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.

expecting a public place,” I said, adjusting my dress as it

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

though my hand instinctively patted my purse. “But just so you know, I’ve got pepper spray in here, and I won’t hesitate

do anything unless you agree to it. I’m many things, but not that kind of

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Chapter 12

reminded him, my voice

nodded, eyes back on the road. “Dinner

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kept feeling his eyes on me. When

Again.

And again.

my tits have something written on them I’m not

lips twitched. “Excuse

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

that what you

everywhere. Billboards, movies, Instagram.” I waved my hand dismissively. “Yet men act like they’ve discovered buried treasure every time they see a

knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “Your breasts aren’t

what

L

into an underground garage beneath a

as he parked in

glass and steel

my back, the heat of his palm burning through

a soft hiss, trap- ping us in

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

never answered my question,” I said, breaking

towering over me. My back hit the elevator wall as he

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