Her breath left her in a rush as he pushed her hard against the nearest wall. His erection prodded her sensitive flesh, and the last ounce of her resistance dissolved. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her hands finding their way into his hair as he cupped her breast, and her back arching in a silent request for more.
He paused to brush his thumb across the nipple straining the fabric of her shirt before smoothing his palm over the contours of her waist and hip. Then he shifted, and his questing fingers slid beneath the waistband of her yoga pants.
“So wet,” he groaned. The pad of his thumb circled the top of her sex as his middle finger eased inside. “Been thinking about this all night, have you?”
“Fuck you.” Her words lacked conviction though he knew a part of her wanted to shove him away or hell, even kick him in the balls, before telling him to fuck the hell off. But her body remembered this—instinctively reacting to his lips, his tongue, his touch.
He tore his mouth from hers, dragging his lips down her throat. “Only if you say please,” he said, sinking his teeth into the curve of her neck.
Olivia’s head fell back on a gasp. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
He smiled against her skin. “Not as much as you’d like feeling me inside you.” His teeth grazed her jaw as a second finger joined the first. Olivia clutched his hair as her hips circled and rocked against his hand. Almost, he thought. He kept up, torturing her in a steady rhythm until her legs began to tremble. “Say it,” he whispered. “Tell me what my filthy girl wants.”
“Fuck me.” She was practically panting with need. “Please.”
Cole staggered back, then in a surge of power lifted Olivia into his arms. She clung to him, holding tight as he carried her down the hallway to his bedroom. With a sharp kick, the door swung open, and a moment later she was on her back, his weight pressing her into the mattress. Her greedy hands gathered fistfuls of his shirt and began yanking it out of his pants. “Too many clothes,” she managed between desperate kisses.
“Impatient are we?” Cole rose up onto his knees, his hard-on straining the front of his pants as he yanked his tie off and tossed it aside.
“This means nothing,” she said, pulling her T-shirt over her head.
He began to unbutton his shirt, but his fingers stilled as she unhooked her white lace bra. “Not at all.”
“I don’t even like you.”
Cole reached for the waist band of her yoga pants and in a smooth motion swept them down her legs along with her thong. He paused, his hungry gaze drinking in the sight of her naked body stretched across his bed. “Right back at you,” he murmured. Without taking his eyes off her, he made quick work of his shirt, then undid his buckle and yanked open his fly. In one fell swoop he dropped his pants and boxer briefs. The erection that sprang free had her biting her lip in anticipation.
She watched as he retrieved a condom from the bedside table and rolled it down his length. When he finished, he climbed over her and dipped his head, flicking his tongue across her nipples before tugging one sharply between his teeth. A soft gasp escaped her lips as he sucked the taut peak into his mouth. Sweet hell, he’d missed this.
Her hands raked over his back, clawing and scratching. Their little contraception intermission had done nothing to lessen her need. If anything, watching him had only seemed to make her more desperate. “Now, Cole.”
For once he didn’t argue with her. Gripping the back of Olivia’s thigh, Cole surged forward, his breath hissing between his teeth as he entered her on a solid stroke. “Fuck.” She felt so good, too good. The sensation alone was nearly enough to make him lose it, and when he started to move there was little doubt this was going to be hard and fast.
“So good,” she moaned. Her body bowed as he fucked her in slick, relentless drives that had her fingers clutching the white linen sheet. He leaned closer, sucking and nipping her skin with each possessive thrust.
“Come for me.”
Her grip on the bed sheets tightened as he felt her climbing higher and higher. Cole quickened his pace, maintaining the unforgiving rhythm until an explosive orgasm racked her frame.
“That’s it,” he growled, but he didn’t let up. His movements grew wilder and more intense as he pushed her to the edge once more. “Again,” he grunted. As if triggered by his command, she splintered apart a second time. Cole was right there with her. He groaned then his hips jerked and his head dropped as he rode out his own release.
