Hitched (Imperfect Love Book 2) (12 page)

I shrug sheepishly. “Noah convinced me that the office would survive two measly days without me. And I actually . . . believed him.”

Camryn says nothing. She just smirks at me like she knows something I don’t. My stomach stirs with nervous flutters.

“What?” I finally ask. I know full well I’m taking her bait, but I don’t care enough to let her keep up her smug staring.

“Oh, nothing,” she says in a singsong voice, her tone soaked with false innocence. “I guess he must be pretty convincing, is all.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I huff. “It’s just because I’ve been more confident about work lately. I feel like Tate & Cane is really starting to get back on track.”

“Sure, but business isn’t the only thing that’s going well. You practically glow when you talk about Noah. And it seems like his free-and-easy ways have rubbed off on you.”

The double entendre isn’t lost on me but I ignore it, determined to be the more mature woman in the room. “It was just one weekend off. Big deal.”

“Yeah, you guys are definitely in your honeymoon phase,” she concludes, ignoring me right back. She heaves a sigh of satisfaction that definitely didn’t need to be so theatrical. “I had my doubts at first, but it looks like the manwhore can step up and be romantic when he sees something he really wants.”

“What are you talking about? He’s wanted women before.” Noah practically treated chasing pussy like another full-time job, in fact.

Camryn shakes her head. “Not the same way he wants you. He seems really motivated to win you over. Like, for real. Not just for the company’s sake.”

My heart gives a little kick. I instinctively start to argue with her. “I’m sure he just . . .”

But then I stop because I realize that his efforts are sincere. To be honest, I always knew they were. And his romantic gestures didn’t slack off after we were married or after we slept together. So this can’t just be about the contract or the company’s public image, or even just about getting into my pants. From the beginning, Noah made no secret of being attracted to me, but lately the atmosphere between us seems like more than just sexual tension.

The attendant interrupts my stunned musings. “Would you ladies like me to apply any nail polish today?”

Wow, I must have been really spacing out. I didn’t even think of picking out a color.

“Pale pink,” I blurt, feeling playful. Very different from my usual palette of dark matte red, which feels professional and mature for the male-dominated office. Pastel pink, in a way, symbolizes my newly awakened soft side. I smile to myself, wondering what Noah will think.

“Can I see what new shades you have?” Camryn asks.

“I’ll bring you our color book,” the attendant says as she bustles out of the room.

I sink back into my thoughts. Can Noah actually have serious feelings for me? And if he does, what will I do with this information? How do
I
feel about Noah? I’m having fun now, but is he really long-term husband material?

As much as I’ve denied it just now, Camryn is right—Noah is changing my routine. Hell, he’s changing
me
. The old Olivia never would have let her hair down like I did last weekend. And we’re so much more in sync at the office. Not too long ago, we struggled to mesh our management styles, but now we effortlessly work together to solve problems with the easy grace of a rehearsed dance. We’ve grown across the gap to meet each other halfway.

Almost without my noticing, Noah has become one of my guiding stars. Someone I look forward to seeing each and every day. His smile alone has the power to speed up or slow down my heart. I’ve been so much calmer and happier lately . . . although that might just be a side effect of having multiple screaming orgasms every night.

As if Camryn can read my mind, she asks in an undertone, “So, have you two done the deed yet?”

Caught off guard, I look away, stammering, “Um . . .”

“Oh my God, you
did
,” she says with a squeal. “I’m so proud.”

Even though I’m staring intently at the wall, I can still hear the gleeful grin in her voice. My face feels hot.

“You’re being weird,” I protest.

“Are you kidding? You’ve finally broken your dry spell. Now I’m not the only one holding up the ‘sexy gossip’ end of our friendship. I want to hear everything. Hurry up and spill before the attendant comes back.” When I stay tongue-tied, she eggs me on. “Is his dick as big as the rumors say?”

“You’re unbelievable,” I say, groaning in defeat. “Yes, okay? He’s huge. Are you happy now?”

“Not until you tell me what he’s like in bed.”

I may never remove my eyeballs from this wall ever again. “Um . . . let’s just say he knows what he’s doing.”

She gives me a look. “No, let’s
not
just say that. Come on, Liv, I need more details!”

“Well, he’s . . . assertive. Passionate, but sweet. Very attentive. Sometimes he likes to tease. He takes things slow—” I think my face might burst into flame. “Until he suddenly doesn’t.”

Camryn gives a little whoop. “Get it, girl!”

Mortified, I frantically wave my hands back and forth. “Jesus, Camryn, keep it down. Half the salon can probably hear us.”

But I’m laughing with her even as I try to shush her. It seems that nothing can put a dent in my sunny mood. My heart is filled to the brim with hope—both about work and about my relationship with Noah.

Camryn opens her mouth, probably to keep grilling me. But I’m saved from further interrogation when the attendant returns with a small binder.

“Sorry about the wait, honey, someone else was using it,” she chirps.

