Chapter 12 #2
“Friday,” he ponders. “Okay. We can make that work. We need you to fly out to Seattle tomorrow to deal with Stromreou.”
That fucking asshole.
The partners have started bringing additional agents in on some of Pete’s more higher-profile clients. The ones who are going to require the most hand-holding during this transition. Just my luck, they’ve given me the biggest douchebags so far. “What did he do now?”
As low-key as I can, I let myself into the Triple Crown.
I may have originally negotiated with Logan for a few nights spent weekly at my own house, but after meeting with Nina last week, I realized that wasn’t much of an option.
Too many nights in Kroydon Hills leaves us open to questions, and I have no doubt Monica’s attorney will have someone watching us.
It’s what I’d do. Which leaves me commuting back and forth from New Jersey to Kroydon Hills.
I don’t expect it to be too difficult, even if today it is.
I slip inside and up the stairs to what I’m beginning to think of as our room—temporarily at least—and drop my bags to the floor and my ass to the bed. The rhythm of the rain I’ve been battling for the past hour on the highway suddenly relaxes me, and I close my eyes.
Just for a minute.
“Olive.” My name is a hushed whisper, one so soft, I’m not sure whether I’m dreaming or not. “Come on, Olive. It’s time for dinner.”
I force my eyes open and come face-to-thigh with my husband. Something I confirm after dragging my gaze up the rest of his body as he squats next to the bed in the darkened room. “Hey,” I croak, my sleep-soaked voice revolting against its use. “What time is it?”
“Around seven.” The back of his warm hand presses against my cool forehead, and my eyes close. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Not really,” I murmur. “I’ll be okay. I just needed to catch a few hours of sleep before I get on a red-eye tonight to deal with some asshole client in Seattle.”
“Seattle?” he questions, and I nod slowly. “When were you going to tell me about that?”
“Sorry” I murmur. “I just found out, and I promise I’d rather be anywhere but there. I’ll be back for court Friday. I promise.” I close my eyes and wince at a lovely little wave of dizziness.
“Hey . . .” His hand slides over my hair, and I whimper. “What’s going on, wife?”
“Flare-up,” I tell him. Something I wouldn’t normally share. I don’t like my weaknesses exploited, and this has always been a weakness. But I’m so tired and so weak right now.
“Look at me, Olivia.” His voice takes on an impressively commanding tone. One that unfortunately bounces around inside my head, but another day, another time, it would definitely dampen my panties. Another secret I’ll be taking to the grave. My eyes open and focus on his worried face. “Explain.”
“Relax, husband. I’m just anemic. I’m not dying before we get you custody of your daughter. I promise.”
“Don’t joke like that, Liv,” he snaps, and I feel unexpectedly guilty. “Can I get you anything?” He drags the tips of his fingers down my neck and over my pulse, like he’s checking to make sure I’m actually okay.
“Sorry. No. I don’t need anything. I have a prescription and take it faithfully.
It’s just a flare-up. I’ll be fine. Stress is a bitch and plays hell on my body sometimes.
Lucky me, now happens to be one of those times.
I just needed a nap. I’ll feel better when I get up and moving.
” I’d really rather not point out I just got over an especially heavy period that makes my flare-ups worse.
“Now stop looking at me like that, please.”
“Like what? Like I’m worried about you? Sorry, can’t do that because I am,” he argues, but at least it’s softly.
“Well don’t. Worrying isn’t part of the deal, Adler.” I force myself up and curse when I have to brace myself against his arms because the room swims. “I don’t like you, and you don’t like me, remember?”
“Maybe we need to renegotiate our deal then, wife.”
I stare at him. At his eyes. His mouth. His jaw. At the stubble I want to run my tongue and teeth over. At the lips I can still feel against mine.
This is such a bad idea.
I drop the hold I have on his bicep and slowly reach for his face. My thumb running over that delicious stubble. “And what would be the new terms?”
Shit. I’m supposed to be stronger than this.
“You tell me, counselor.”
I don’t want to like the way he always leaves the ball in my court, but I do.
I like the control he gives me as if knowing I need it.
“Enemies with benefits?” I frame the question softly. “Nothing changes. You hate me, and I hate you. But there’s obviously something here we could . . . explore while we’re married.”
Okay, that wasn’t so bad.
“No,” Logan snaps softly, and my head spins.
“What?” Thunder booms outside, and I jump, hating that he sees that too.
“Admit you don’t hate me, Olivia.”
Oh damn. There goes that growly voice again. But even that voice can’t make me admit something that’s not true.
“Sorry, Adler. But I don’t lie.”
His thumb ghosts over my bottom lip until my tongue darts out to taste it. The breath he sucks in is everything until I lock eyes with his. His eyes are even more intense. “No, wife. Your body doesn’t lie. But you do. Admit you don’t hate me, and I’ll give us both what we want.”
The heat in the room skyrockets between us.
Holy hell.
Do I think he could give me exactly what I want? Why yes. Yes, I do.
Will I take it at the expense of my pride?
Hell no.
Nothing is worth that price.
Carefully, I rise, not waiting for him to follow before I pull my blouse over my head and drop it to the floor on the way to the bathroom.
I unzip my skirt next and let it slide down my legs and fucking relish in the groan that rumbles deep in his chest. I might not work out enough to have the ass of steel my sister has, but mine isn’t bad, and the lingerie addiction I love to indulge makes it look even better.
So maybe I’m teasing him a little, but he started it.
I look over my shoulder, a grin pulling at my lips. “Sorry, husband, but I’m just as capable of giving myself what I want as you are. Don’t hold dinner for me. I need to . . . take care of something . . . before I come down.”
Fuck him and his demands.
Two can play this game.