose would continue to stock the fridge with cookie dough ice cream?”

“Yes.”

“I’d get half of your closet?”

He shakes his head.

“There’s a second closet identical to mine.”

I tap an index finger on my lips in consideration.

“How much tennis will I have to play?”

“Only when you want to, but the outfit is required bedroom attire.”

“I was thinking I would take lessons. Frankie said there’s an excellent tennis pro.”

Barrett shakes his head. “I’ll teach you.”

I shrug. “Okay.”

“Sex?” I question. As if it’s going to be an issue. We can’t keep our hands off each other.

“Lots.” He backs me against the counter, his hands cupping my ass. “Are those your only demands?”

“I’m easy to please,” I shrug, “ice cream and orgasms.”

I wrap my hands around his neck and pull him to me. Our kiss turns me hot and needy in five seconds. My fingers are zoning in on Barrett’s belt, but he reaches for his phone. Heck of a time for a work call.

I bite my lip, waiting as patiently as I can while he taps on his phone.

“Here,” he says, turning the screen toward me. I recognize it as the security camera footage from JoAnna’s apartment the night of Lauren’s party. “Delete it.”

My eyes lift from the phone to meet his.

“Go ahead.” He hands me the phone.

I press the delete button on the screen and confirm it when it asks if I want to permanently delete the video. Barrett removes the phone from my hands and sets it aside.

His hands resume their position on my thighs, inching underneath my skirt. His lips trace along my jaw, the featherlight kisses making my clit throb.

“Now tell me you’re mine because you want to be.” His voice is low, a hoarse whisper that sends my pulse skyrocketing.

Without that video there’s no evidence of the party. Barrett’s telling me I could walk away, if that’s what I want.

“Chloe?” I hear the vulnerability in his voice. The uncertainty that comes with showing your cards and waiting for the other person to do the same.

I don’t want to be anywhere but here. With him.

“I’m yours,” I whisper.