As Camryn mulls over the color swatches, I pull my phone out of my purse to text Noah.

Olivia:
Almost done at the spa. Going to pick up more condoms on the way home. Want me to get anything else?

On playful impulse, I add:

Olivia
: Like maybe some whipped cream or chocolate sauce?

Then I hit
Send
, grinning foolishly to myself. I’m bubbling over with a joyful, sexy energy I’ve never felt before. I feel like everything in my life is finally coming together.

A few minutes later, my phone dings with a new message.

Noah
: Hell yes. You know how much I love dessert, Snowflake.

I stifle a giggle. God, I’m acting like a silly schoolgirl and I don’t even care. If these past few weeks with Noah are anything to go by, I have a lot more fun and games to look forward to.

Noah

All day I’ve been delving into Tate & Cane’s financial situation, poring over dense, dry records. But I’m home now, and at the cheery sight of Olivia fresh from the spa, smiling at me as she stands in front of my chair, all my stress dissolves.

Well, almost all of it. Fred’s e-mail about the possibility of us having to either take out a loan to continue paying employee salaries or consider a mass layoff is still on my mind. Not to mention my promise to Olivia that we’d find a way to wow our clients with an intimate party. And Fred’s news about his cancer resisting treatment. And the heir clause, looming over everything . . .

Fuck me running.
I tuck the stacks of dreary bank statements into my leather portfolio and close it.

“What do you think?” Olivia grins at me, wiggling her painted toes.

“Pink. I like it.” Then again, I’d probably like her in just about anything. I already know I love her in nothing at all.

She smiles at me. “I was feeling flirty.”

“Did you have fun?”

Blushing a little, she looks down at the plush carpeting. “Yes, except . . .”

“What is it?”

I rise and pull her chin up so she’ll meet my eyes. I hope she hasn’t seen our current financial picture yet. She’s got enough stress to juggle right now. I’ve tried to shield her from most of it, asking Fred and Peter to come directly to me with their reports and concerns.

“Camryn grilled me on
us
,” Olivia says softly.

Oh.
I’m relieved to hear it’s nothing related to work. But it’s crazy to think there’s actually an
us
. I didn’t know if we’d ever get to this point.

I shrug. “That’s not so bad, right? Things are good between us. Hopefully that’s what you told her.”

She looks up, her cheeks still hot. “I did. But she wanted to know
specifics
. Like how you were in bed.”

A slow smile uncurls on my lips. “And what did you tell her?”

She chews on her lip, looking unsure.

“The truth, Olivia,” I say firmly. It’s unlikely that she said anything to hurt my reputation—she’s polite like that, and besides, I know I’m good. I just want her to tell me how I make her feel. I want to hear those words straight from her soft, full lips.

“That you have a big . . . b-boy parts,” she stutters, “and you’re . . . assertive, yet tender, and—”

I can’t wait another second to have her mouth on mine. I take her mouth hungrily, and her lips part, accepting me. Our tongues duel as I pull her close, chest to chest.

I’m not sure how or when it happened, but she’s become mine. She’s the first thing I think about when I wake, and the last on my mind before I drift off to sleep. And before I can contemplate the ramifications, I know that I’m going to do what needs to be done to protect my future with her.

Tonight
. I need to do it tonight.

I lift Olivia in my arms and carry her toward the bedroom, our mouths still moving eagerly together. Unable to even wait until we reach the bed, I stop in the hall, pinning her back against the wall with her legs wound around my hips.

She’s wearing a simple cotton sundress, and that means when I slide my hand along the outside of her thigh and under her ass cheek, I can reach all the way around to the damp center of her panties. Slipping my fingers under the elastic, I find her clit and rub in circles, pulling a moan from her lips that I quickly swallow with another kiss.

It’s insane to think that the man who once refused to let a conquest sleep in his bed now shares a home with his wife, and practically attacks her at the door after only a couple of hours apart. Damn, I’ve turned into a total mushy prick. But there’s something so addictive about this woman. The way she carries herself, her wit and intelligence, her insatiable appetite for me. It just feels right.

I’ve never even been in a serious relationship. According to Sterling, getting married—tied to one woman for all of eternity—should have scared me shitless. Instead, it’s made me loyal, faithful, loving. It’s brought me to life in all the best ways.

I only hope that doing what I need to do tonight doesn’t destroy everything.

“Yes,” Olivia cries. She grips my shoulders and rocks her hips into my hand, already getting closer.

I love how she keeps herself bare for me. Running my fingers over her silky center, I ease one in slowly. But my careful pace isn’t to last, because when Olivia groans and murmurs my name, I add a second finger and thrust in harder. I finger-fuck her against the wall, my cock so hard it aches. But getting off is the last thing on my mind. I’m content to kiss Olivia and watch her fall apart right here in my arms.

“Noah . . .” She moans, pushing her hands into my hair. “I want you.”

