“No?” I chuckle. Thank fucking God. I peel her thong down her legs and toss it over the side of the bed. “My kind of woman.”

I shift closer and part her legs, sliding her top knee over my hip, so she’s open for me. Then I rub the head of my cock over her clit, coating myself in her warmth and making her moan at the contact.

“That feels so good, Noah,” she cries, circling her hips, pushing herself closer.

“Need to make sure you’re ready for me.”

I bury my face against her neck, breathing in her familiar scent while I push one long finger inside her. She’s snug, and I take my time adding another finger before slowly withdrawing.

She reaches up to palm my cheek, feeling the stubble on my jaw. Her eyes never leave mine as I pump my fingers in and out.

“I want you, Noah.”

Her voice is just a whisper, and when I look in her eyes, I see the amount of courage it takes her to admit that. She’s been so strong, so resolute for so long, that sex will only complicate our business arrangement. I have no idea what changed her mind. Okay, so I have some idea—it could have been that orgasm I delivered the other night. There’s plenty more where that came from.

Just do it. “I know, baby. Soon. Nice and easy . . .”

I line myself up, shuddering at how warm and soft her wet opening feels on the tip of my cock. Easing in just an inch, I bite back a groan. Her body grips mine so tightly, it’s perfection.

Everything inside me wants to pump her full of my cum and watch her squirm, breathless as she comes down from the multiple orgasms I know I can give her. Instead my brain is screaming at me to stop this. To tell her the truth.

“Wait,” she says, placing one hand on my chest.

I’m almost relieved when she stops us. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t we need a condom? I’m not on birth control.”

“I . . .”

My heart is pounding and I feel light-headed, almost dizzy. Whether it’s because I’m desperate to feel her around me, or because I’m not cut out for the deception and devastation that lies ahead, I have no idea.

“I can’t do this,” I bite out.

“What? Why not?” Olivia sits up, peering down at me with confusion all over her features.

I look away. “I just can’t,” I repeat uselessly, unable to think of anything else.

“If this is about the condoms, I’ll run down to the drugstore. It’ll take ten minutes. Fifteen tops.” Her voice rises in concern.

I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I’m suddenly not feeling well.”

That’s not a total lie; my stomach is certainly churning. I climb out of bed and grab my boxers from the floor, slipping them on while Olivia scowls at me.

“What the hell, Noah?”

I don’t reply; I just grab my pillow from the bed and head to the couch. It’s going to be a long fucking night.

• • •

“So let me get this straight?” Sterling says around a mouthful of pancakes. “You feigned a headache like a bitter old housewife instead of fucking her?”

I jab my fork at my eggs, stabbing the runny yolks, my appetite gone. Of course I wasn’t sick last night. It was an attack of shame and regret.

“I couldn’t do it.”

Sterling shakes his head. “Of course you couldn’t. You need to stop behaving like a grunting caveman and talk with her about the contract. Use your words and have a real conversation about this. Which has been my position since the wedding, I’ll remind you.” He waves his fork at me for emphasis.

“Yeah, yeah. Shut it.” I take a sip of my tea while Sterling continues eating. At least one of us has an appetite.

After a sleepless night spent tossing and turning on the couch, I got up early and asked Sterling out to breakfast before work. We’ve never met up so early before, but he practically jumped at the invitation. He knew from the start that my arranged marriage was going to implode, and I think the bastard just wants a front-row seat.

“I don’t even know if she likes kids, if she wants kids,” I muse out loud.

“Yeah, that’s a problem.”

Damn him for always being the voice of reason. He makes all my conundrums sound so simple and obvious.

What I’m starting to realize is that there’s the spark of something more between Olivia and me. I can’t deceive any woman about this, but especially not Olivia. She isn’t just a means to an end. We can have the seeds of a real relationship here, and I’m not ready to fuck up that possibility.

At the same time, though . . . the fate of our entire company is still at stake. How do I protect both Olivia and Tate & Cane? How do I convince her?

I toss some cash onto the table and stand, unable to stomach any more. “I’ve got to get to the office. Thanks for the chat.”

“Anytime you need a therapy session, I’m here.” Smiling, Sterling gives me a wave before digging back into his pancakes.

When I arrive at work, I go to the one place I know Olivia won’t find me.

“Hey, Rosita,” I call, clearing off a countertop in the mailroom and sitting down.

“I’ve missed you, mi amor,” she says, wheeling a cart full of packages over. As she approaches, she makes a tsking sound under her breath. Then she stops in front of me and runs her thumb under my eye. “You don’t look well. These dark circles aren’t normally here.”

I shrug. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”