Chapter 3
3
VICTOR
O livia’s tiny. Most people are next to me, but she seems especially delicate and dainty in her cream-white dress that glitters beneath the low-hanging lights above us.
She won’t be this small for long.
Not when her belly swells with my children inside it.
Fuck, I better cut those thoughts out of my head immediately. My cock’s already as hard as steel, watching Olivia’s cleavage spilling out the V of her dress. Adding any more pressure won’t do the seams of my trousers any favors to stay intact.
“So, you studied abroad, met some guy, and hooked him so tight he followed you back here?” I grab my Old Fashioned off the table and ease back in my chair, playing along with the conversation as best I can.
It’s a first date. This is what people do. Talk about their pasts. Open up. Get to know one another. But that’s a skillset I’m sorely lacking, with my past being a quick climb up a short corporate ladder.
Jealousy isn’t a good look on me, but I can’t stop the green-eyed monster from rearing its ugly head. Talking about some dickhead following her around the world pisses me off, and yet Olivia talks about it as if it’s just another casual joke.
And it is to her.
I need to rein in my budding aggression toward the strawman Olivia’s poking fun at. He isn’t here, and I’ll look like a loon if I get upset over her ex.
“Crazy, right? We weren’t even really a thing, either. He kinda glued himself to my hip when I arrived in England and never let go. He’s been here for two years, hoping he actually stands a chance.” She’s giggling. That has to be a good sign. Olivia wouldn’t be nonchalant with her feelings if she thought there was a spark with this guy.
“Can’t blame him myself. Look at what you’ve done to me, and all we did was spend the morning and two courses of dinner together.” I exhale, relieved that I’m not in competition for Olivia’s affection. That wouldn’t do me or the Brit any good.
My feelings would be hurt, and he’d have to pick his teeth up from the floor.
“And there you go again.” Olivia looks at me with a hooded gaze as she nibbles on the end of her cocktail’s straw. “Saying all the right things to make me melt.”
She smiles and takes a long sip from her drink. Better enjoy it while you can, you sexy little thing. There won’t be time for casual drinks once I’ve pumped you full of my seed.
Christ, calm down. Eager as you are, you’ll scare Olivia off.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” I crook a brow and ease forward in my seat.
“It is, if you consider my normal skin tone isn’t sunburned red.” She crinkles her nose. I don’t know what it is about the cute gesture, but it makes me want to toss this table aside and throw myself into her even more than I wanted to before. Goddamn, what is this woman doing to me? “But enough about me. Let’s talk about you and all your crazy exes I’ll have to fight off with pitchforks.”
“For you to do that, there’d need to be an ex to fight.” I almost sound ashamed to admit it, but I’m genuinely not. “Until tonight, I haven’t been much of a dater.”
“Not even a naughty tango with a secretary on the sly?” Olivia’s eyes twinkle jokingly.
I shake my head. “Closest thing to a secretary I’ve gotten to is sitting right in front of me.”
She sucks in a deep breath, feigning shock. “Mr. Valentine, is that what you think this is? I’m shocked. Appalled. And more than a little intrigued.”
Olivia knows exactly what to say to send me over the fucking moon. She’s bubbly, fun, beautiful, and unapologetically herself.
She’s fucking amazing.
“Well, that could be arranged.” I jam two fingers into my glass, fish out a muddled cherry from the bottom, and pop it into my mouth. “Sooner than you’d think, I might add.”
I know the restaurant manager. If I had even the slightest belief Olivia was serious, I’d have cleared out the restaurant’s storeroom already.
“Excuse me, Mr. Valentine.” Our waiter, Tony, breaks my concentration on how fun it would be to indulge in something so scandalous. “Your desert is ready. Shall I bring it out?”
“Thanks, Tony. Yes, we’ll take it now,” I answer.
He shuffles off and returns a moment later with our dish in his hands. It’s a simple tart, at least at first glance. A thick pastry crust, red center, with a healthy application of whipped cream coating the top. Finally, but what might be most important, it seems, is a single spoon next to the pastry.
