Page 60 of The Temporary Fiancée
After a dizzying moment, he clears his throat. “I have to get back to work,” he says. “I’ll see you this evening, okay?”
“Sure,” I say, nodding.
He picks up the briefcase beside the hall table, then steps back inside the elevator, shooting me a wink as the doors slide closed.
Alone in his apartment, I wander over to the sitting area in a daze, flopping down onto one of the stone-white designer couches. I gaze at the ring on my finger, moving my hand to let the diamond catch and refract the light.
I can’t believe he would spend that much on me—that he would go out of his way to get something this expensive, thisbeautiful,to signify a commitment that isn’t even real.
Chapter 15
Reed
I’m going crazy.
There’s really no other way to put it. This woman is going to drive me insane.
That vibrator that I got for Olivia… it was just supposed to be a fun, mischievous little gift. Something to put her at ease with living together. There’s so much history between us, and so much sexual tension. The vibrator was just supposed to cut through the awkwardness. Prove to both of us that we can do this—that it doesn’t have to be difficult.
But instead, it’s become a new form of torture for me.
Sound doesn’t travel easily through the walls in this apartment, but it carries through the vents. It’s not perfectly soundproof. Which means that I can tell when Olivia’s using the vibe.
I can hear her faint, little noises, stifled moans, tiny sighs. I know she’s trying to be quiet, but that only makes it worse.
She uses it pretty often, and every time, it sends my imagination into a tailspin, picturing the ways she tries to keep quiet. In my mind’s eye, I can perfectly see her pursed lips, her cheeks red with the effort of holding back her squeaks of pleasure.
It makes me realize just how sexually frustrated she is. The same as I am.
Shit. We really are in this together, aren’t we?
The night after our engagement at Off-Fifth, Olivia uses the vibrator after an evening of drinks.
It was just the two of us in the penthouse. I wanted to give her a more relaxing celebration of our arrangement—one without outside spectators.
Unfortunately, that just meant that the two of us were sitting on the couch together, drinking. It meant that there was nothing to distract me from the sound of her laugh, or the way her sweatpants—mysweatpants—hugged her waist.
It goes on for close to an hour. I lay on my back in my bed, listening, until her little noises finally stop. My fingers dig into the sheets, and I close my eyes, images of her floating through my imagination. I manage to drift off, but when I wake up at six in the goddamn morning, my thoughts are still an endless cycle ofOlivia.
God, I need a reality check. I need to clear my head.
I push myself upright, blinking rapidly, then slide out of bed and shuffle into the bathroom. A nice shower and a good night’s sleep. That’ll fix this.
But the water hitting my face does nothing to cool the lust burning through me. Neither do the deep breaths I’m taking, trying to banish images of Olivia writhing against her sheets, legs spread wide as she works that pink toy against her slick pussy.
I scrub shampoo into my scalp with unnecessary force, rubbing soap against my arms while grinding my teeth in sexual frustration. My cock is already hard and getting harder by the second.
I groan, making a fist, desperately trying to erase the vivid pictures of Olivia’s flushed face twisted in pleasure, that damn vibrator pressed against her swollen clit.
It’s too much. I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t do something about this. I’m already unraveling.
I abandon washing my body and grip my cock. Eyes closed, I force myself to live in this moment. Maybe if I give myself this release, I’ll stop thinking about Olivia’s toy pulsing against her naked pussy.
The sounds she makes echo in my head—those breathy sighs she tries to muffle. The fact that she’s trying to stay quiet makes it worse. I want to be the one making her lose control.
My fist moves up and down my shaft as I let out a low growl, jaw clenched tight.
I picture Olivia in her bed, teeth sinking into her lip to keep quiet, heels digging into the mattress as she braces for another climax.
