Olivia’s thighs open wider as she brings her heels up toward her butt. My view is fucking perfect. I can watch every shuddering breath that racks her chest, every heartbeat that makes her pulse riot in her throat, and every tiny quiver as I tease her pussy with light touches.

“You’re beautiful like this,” I say. “So responsive and wet.”

She moans again, circling her hips to meet my touch. “Noah . . . it’s been so long . . .”

When I think she can’t take any more of my teasing, I slide off the couch so I’m kneeling on the floor. Then I tug her hips until her ass rests on the edge of the sofa and her knees are spread wide enough to accommodate my shoulders.

“I’m going to make you come with my mouth. If you don’t want that, you better tell me now.”

We’re so close that I know she can feel my hot breath between her legs. She nods, her breasts heaving with anticipation.

Then I seal my lips around her swollen clit and suck—hard.

Her hips jerk up, her body trembling at my onslaught of erotic kisses. I have to hold her in place, clamping both hands around her thighs to keep her spread for me.

“Come on, baby, let go,” I whisper against her slick flesh, and then continue devouring her.

She’s breathing hard and whimpering softly, her moans so fucking sexy. Her taste, her scent, her cries of pleasure are all so intoxicating. It unleashes something inside me.

I can do this all night . . . but soon her entire body goes as rigid as an arrow and her hands push into my hair.

I lick her, over and over, smiling when she cries out.

“Oh God, yes!”

In a frenzy I lick her, my rhythm too fast, but I couldn’t slow myself down right now if I wanted to. She’s so close, and I want to be the one to take her there.

Olivia shouts my name as tremors ripple through her whole body. Just as she starts to come, I push one finger inside her, unable to resist the feel of her tight body gripping and squeezing around me.

Chapter Six

Olivia

Ho. Ly. Shit.

Abruptly boneless, I collapse back onto the cushions, hot and sweaty and out of breath. Noah’s mouth just blew my mind all over our living room sofa. I’m still trembling with the intensity of my release.

Noah sits back on his heels, smirking like the cat who ate the canary. Well, eating and pussies were involved, but not quite in that way . . . He makes a show of licking his bottom lip and then wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“Wow, Snowflake. Did that feel as good as you taste? It sure as hell sounded like it.”

My brain is too scrambled to come up with a snappy retort. Or any coherent words whatsoever, really. I just nod slowly at him, admiring him anew, like he’s not just Noah anymore but some strange, exotic species I’ve never encountered before. And shit, maybe I haven’t. Just the man’s tongue sent me into a spiraling orgasm so strong I saw stars.

His grin broadens. Damn, he looks so good, I don’t even care that I’m stroking his already overinflated ego. His handsome face is flushed, his dark eyes dilated and heavy-lidded, his hair mussed from where my fingers tangled in it. And if I look down, I can see an obvious bulge straining against the zipper of his slacks—complete with a wet spot at the tip.

Kneeling up, he slides his trim, toned waist between my thighs until our chests are pressed together. His damp lips brush the shell of my ear as he murmurs, “If you want it, there’s more where that came from.”

His clothed erection rubs into my bare, oversensitized clit and I gasp aloud. Unbelievably, a tendril of new heat curls through me.

I just had the orgasm to end all orgasms, but part of me does want more. I want to touch Noah. I want to feel our bodies moving together. I want that huge cock inside me, fucking me until I can’t walk straight. I want to see him come undone—it’s only fair, isn’t it? He got to watch me while I melted into a babbling, shaking puddle.

Almost of its own accord, my mouth opens to reply. The potential for enormous pleasure rests on the tip of my tongue. Tonight can go so much further, and all I have to do is reach out for him . . .

But then what will happen? What will “more” mean in the morning?

This is far from the first time that sleeping with Noah has crossed my mind. How can it be, with a sex god strutting around me all day every day? But now that the moment has actually arrived, staring me in the face, I find myself shrinking away from it. If I say yes, there’s no going back from this decision. That awareness paralyzes me with uncertainty. What if I lose my head, my heart, my company? All over a man . . . who’s a known player.

Now that I’ve started overthinking, I can’t stop. As far as I can tell, there are only two possible outcomes. Either tonight is just casual fun, where we’re nothing more than fuck buddies, or . . . sex will change everything between us. I don’t know how I feel about either option. I’m not ready for love, but I don’t like the idea of non-committed screwing either.

And then there’s the matter of how we came to be here in the first place. We’re in an arranged marriage, for Christ’s sake. Maybe our emotions have developed along the way, but that doesn’t change the fact that our relationship was originally rooted in business. This isn’t real. It almost feels like we’re using each other—even though it’s for the greater good, we’re still sacrificing our chances of finding real love with our real soul mates in the future while we each play the role we’re supposed to.

Things have already gotten way out of hand. Fuck . . . tonight was a mistake. I never should have let Noah tempt me. I should have told him to knock it off, and gone to bed.