Then the meaning behind her gift slams into me. The conversation we shared about our moms comes rushing back. I don’t think anyone’s ever given me such a thoughtful gift before.

Olivia reaches into the shopping bag, pulls out two small cups, and sets them on the counter. “We can have tea together sometime . . . if you like.”

There’s a touch of uncertainty in her voice. Did she think I might not like that idea?

Well, I don’t. I fucking love it.

“That was very thoughtful of you, Snowflake.”

I thought my friend Sterling was the only one who got my obsession with tea, being that he’s British, but apparently Olivia is on board too.

I set the teapot down on the counter and pull her in close for a hug. I expect Olivia to go rigid in my arms, or even recoil with a comment about inappropriate physical contact. But instead she’s soft and warm, and her body molds to mine. Her hands rest on my shoulders and she watches me with wide eyes.

“Thank you,” I say, skimming my thumb across her jaw.

“No problem.”

“You know I’m going to kiss you at some point, right?”

We’re so close, I can hear her swallow. The very tip of her tongue pokes out—a quick, nervous lick that she doesn’t even seem aware of.

Damn, so cute . . . that’s a yes if I ever saw one. But I want more than just unconscious signals. I wait to see how Olivia decides to respond.

Finally, she gives me a small nod. “Maybe,” she says, trying to sound flippant.

I chuckle and release my hold on her. “Come on. You’ve got to check this place out. It’s incredible.”

“My dad went overboard, as usual.” She turns from me and gazes out at the balcony.

“Glass of wine first?”

“Why not?”

With a glass of red wine in hand, we make our way through the apartment. Olivia points out architectural details and discusses the shower schedule for the one bathroom we’ll share, while I just nod along and watch her.

Being here with her, listening to her ideas for decorating, sharing this space with her . . . it feels like a start. Maybe even the start of something real.

“This isn’t so bad, is it?” I tease.

She gives me a look. “Just because I nearly had a panic attack at the thought of living together doesn’t mean you get to gloat.”

“Fine. I won’t. But it’s a nice place. Your dad did well.”

She nods. Then she glances away for a second. “There’s something I wanted to tell you.”

We start down the hall, and I motion for her to continue in front of me.

“I’ve taken your proposition under advisement, and here’s what I propose.” Olivia’s tone is confident, her shoulders squared.

“My proposition?” I ask. She’s being so clinical, I can’t wait to hear her explain this.

She stops to look at me. “You know, that make-out idea you suggested at the bar last week. I’d be willing to try it sometime.”

Hell yes. I’m finally making some real headway here.

“Sure. We could do that.” Starting as soon as humanly possible.

“As long as there were parameters,” she continues.

Parameters. Rules. Guidelines. Why am I not surprised? This woman is unlike any I’ve ever met before. She certainly keeps me guessing.

“Such as?”

“First base only, as I believe you said. And fully clothed.” She narrows her eyes at my crotch. “Which means you keep that giant thing in your pants.”

“You think I’m giant?” I can’t help the smirk that uncurls on my mouth.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, stop fishing for compliments. You know it’s impressive, otherwise you wouldn’t have shoved it down my throat.” As soon as the words leave her mouth, her face flushes bright pink, her Freudian slip sinking in.

“Oh, Snowflake.” I pet her hot cheek with my thumb. “I haven’t shoved it down your throat yet, but I’m very much looking forward to that.”

“L-let’s just forget I said that. No one will be shoving anything anywhere. First base. Got it?”

I chuckle. “I’m happy to go as slow as you need to.”

And it’s the truth. Slow may not be my usual style, but there’s a certain satisfaction in knowing that I’m winning over her trust and readying her for more. The idea is quite gratifying. It will make my victory all the sweeter.

“This is going to work, me and you,” I tell her as we near the bedroom.

Yes, one fucking bedroom. And before you get excited, I summon up my willpower to tell her I’ll sleep on the motherfucking couch.

“You can have the bed,” I say, stopping in the hallway.

It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, no question. And since I did just tell her I was looking forward to putting my cock down her throat, I figure I have some making-up to do in the manners department.

“Are you sure?” Her voice is filled with surprise.

I swallow. “Of course. I’ll take the couch.”

Our gazes drift together from the modern, stylish tweed sofa in the living room to the massive king-sized bed down the hall dressed in fluffy down, and back to the couch again. There’s no way my six-foot-two-inch frame will even fit on that couch.

“You know what?” Olivia says brightly. “We’re two grown adults. It’s a huge bed. We can manage sharing it, right?”