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.

a public place,” I said, adjusting my dress as it rode up my thighs. “You know, somewhere

afraid of me, Olivia? Afraid

know, I’ve got pepper

to it. I’m many things, but not that

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16:43

Chapter 12

him, my voice firmer

back on the road. “Dinner it

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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

Again.

And again.

fifth time, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Do my tits have something written

lips twitched.

to draw his attention back to

what you

the population has them. They’re literally everywhere. Billboards, movies, Instagram.” I waved my hand dismissively.

the steering wheel. “Your breasts aren’t just ‘fat deposits with nipples,’

what

L

He pulled into an underground garage

an answer,” I muttered as he parked in

all glass and steel stretching toward the

of my back, the heat of his palm burning through 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

we ascended. I pressed myself against

my question,” I said, breaking the

back hit the elevator wall as he leaned down, his lips

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