Once the tremors subsided, he collapsed on top of her, his head resting against her chest. They lay like that for long, silent moments until their collective breathing slowed.
“Happy birthday,” Olivia said when she’d regained the ability to speak.
Cole chuckled as he rolled back onto the mattress. “My birthday, but I believe you are the one who got the present.”
Olivia shook her head. “Do you have to ruin every moment?”
“Unless I’m mistaken, you did get to blow out the candles twice.”
She laughed out loud.
“Fine,” he conceded. “We can call it a mutually beneficial celebration.”
“Hmmm.” Olivia’s eyes darted around the room and for the first time she took in the sight of Cole’s bedroom.
He shot her a curious look.
“Can tell a lot about a man by his bedroom,” she explained.
“Such as?”
“Such as you clearly have issues with color.” With the exception of the dark wood furniture, everything in Cole’s room was white. The pillows, the duvet, even the couch that sat facing the fireplace on the far side of the room.
“A designer picked all this, Olivia. I’m afraid the head you’re shrinking is hers.”
“Or perhaps all this is merely the reflection of how she saw you.”
He lifted a brow. “Bland and cold?”
“Your words, not mine,” she teased.
Cole smiled, and this time it actually reached his eyes. “Let me take care of this,” he said, nodding to the used condom. “Then I can give you a tour, and you can analyze what the rest of the house says about me.” He rolled out of bed and headed into the bathroom. When the door closed, Olivia reached for one of the many down pillows, placed it over her face, and let out a muffled scream. What the hell was she doing? She despised this man. His entire life went against the grain of everything she stood for. And yet the passion that exploded between them whenever they were in the same room was undeniable. But while there was a fine line between anger and lust—one the two of them seemed to hopscotch across depending upon which way the wind blew—what surprised her more was the tone of that pillow talk. Not only was their conversation non-confrontational, it was light and jovial and holy hell, did they just exchange genuine smiles?
She lifted the pillow from her face and gazed at the closed bathroom door. Cole was just on the other side. And while Olivia knew she was in serious danger of blurring the lines into a streaky mess, at the moment what she wanted more than anything was to join him in the bathroom for a steamy shower. Ooooh, or maybe a leisurely soak in the tub. No doubt Cole had a bathtub that, like his bed, was obscenely large. The thought of their wet, soapy bodies sliding over each other in an oversized Jacuzzi tub sounded like the perfect way to end the day. She flung the covers back, intending to suggest just that when Cole’s phone started to ring.
Once, twice, three times. A moment later a voicemail alert sounded followed by a text alert. Wow, someone was really anxious to get in touch with him.
Olivia knew she should ignore it. Cole’s messages were none of her business. Then again, she was his wife. She chewed her bottom lip while she considered her next move. Fuck it, she thought, one peek won’t hurt. She scooted closer to his side of the bed and leaned over to fish his phone out of the pocket of his pants. No big deal, she told herself. It wasn’t like she planned to hack his emails. All she wanted was just a quick glance at the lock screen.
“Missed Call and Voicemail: Rebecca,” it re
ad. Below that there was a text message from her as well.
Thanks for the flowers. See you tomorrow. xx
Olivia’s throat tightened, and her hands trembled with a combination of anger and embarrassment. Her husband was sending flowers to another woman. And there she was, in his bed. Naked. Like some kind of fool. Well, not for long. Olivia wrapped the sheet around her body and scrambled to gather her clothes.
The door behind her opened and Cole emerged from the bathroom, his body wet and glistening. From the looks of it he’d had a similar idea about that steamy shower, only his version hadn’t included her. He had one towel slung low around his hips and another in his hand, scrubbing the water from his hair. “I’m starving. Do you want to order some take out?” He pulled the towel away from his face and froze. “Where are you going?
Summoning as much dignity as she could muster, Olivia straightened. “To find a room,” she said, looking him square in the eyes.
