Lease My Body, Not My Heart
MM Contemporary Romance
by Jace Wilder
Free with Kindle Unlimited
Pairing: MM
Heat: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ Inferno
Tropes: Contract Romance, Age Gap, Class Difference, Forced Proximity, Grumpy/Sunshine, Praise Kink, Only Soft For Him, Touch Him and Die
The contract was simple: twelve months, monthly payments, total discretion. No feelings. No complications. No renegotiations.
Adrian Vale didn’t get where he is by making emotional decisions. As the founder of one of New York’s fastest-growing fintech firms, he controls everything — his boardroom, his penthouse, his body. The one thing he refuses to need is another person.
Nico Reyes is twenty-five, broke, brilliant, and running out of options. His mother’s medical debt is a noose around his neck. When a friend connects him with a man willing to pay handsomely for a “live-in companion,” Nico tells himself it’s a business arrangement. Temporary. Survivable.
But Adrian’s penthouse isn’t cold — it’s lonely. And Nico isn’t obedient — he’s devastating. Every broken rule pulls them closer. Every night spent tangled together rewrites the terms.
Because Adrian can lease Nico’s body. But Nico’s heart was never part of the deal.
You’ll love this book if you enjoy:
✅ Contract-to-feelings MM romance with scorching heat
✅ Emotionally controlled CEO x sharp-mouthed grad student
✅ Age gap with class difference and forced proximity
✅ Praise kink, possessive energy, and “only soft for him”
✅ Slow burn that EXPLODES (🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ — graphic, explicit, emotional)
✅ HEA guaranteed
⚠️ Content Warning: This novel contains explicit sexual content (graphic MM scenes), strong language, depictions of chronic illness (MS), financial hardship, and themes of emotional avoidance and vulnerability. Intended for readers 18+.
📖 Read Chapter One Free
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Chapter One: The Offer
The contract was seven pages long.
I’d read it four times. Not because the language was complex—Mitchell had drafted it cleanly, the way I’d asked, the way I paid him six hundred dollars an hour to do—but because reading it again was easier than admitting what it meant.
Companionship Agreement. Effective Date: TBD. Term: Twelve (12) months from the Effective Date, renewable upon mutual written consent.
I set the document on the kitchen island and picked up my glass. Macallan 18, neat. The penthouse was quiet the way it always was at eleven p.m.—not peaceful, exactly, but contained. Sixty-two floors above Midtown, the city was a muted hum beneath the glass.
I didn’t let things in.
Reasonable. Generous, even, for what I was asking. And what I was asking was simple: a person. In my space. On my terms. A companion. Discreet, presentable, sexually compatible, and temporary.
I was thirty-six years old. I ran a company valued at four hundred and twelve million dollars. I understood leverage, risk modeling, and the precise mathematics of what things cost. What I did not understand—what I had never successfully managed—was the mathematics of another person.
The last arrangement had lasted four months. His name was Drew. Three months in, he told me he loved me. I ended the arrangement the next morning.
That part I didn’t answer. Because the truth was uglier than either of us wanted: I had let it happen because some part of me—some weak, irresponsible part that I had spent a decade starving—had wanted to hear it. Just once. And then I’d needed it to stop.
My phone buzzed. Dani. She’d finished the vetting. “He’s not what you usually go for.” “I don’t have a type.” “Exactly.”
The photo loaded first. Nico Reyes. Twenty-five. Dark curly hair, brown skin, brown eyes that looked like they were arguing with whoever held the camera. He was, objectively, the most beautiful person I’d ever seen.
Dani’s assessment: He is not Drew. He will not make this easy. Whether that is a feature or a flaw depends entirely on what you actually want, which—respectfully—I am not convinced you know.
I typed: Set the meeting. Tomorrow. 10 a.m. My office.
The penthouse was quiet. Tomorrow, I’d sit across from Nico Reyes and offer him a contract that reduced intimacy to clauses and desire to line items.
I lay in the dark. I thought about the contract. Seven pages. Twelve months. Clean. Simple. Manageable.
The photo stayed open in my mind long after the phone went dark.
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Addendum A — Anniversary — A scene TOO HOT for Amazon
One year later. The farmhouse. The kitchen drawer. A ring. And the hottest celebration two men who rewrote every term have ever shared.
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