The CEO's Contractual Wife

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.

dress as it rode up my thighs. “You know, somewhere

lips curled into a smile. “Are you afraid of me, Olivia? Afraid I might do

hand instinctively patted my purse. “But just so you know, I’ve got pepper spray

won’t do anything unless you agree to it. I’m many

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16:43

Chapter 12

agreed to dinner,” I reminded him, my voice firmer than

He nodded, eyes back on

255 Vouchers

sleek power and expensive engineering. I tried to focus on the passing lights outside, but kept feeling

Again.

And again.

I couldn’t take it anymore. “Do my tits have something written on

twitched. “Excuse

draw his attention back to them. “What is it with men and tits anyway? They’re just fat deposits with

that what you

movies, Instagram.” I waved my hand dismissively. “Yet men act like they’ve discovered buried treasure

whitened on the steering wheel. “Your breasts aren’t just ‘fat deposits

what

L

He pulled into an underground garage beneath a towering high-rise, smoothly avoiding my

he parked

building was imposing, all glass and steel stretching toward the

with his hand on the small of my back, the heat of his palm burning through

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

upward, my stomach dropping as we ascended. I pressed myself against the opposite wall, but there was no

never answered my question,” I said, breaking the

hit the elevator wall as he leaned down,

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