For a moment, Cole seemed confused, and if she hadn’t known better, maybe even a little hurt. But then his face hardened, and he shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Olivia started for the door then turned back. Cole had dropped the towel and was pulling on a pair of jeans. Everything about him was so fucking perfect, from the hard planes of his chest to the rippling muscles of his abs, to the firm curves of his very fine ass. Too bad that was just the packaging. What lay beneath wasn’t nearly so perfect. Which was why, despite her body begging her to drop the sheet and drag Cole back to bed, Olivia listened to her brain. “Look,” she said, “this doesn’t change anything. I had an itch and you scratched it.” She’d made the declaration in an attempt to set the record straight. Problem was, she wasn’t entirely sure which one of them needed the reminder.
Cole was working the buttons on a white linen shirt. He didn’t even bother to look up. “Good night, Olivia.”
“Good night.” With that she turned and made her way back down the hall in search of one of the guest rooms. It was a shorter walk of shame compared to the one she’d done in Vegas, but a walk of shame no less. What was the matter with her? She was better than this. At least she usually was. But when she was with Cole it seemed like all logic, not to mention self-control, went out the window. He was a jerk. An overbearing, egotistical, womanizing jerk. So what was it about this man that made her panties damp and her brain numb? It had to stop, and it would. With each step, her resolve grew stronger. Married or not, she was taking a vow of celibacy. It didn’t matter how many times he could make her come, or how unbelievably hot he looked wearing nothing but a stupid towel, Olivia was never, ever, ever having sex with Coleman Grant again.
Chapter Twelve
Olivia had never seen dresses with such outrageous price tags. Not that she wore dresses that often, but if her life depended on it, she wouldn’t have worn one that cost $2,500. And yet there she was debating between four gowns that each cost twice her monthly rent. In the end, she settled on a black gown with a diamond cut neckline. The ruched fabric hugged her curves through the bodice and hip before flaring in soft folds that touched the floor. It might have represented a bygone era, but either way, it was the most beautiful dress she’d ever seen.
Cole’s assistant had sent over a pair of shoes and a matching clutch earlier that morning as well as several pairs of earrings nestled in a red leather box. Olivia knew from her walks down Michigan Avenue that the red boxes meant Cartier, and to her that meant only one thing: ridiculously expensive. Which is why she left them untouched and opted instead for the pearl earrings her parents had given her when she graduated from college. She kept her makeup light and natural and pulled one side of her hair back in a mother-of-pearl clip, letting the rest fall around her shoulders in soft waves.
When she was done, Olivia stepped in front of the full-length mirror. She expected to see some twisted version of Cinderella staring back at her, but instead she found something altogether different and not entirely unpleasing. And as much as it pained her to admit it, she did feel somewhat like a princess. Too bad her Prince Charming was actually a toad.
Grabbing her purse off the bed, Olivia started the long walk from her bedroom. She’d chosen the one the farthest distance from Cole’s, which had gone a long way in helping her avoid him over the last three days, but it also meant she was the farthest distance from the rest of the penthouse. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now that she was tottering on skyscraper heels, she wasn’t so sure.
When she made it to the living room, Olivia paused. Cole stood with his back to her, gazing out across the Chicago skyline. His handsome face was reflected in the dark glass, and even through that lens, the site of him was enough to make her mouth go dry. But despite his breathtaking features, Olivia couldn’t help but notice the tension that simmered below the beautiful surface. His clenched jaw, grim frown, and furrowed brow were all indicative of his mood. He was a troubled sovereign surveying his kingdom, not a man at ease in his home.
Olivia cleared her throat. “Ready to roll?”
