“Give it to me.” I thrust up, claiming her.

“It’s yours.” She presses back down on me, so deep.

My chest fills with love for this amazing woman, and I’m overcome by emotion. Burying myself in her over and over again affirms everything that is right about our union.

“Mine,” I growl out.

“Always.” She sobs, already breathless from pleasure.

Always.

Chapter Eleven

Olivia

“In summation, it would be in the best financial interests of the board to retain Tate & Cane Enterprises,” I finish breathlessly, glancing at Noah. “How was that?”

“Great. I think we’ve got this.” He gives me a weary smile. “Like I said after our last two practice runs.”

I chew my lip, which I’ve already bitten raw over the course of the night. “Should we rehearse one more time? I don’t know if my delivery is as convincing as it could be. And maybe I should make those extra slides I was talking about earlier. Our argument could always stand to be stronger—”

Noah reaches out to squeeze my shoulder, both to interrupt me and to reassure me. “Snowflake. Calm down. Our presentation is fine. And it’s one in the morning—I’m exhausted and I’m sure you are too. At this point, getting a good night’s sleep will do more to help our argument than a hundred graphs.”

“Okay, okay.” I sigh in defeat. Just the mention of the word sleep triggers a yawn.

“See? Let me take you to bed.”

My lips quirk and I raise my eyebrow at him slightly. “What’s with that tone? I thought you wanted sleep.”

He smiles back. “Don’t worry; I do. Sex can wait until tomorrow night, after we’ve kicked ass with our presentation and saved the world.”

Another yawn interrupts my chuckle as Noah leads me to bed.

• • •

That night, still laughing in triumph, we pile through our penthouse’s front door like a couple of college kids who just graduated.

“We did it! We saved our whole fucking company!” I whoop aloud, kicking off my heels. Even after all our hard work, I can still barely believe we convinced the board to let Tate & Cane live. Although the unfulfilled heir clause lost us our shares, we still have our jobs as the head of the company. We can still live our legacy, and really that’s all we ever wanted.

“Damn right we did. We were unstoppable in there.” Noah lifts me by the waist and spins me around the entry hall, making me squeal in surprise and delight. “And it was your brilliant party idea that saved our asses, Snowflake.”

“Don’t even try to act so modest. I couldn’t have managed that horrible mountain of work without you.” I playfully slap at his shoulders—the only part of him I can reach in this position. “Now, put me down so you can pour us some drinks.”

“Another great idea. I’ll crack open a nice cold bottle of champagne.” Noah sets me back on my feet, shucks his suit jacket, and tosses it over the back of a chair.

“You already have one chilled?” I ask, following him into the kitchen.

“Last night I figured if we won, we’d want to celebrate, and if we lost, we’d want to drown our sorrows.”

“What a vote of confidence. You should have told me that you were sure we’d win.”

He shrugs, giving me a crooked smile. “Yeah, but we did win, right?”

I take two flutes down from the cupboard while Noah gets the champagne from the fridge and uncorks it. There’s something magical about the sound of a champagne bottle popping—it feels like a mini celebration in and of itself. Noah pours both our flutes full to the brim.

“To success in business, to victories hard won . . . and to unstoppable couples,” he says, raising his glass into the air.

“To all that stuff.” I pick up my flute, clink it against his, and take a long sip, relishing the sweet bubbles bursting over my tongue.

“Now, where’s my congratulatory kiss?”

Rolling my eyes, I lean in and give him a peck on the lips. He lets out a low murmur of appreciation and tries to pull me in closer, but I draw back.

“That was it?” he protests.

“Let me at least get through a single glass of champagne first. I’m not done savoring our triumph yet.”

When we polish off our first glasses, Noah pours us both another round. “What should we toast to this time?”

“Hmm,” I say thoughtfully. “You covered a lot in our first toast. How about . . . to marrying well?”

Noah blinks at me, then nods, a grin slowly spreading over his face. “I like that one.”

I clink glasses with a smile of my own. I guess I surprised him. But he, and all the joy he brings me, surprised me first.

Noah ends his drink by heaving a satisfied sigh. “This is great.”

I nod emphatically. “I know. God, it feels so amazing not to have the board’s decision hanging over our head anymore.”

“Well, that too.” He beams at me. “But I was also talking about spending time at home with you. I can’t think of the last time we just hung out and had fun like this.”

Our separation wasn’t only because we’ve been so busy with work. I also wasn’t sure quite where we stood, and struggled to get my footing under me with this relationship. But all that pain is in the past—we talked over our feelings, we said all the things we needed to say, and now we’re trying to leave the whole ugly episode behind us.