Time-Limited Love: A Contract Expired, Not Renewed novel Chapter 85

Zinnia closed her eyes and drew a slow, steady breath before reminding him, her voice soft but firm.

“That wasn’t part of our marriage agreement.”

For a moment, Landon’s puzzled gaze lingered on her, his expression frozen. Then, realization dawned—and with it, a flicker of frustration shadowed his face.

“Zinnia, we’re married. Legally married,” he said, his voice tight, as if he was fighting to keep his composure. She could see the tension in his jaw, the way he clenched his fists at his sides, struggling to rein in the heat simmering just beneath the surface.

He couldn’t tell if he was angrier at Zinnia for reining him in at such a crucial moment, or at himself for letting her mention that damned marriage contract and ruin the mood.

Zinnia lowered her gaze, digging her fingernails into her palm to ground herself, forcing herself not to lose control in the charged silence between them.

“Yeah,” she replied quietly, lips pressed into a thin line. “But it’s just on paper.”

Their marriage was legitimate in the eyes of the law, yes. But it was all for show—a façade meant for outsiders.

Summoning every ounce of courage, she looked up again, meeting Landon’s dark, stormy eyes head-on to remind him, yet again:

“Have you forgotten? We signed an agreement, remember? We live our own lives, keep up appearances, but that’s all. It’s a marriage in name only.”

Her words hit Landon like a bucket of ice water poured over his head, extinguishing whatever desire had sparked between them and leaving only a cold ache in its wake.

He stared at Zinnia for a long moment before finally letting her go. His eyes dropped to the floor, and his voice was barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, he was her husband—a dream come true, a gift she’d never dared hope for.

How could she not be tempted?

So, she started to test the limits, carefully, nervously, wanting to know just how far she could go before it became “too much.”

She called him “Landon” in that intimate, familiar way. She moved into the master bedroom when they settled into the new house, feigning ignorance. She made him breakfast, just like any devoted wife would. When he worked late, she left a lamp burning for him and warmed a mug of coffee to help with the hangover.

Every day, she’d find something new to talk to him about, even if he never replied—clinging to the fantasy she’d spun for herself, pretending theirs was a real marriage.

Pretending she was living the life she’d always dreamed of, if only for a little while.