Cole turned, then stilled. If she’d thought the view from the rear was impressive, it was nothing compared to the impact of Coleman Grant head on. Olivia was accustomed to the CEO version, the one who dashed in and out of coffee shops in dark suits and designer sunglasses. And on one crazy night, she’d seen a more relaxed version. Granted, he’d still worn the same designer shades, but his demeanor and mood that night in Vegas had been completely different from the up-tight control freak with the stick permanently wedged up his ass. But the man who stood before her now was an altogether new experience. In his black tuxedo, he looked every bit the billionaire playboy, casually confident and stunningly handsome. The type of man who could walk into a swanky event and have his pick of any girl in the room.
Olivia broke their stare, opening her clutch in search of nothing in particular.
“The gown you chose is very becoming on you,” he said.
She looked up at him and laughed. “Becoming? You just have to dress like you’re from the nineteen forties, Cole, not speak that way.”
He frowned. “Always busting my balls, aren’t you? Even when I’m merely attempting to pay you a compliment.”
“Sorry,” she said, trying her best to act contrite. “Start over.”
Cole rolled his eyes but then straightened his spine and cleared his throat. “The dress you chose looks very nice on you.”
Olivia cocked her hip to one side in a stance reflective of both her irritation and boredom. “Seriously, that’s the best you can do?”
“What?” he asked, taken aback. “I said the dress looks nice.”
“And that usually works for you?”
He stared back at her nonplussed. “Quite well. Why?”
Olivia shook her head. Coleman Grant III was too pretty and too rich for his own good. Clearly, he’d never had to work a day in his life, not for cash and not for women either. Not if they fell into his bed with nothing more than a half-ass compliment like that one. “Because you still made it about the dress and not about the woman wearing it.” She struck her best version of a runway pose. “Try again.”
Fiery blue eyes raked over her from head to toe. “You look beautiful tonight, Olivia, a perfect blend of sexy and sophisticated.” He sauntered toward her, closing the distance between them until his face was mere inches from hers. She could feel the heat radiating off his skin, smell the fresh scent of his cologne and the mint of his toothpaste. But more than that she could see the dark appreciation in his gaze. “And the dress you chose makes you look like a siren to rival any on the silver screen.” A hint of a smirk played across his lips. “Not wearing those combat boots underneath, are you?”
Always the smart ass. And he’d been off to such a good start too. But then his true personality had come through and ruined everything. Well, two could play at his little game.
Olivia dropped her chin and gazed up at him from beneath her lashes. “I’m not wearing anything underneath,” she said. The br
eathy tone of her voice surprised even her and, worse than that, sounded like it was straight out of a romance novel. But despite the cheesiness of the line, it was true. Not because she’d planned on seducing or even tormenting Cole, but because unlike jeans, silk gowns were unforgiving when it came to hiding panty lines. Even a thong left a bitch of a line at her hip. So in a last minute decision, she’d opted to go commando. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now that she was standing in front of Cole, shifting her legs to keep the cool air from teasing her heated flesh, Olivia wondered if she’d made the right call. But more than that, what she really wanted to know was if her wardrobe choice was having the same effect on Cole that it was currently having on her.
His throat worked a hard swallow. Oh yeah, she thought, he was affected all right. Now time to leave him hanging.
“We better get going,” she said. “I haven’t met your grandmother, but if she’s anything like you, she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Cole gave a tight nod. “One more thing.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. With a flick of his thumb he opened it to reveal a stunning square-cut diamond ring.
“What the hell is that for?”
“Consider it a prop.” He gave a dismissive shrug. “You can’t very well attend the Grant Industries gala without a proper engagement ring. Believe me, it will be the first thing on my grandmother’s list.”
She leaned in for a closer look. Not that she needed to. The sparkles reflecting off the facets could have probably been seen from outer space. “Is it real?”
He looked at her as though she’d lost her mind. “Of course it’s real.”
Olivia reared back as though the diamond might bite her. “What the fuck, Cole? I can’t wear that.”
“You can, and you will.” Cole took the ring out of its box. “Although you’ll have to forgive me for not dropping to one knee,” he added with the smirk.
Black Tie Optional (Wild Wedding Series Book 1) Page 11
