The CEO's Contractual Wife (Olivia and Ryan) novel Chapter 12

Chapter 12

His eyes locked on mine as I approached, then dropped to take in my dress. His jaw tightened.

“Olivia.” My name sounded like sin on his lips. “You look… delicious.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. “Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

“I thought about sending a car,” he said, opening the passenger door. “But I wanted to see your face when you came outside.”

“And what does my face tell you?” I asked, sliding into the leather seat.

He leaned in, his cologne making my head swim. “That you’re wondering if this is a mistake.”

The door closed before I could respond. I watched him walk around the front of the car, his confident stride making my pussy clench involuntarily.

He slid behind the wheel and turned to me. “It’s not, by the way.”

“What’s not?”

“A mistake.” His eyes dropped to my breasts. “That dress certainly isn’t.”

I crossed my legs, aware of how the fabric rode up my thighs. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere private.” He started the car. “I thought about a restaurant, but I don’t want to share you with a room full of people tonight.”

The way he said “share you” sent a shiver down my spine.

“I have a reservation at my penthouse,” he continued, pulling into traffic. “My chef is preparing dinner.”

“Your personal chef?” I couldn’t keep the surprise from my voice.

“Is that a problem?” His eyes flicked to me briefly.

“I was expecting a public place,” I said, adjusting my dress as it rode up my thighs. “You know, somewhere with wit- nesses.”

Alexander’s lips curled into a smile. “Are you afraid of me, Olivia? Afraid I might do something inappropriate?”

“No, not like that,” I said, though my hand instinctively patted my purse. “But just so you know, I’ve got pepper spray in here, and I won’t hesitate to use it if you try anything.”

“I won’t do anything unless you agree to it. I’m many things, but not that kind of man.”

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Chapter 12

“I only agreed to dinner,” I reminded him, my voice firmer than I felt. “That’s all.”

“Alright.” He nodded, eyes back on the road. “Dinner it is.”

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The car purred through the L.A. streets, all sleek power and expensive engineering. I tried to focus on the passing lights outside, but kept feeling his eyes on me. When I glanced over, Alexander’s gaze darted back to the road, but not before I caught him staring at my cleavage.

Again.

And again.

By the fifth time, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Do my tits have something written on them I’m not aware of?”

His lips twitched. “Excuse me?”

“You keep staring at my breasts.” I adjusted the neckline of my dress, which only seemed to draw his attention back to them. “What is it with men and tits anyway? They’re just fat deposits with nipples. Nothing special.”

“Is that what you think?”

“Well, aren’t they? I mean, half the population has them. They’re literally everywhere. Billboards, movies, Instagram.” I waved my hand dismissively. “Yet men act like they’ve discovered buried treasure every time they see a pair.”

His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “Your breasts aren’t just ‘fat deposits with nipples,’ Olivia.”

“No? Then what are they?”

L

“We’re here.” He pulled into an underground garage beneath a towering high-rise, smoothly avoiding my question.

“That’s not an answer,” I muttered as he parked in a spot marked ‘Reserved: Penthouse.’

The building was imposing, all glass and steel stretching toward the night sky.

Alexander guided me with his hand on the small of my back, the heat of his palm burning through the thin fabric of my dress.

We stepped into a private elevator, and he pressed the button for the top floor. The doors closed with a soft hiss, trap- ping us in the confined space together. His cologne filled my nostrils-something expensive and masculine, a blend of spices and wood that felt as intoxicating as it was overwhelming.

The elevator lurched upward, my stomach dropping as we ascended. I pressed myself against the opposite wall, but there was no escaping his presence or that damn cologne.

“You never answered my question,” I said, breaking the silence.

Alexander stepped closer, towering over me. My back hit the elevator wall as he leaned down, his lips brushing my

ear.

“Your breasts,” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin, “are works of art. The way they swell above that dress, begging to be touched. The way your nipples harden when I look at you.” His hand came up, not touching me but

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Chapter 12

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