Tony, you scamp. The wingman I never asked for and probably don’t deserve.
We reach for the utensil in unison, and our fingers collide in an electrifying touch. Her soft skin against my rough hand is an instant reminder of how much I’ve missed spending my life chained to my office.
As our hands meet, so do our eyes. And for the first time all night, the playful smile on Olivia’s face shifts to something more akin to longing. Or maybe wanting.
God knows I feel it, too.
“Oh, sorry,” she says, whipping her hand back to her side of the table.
“For what?” I ask, basking in the tingling sensation her hand left against mine.
“I don’t really know.” Olivia raises her napkin above her face to hide away another bout of deepening red quickly replacing her otherwise neutral cheeks.
“It’s I who should do the apologizing,” I say, lifting the spoon and scooping a chunk of the tart onto it. “How dare I keep a lady from her treat?”
My knowledge about wooing is limited, but there are a few absolutes even I’m certain won’t steer me wrong. One is compliments. About the way she looks tonight. How perfect her outfit, hair, make-up, and all the rest are. The other is a moment like this.
The intimacy of feeding her from my hand. Watching as her eyes follow the spoon and her lips wrap around it. The soft hum of her enjoyment to the taste. How her eyes shift back to mine after she’s taken the bite, and while still enjoying it, they burn with lustful desire.
It’s fucking orgasmic.
“How is it?” I drop the spoon next to the tart and grab my napkin. Reaching over the table, I wipe away some of the whipped cream that landed on her lip.
And the look in her eye burns more intensely than before.
“Better than I imagined it would be.” She sounds nervous, as if she isn’t talking about the tart at all.
“Then you’re in luck because it’s all yours. I’m stuffed.” I pat my belly with the words.
The only moist treat I’m interested in is between her legs.
“I’ve got a better idea.” Olivia turns her attention to Tony and waves him over to us. “How about we take this to go?”
“And then what?” I raise a brow.
I could hazard a guess, but I really don’t want to get my hopes up.
“You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” She snickers to herself, but her deep blue eyes betray the mystery she’s trying to convey.
Before I know it, the bill’s paid, and we’re walking arm-in-arm back to my car. Ten minutes later, we’re outside Olivia’s apartment building.
As is standard, when driving with any woman, I open Olivia’s door and offer my hand to help her out of the passenger seat. She accepts it with a goofy smile that screams she hasn’t experienced this gesture I find so normal before.
“My, my, aren’t you a gentleman?” she teases but refuses to let go of my hand when she’s out.
“What can I say? I was raised right.” My entire body feels like a coil spring tightening to the point of explosion. All I’ve wanted to do since the second I saw her this morning is throw myself into her for a kiss. Get lost in her scent, her touch.
Fuck, just lost in Olivia completely.
Instead, since this is uncharted territory for me, I wrap my arms around Olivia’s shoulders and pull her into a hug.
Sure, I’ve had sex before—a few meaningless one-night stands that had no real chance of going anywhere—but I’ve never been in the company of someone I can see a life with.
Olivia slides her arms around my waist and squeezes me tightly.
“I’ve had a lovely time with you, Olivia,” I say when my thoughts turn from Take it slow to Lose control. Take her. Claim her. Make her yours. NOW!
If I don’t head out soon, I won’t be turning back at all.
“You’re not getting away from me this easily,” Olivia says sheepishly as she slowly peels her body away from mine. I hate how cold it feels without her against me. “And anyway, you’ve treated me to a nice night out. The least I can do in return is offer you a nightcap.”
“Is that right?” How can I decline, even knowing that if I say yes to this, there’s no going back for me? No matter what actually happens up there, she’s going to hook me, like she did that poor fucker who traveled across the world for her.
And even if I wanted to, I could never say no. I never want this night to end, let alone from my own foolish decisions.
“It is. So, what do you say?” She stares up at me with a puppy-dog pout.
“I hope you have whiskey because I don’t think coffee’s gonna cut it,” I answer with a joke as the spring inside coils tighter and tighter.