Chapter 45 Olivia
OLIVIA
The silk sheets stick to my skin like a second layer of sweat. I kick them off, but a minute later, I’m shivering so bad that I pull them back up.
Too hot. Too cold. Too damp. Too dry.
Too something, that’s for damn sure.
Stefan’s yacht rocks gently on the waves, but my body feels like it’s caught in a hurricane. Every nerve ending is alive, electric, screaming for something I refuse to name.
Go back to sleep, I order myself.
My body just laughs at the suggestion.
I’ve been lying here for what feels like hours, replaying our conversation from earlier. Stefan’s promise about our child.
I’ll be there. You have my word.
God, I’m so screwed.
Well, not literally. Not tonight, anyway. Stefan disappeared into his office after dinner, claiming he had to attend to some urgent business calls.
I assume that’s code for “I need to violently dismember someone” or “time to launder millions through offshore accounts” or whatever. Y’know, normal business stuff.
I roll onto my stomach and bury my face in the pillow. Unfortunately for me, it smells like him. Everything on this damn boat smells like him.
“This is ridiculous,” I mutter.
I’m a grown woman. A doctor. I have two degrees from Harvard and a thriving—okay, struggling—fertility clinic. I should not be writhing around in bed like a teenager with her first crush.
Except it’s not a crush.
It’s worse.
It’s whatever you call it when your body craves someone so badly it physically hurts. When you can’t think about anything except the way their hands feel on your skin. When you’re perfectly willing to overlook the fact that they almost definitely have bodies buried in concrete somewhere.
Chemistry, my analytical brain supplies.
Insanity, my survival instinct counters.
But what’s really going to drive me insane is tossing and turning here for even a millisecond longer. I’ll get up and go stargaze or something. Anything beats this damp, sweaty straitjacket of a bedsheet.
I walk down the hall, a playful breeze kicking up the hem of my robe. A thin line of light glows beneath Stefan’s office door at the end of the corridor. Male voices drift through—Stefan’s low rumble and another I recognize as Taras, crackling via speaker phone.
On second thought, I should go back to bed. I definitely should not go snoop. Didn’t I do that already? Didn’t it turn out pretty badly? Didn’t I learn my lesson?
… Guess not.
Because my feet carry me forward anyway.
I pad closer, telling myself I’m just getting water. The galley kitchen happens to be past his office. Pure coincidence.
“—clinic’s hemorrhaging cash,” Taras is saying. “Walsh poached another two clients this week.”
I freeze outside the door.
“I know,” Stefan replies.
“Then why are we throwing resources at it? There are easier ways to launder money.”
“It’s not about the money.”
“No? Then what—” Taras pauses. “Christ. You don’t mean—?”
“Drop it.”
“You’re restructuring our entire East Coast operation for pussy?”
Something crashes. Glass, maybe.
“I’m going to hang up the phone now,” Stefan snarls in a voice that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “And I’m going to remind you that if you ever say some shit like that to me again, I’ll gut you like a fucking fish. Goodnight, Taras.”
Click.
Heavy footsteps approach the door. I scramble backward, but there’s nowhere to hide in the narrow hallway. Before I can figure out what to do, the door opens and Stefan is standing there, looming. His hair is a mess and the bags under his eyes are dark and heavy.
I brace myself for rage, but he just sighs. “Can’t sleep?”
“I heard you yelling,” I mumble. “Is everything okay?”
Stefan shakes his head wearily. “It’s fine. Nothing for you to worry about.”
“You were discussing my clinic.” Before he can deny it, I drive ahead.
“I know the numbers are bad… I know it’s not the most profitable business to invest in, but I also need you to know that it is worth saving.
And I can save it. I just need time. I know it doesn’t look like it, but I’ve been working really hard.
My methods are good; the science behind it is good.
I believe in my business model. I just—”
“I know.”
“If I can just get some funding to improve a few of the internal processes, then we really will be the best-in-class, and it’ll be so compelling to these women, we can help them, truly help them, in a way that no one else—”
“Olivia.”
The way he says my name stops me mid-sentence.
“Come with me.”
He takes my hand and leads me inside, then settles into the chair in front of his desk with me standing between his knees.
I stay there awkwardly, stiff, unsure.
His hand finds my waist, fingers splaying across the silk. “You’re trembling.” His other hand joins the first, bracketing my waist. The heat from his palms burns through the thin fabric.
“You think I’m pathetic, don’t you?” I whisper. “Needing you to save my business.”
“Is that what you think?”
“My mother would. She’d say I’m proving her right. That I can’t succeed without a man’s money.”
Stefan’s grip tightens. “Your mother is a fool.”
I laugh in his face. “My mom has a billion honorary degrees and more than one magazine with her face on the cover.”
He doubles down. “She’s a fool who can’t see what’s right in front of her.” He pulls me until I’m straddling his lap, the robe knot slipping and falling open. “I didn’t invest in your clinic because you needed saving.”
“No?”
“I invested because you refused to compromise your principles even when it would have been easier. Integrity is the rarest thing in this world, Dr. Aster.”
“Stefan—”
“I believe in your methods. I believe in your research.” His eyes lock on mine. “I believe you’re brilliant and capable and worth every fucking penny.”
It’s the conviction that does it for me. The absolute certainty.
No one has ever believed in me like this. Not my parents. Not my professors. Not even myself.
“Why?” I croak.
“Because I know what it’s like to build something from nothing. To have everyone doubt you.” His hand moves up to cup my jaw. “To prove them all wrong.”
With that, I do the only thing left to do.
I kiss him.
Stefan groans against my mouth, one hand tangling in my hair while the other pulls me tighter against him. I can feel him hardening beneath me, and it sends a bolt of pure need straight to my core.