“You have me, baby.” I kiss the side of her neck, inhaling her honeysuckle perfume as my fingers continue stroking. That familiar scent, so uniquely Olivia, always gets me worked up and calms me at the same time.

“Inside me. I want you inside me when I come.”

Okay, then. That changes things.
My baby wants the dick, then the dick she shall have.

Still supporting her weight with one arm around her hips, I reach between us and undo my jeans, shoving them down enough to free my cock. Then I line myself up, rubbing the head of my cock through her wet folds just to feel her shudder in my arms.

“How’s that feel?” I tease her again, dragging the length of myself through her heat, grinding against her oversensitive clit.

“Need you,” she moans brokenly.

It’s almost hard to believe this is the same woman who a mere month ago turned up her nose at the thought of sex. Thought it was some useless, vile affair that had no place in her busy life. I’m not an egomaniac, but I’d like to believe the reason is
me
. I alone bring out this side of her, make her crazy with desire, unleash her inner sex goddess. Which is fine, because she does the same to me. I crave her like I’ve never craved anything before.

“Come on.” Olivia groans. “Fuck me, Noah.” She grips my biceps and watches me with a desperate expression. The need in her eyes is almost painful.

I press forward, the first few inches of me disappearing inside her.

“Wait . . .”

I pause. “What is it?”

“The condoms. They’re by the bathroom sink. In the drugstore bag.”

Fuck that.
“It would feel so fucking good to have you bare.” I groan, pushing my hips up so she can feel my hard length between her legs. “My hard cock sliding into your warm, tight heat . . . Please, baby . . .”

“Noah.” She groans, her head dropping back. “Not until I’m on birth control.”

My stomach drops. Right. Like that’ll help.

“Hurry,” she murmurs with a final kiss to my lips before shimmying down my body until her feet touch the floor.

I inhale a deep breath and head for the bathroom. Stopping in the doorway with my cock jutting straight out in front of me, I catch my reflection in the mirror and don’t like what I see. There’s a haunted look in my eyes that wasn’t there before.

“Noah?” Olivia calls from the bedroom.

“Just give me a minute.” Crushed by rising panic and guilt, I close the door behind me.

Fred’s ominous warnings ring in my head. I thought I’d be able to convince Olivia by now, but I haven’t even managed to broach the subject with her yet, and we’re running out of time. My father’s legacy, Fred Cane’s dying wish, all of Tate & Cane’s employees . . . everything is at stake. I know I have to act, but how?

I grab one of the condoms from the counter. My erection, despite the stress swirling through my brain, hasn’t gotten the memo. I stare down at the little foil packet in my hands.

What in the fuck am I doing?
I feel utterly lost and confused. I’m falling in love with Olivia, more with every passing day . . . all while hiding the world’s biggest secret from her. Despite all our hard work, the company finances are so dismal, we’re still barely hanging on. A baby would solve so many problems. Tying up that last loose end of the contract would cement our inheritance and ensure that the board doesn’t sell our company out from under us, leaving us destitute—along with six thousand other people.

But Olivia will never agree to that. Hell, she’ll probably flip out and call off our whole arrangement if I tell her the truth. I’ve been racking my brain for weeks, trying to find the perfect sales pitch that will save everything I care about, and I just keep hitting the same brick wall.

I’ve always been so good with words, and now they’ve deserted me. Even if I knew what the fuck to say, the right moment never seems to come. And I can’t fight off the creeping terror that maybe . . .

Maybe it never will.

Maybe this conversation—this entire situation—really is impossible. Maybe there is no solution.

The thought makes me go numb. Moving on their own, my hands rifle through the vanity’s drawers and cabinets. I don’t know what I’m looking for until my fingers brush against it. My mother’s sewing kit. The little silver case she gave me the year before she died, when she taught me how to sew a button back onto my favorite shirt.

I pull out a needle and look down at its glinting sharp point. I test the end on my finger and feel its bite. A tiny red droplet wells up, grows rounder, heavier, until it rolls down my finger, leaving a vivid trail, but I still don’t move. I just stare stupidly at the stained needle tip. Silver shining through a film of red.

I feel like I’m in a dream—one of those nightmares where you can’t run fast enough, like trying to wade through quicksand. My heart is slamming against my rib cage. What the fuck am I doing? Am I really . . . can I ever even
think
. . . ?

A gasp of shock pulls my focus to the door.

Olivia stands naked on the threshold, her mouth hanging open. Her wide-eyed disbelief quickly plummets into horror. She stumbles back, bumping into the wall behind her, her hand pressed to her mouth like she’s about to be sick.

I look down at my hands—one holding a condom, and the other, a needle. With a spasm of disgust, I throw the condom and needle into the sink.

“Olivia . . . w-wait, it’s not, I wasn’t . . . !” My voice is hollow, unconvincing even to me.

A sob of pain tumbles from her open mouth. When I look back up, my wife is running away, her lovely face twisted with betrayal.

Not knowing what else to do, I follow her, hoping it’s not already too late . . . and knowing that it is.