“We shouldn’t,” I gasp when we break for air.
“No,” he agrees.
Then he kisses me again.
His hands are everywhere. Sliding the robe off my shoulders. Skimming up my thighs. Cupping my breasts through the silk. I arch into his touch, grinding against him like my life depends on it.
“Fuck,” he mutters against my throat. “You’re going to kill me.”
He bites down where my neck meets my shoulder, and I see stars. “Stefan—”
He stands abruptly, lifting me with him. Papers go flying as he sets me on the desk and steps between my legs.
“Tell me to stop,” he says.
“No.”
“Tell me this is just the contract.”
“It’s not.”
“Tell me—”
“You can’t make me say anything that will make this feeling go away, Stefan. I would know—I’ve tried.” I grab his face and pull him down to me. “So just shut up and touch me.”
He does.
His mouth travels down my throat while his hands push the robe completely off. I’m left in just the silk panties, exposed and trembling under his gaze.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, then leans down to take one nipple in his mouth.
I gasp, my hands flying to his hair. He lavishes attention on one breast, then the other, until I’m writhing on the desk.
“Please,” I beg.
“Please what?”
“You know what.”
“Say it.”
“I need you.”
He pulls back to look at me. “Where?”
“Stefan—”
“Where do you need me, Olivia?”
My face burns, but the fire in his eyes makes me bold. “Inside me.”
He groans and claims my mouth again, his hand sliding between my legs.
“So wet already,” he murmurs against my lips. “Is this for me?”
“Yes.”
“Only me?”
“Only you.”
He pushes the panties aside and slides one finger inside me. I cry out, my hips bucking against his hand.
“So tight,” he says. “So perfect.”
He adds another finger, pumping slowly while his thumb circles my clit. I’m already close, embarrassingly fast, but I don’t care.
His face is inches from mine, his eyes dark with desire. “You can try not to scream,” he says. “But you’re going to lose that battle.”
“Oh, you arrogant—”
He curls his fingers, hitting that spot that makes me see God.
And sure enough, I scream.
He swallows the sound with his mouth, kissing me through an orgasm that tears through me like lightning.
I’m still shaking when he pulls his hand away and starts unbuckling his belt.
“Turn around,” he says.
“What?”
“Turn around. Hands on the desk.”
I obey on unsteady legs, bracing myself against the lacquered wooden surface. Behind me, I hear the whisper of his zipper.
“Spread your legs.”
I do.
“Wider.”
I spread them as far as they’ll go, feeling exposed and vulnerable and desperately turned on.
Stefan’s hand slides up my spine, pushing me forward until my chest is pressed against the desk. “That’s a good girl.”
He pushes into me in one smooth thrust. We both groan.
“Blyat’,” he mutters. “You feel incredible.”
He starts to move, slow at first, then faster. Each thrust pushes me harder against the desk, the edge digging into my hips. I don’t care. All I care about is the feeling of him inside me, filling me completely.
“Harder,” I plead.
He complies, his hips snapping against mine with enough force to shudder the desk.
“Is this what you wanted?” he growls. “Is this why you came to my office wearing practically nothing?”
“Yes.”
“Say my name.”
“Stefan.”
“Again.”
“Stefan!”
His hand slides around to find my clit, rubbing in tight circles. “Good girl. Now, come for me, Olivia. Let me feel you.”
I blow up.
The orgasm rips through me. My walls clench and spasm around him as I cry out his name. Somewhere under my elbow, I hear the sharp crunch of a pen snapping in two. I don’t care. The wood is slick with sweat, with smeared ink, with my fogged breath.
Stefan’s hand fists in my hair and yanks my head back until I’m staring up at the chandelier that hangs low from the ceiling, its cut-glass edges scattering shards of light across the room. His breath is hot against my ear.
“You look like a fucking goddess,” he growls.
Then he slams into me harder.
I try to muffle the sounds ripping out of me, but when his hand snakes around and shoves aside a stack of leather-bound ledgers, using one to wedge beneath my hips to angle me higher, I cry out helplessly.
A crystal tumbler lies tipped on its side beside my cheek, amber liquid dripping slowly off the rim. Stefan notices. He reaches past me, presses the cool glass against my lips.
“Drink,” he orders, tilting it just enough that the burn of whiskey floods my mouth. I choke, swallow, the raw heat of it mingling with the even fiercer burn of him inside me.
He fucks me harder, faster, until my body bows under the strain, until there’s no Olivia and Stefan, only friction and fire and the storm we’ve created between us.
When one more release finally tears through me, I want to dissociate like I always do, because once the orgasms are done, the feelings will follow, and that’s a recipe for disaster.
But Stefan doesn’t let me drift. He holds me pinned to the desk until he comes, too.
“Stay here with me,” he snarls as he starts to erupt inside me. “Stay here and be mine.”
With a few more stuttering jerks, he finishes.
We stay like that for a while—him draped over my back, both of us breathing hard. Content just to share the same space.
Then Stefan pulls out slowly. He doesn’t go far, though. He stays behind me and brushes his hand down my spine. I can feel the tremor in his fingers.
“You made a mess of my office,” he mutters.
I laugh, hoarse, into the wood. “Fair is fair. You made a mess of me.”
He grips my chin and turns my head until I have to meet his eyes. They’re bloodshot, unblinking. “Good” is all he says.
Then he kisses me—quick, brutal, like punctuation.
When he finally lets me go, papers crunch under my bare feet as I slide off the desk. The robe is crumpled somewhere on the floor, but I can’t see where.
“Leave it,” he says when he catches me looking, catching my wrist. “Stay. Here. Like this.”
I hesitate, then I nod. “Alright,” I whisper. “I’ll stay.”