“Aren’t you going to wash your hands?” I snap at him. One of them was just buried in my you-know-what, after all.

With a wicked grin, he lifts that hand to his nose and makes a show of smelling his fingers, inhaling my scent, and my face flares bright red.

“No way,” he says simply.

I tear my hungry eyes away and huff, “Whatever. Let’s just get back to the table and hope we haven’t already ruined this deal.”

“Uh, sweetheart . . .”

I glance back at him. “What?”

He releases a deep breath slowly through his nose. “If I go back out there like this, I’ll be arrested for indecency.”

I follow his gaze, which has dropped to the front of his slacks.

Holy hell. It looks like he’s smuggling a pineapple in his underwear.

“Get that thing under control.”

He squeezes his eyes closed and takes another deep breath. When his eyes open again, he looks slightly more composed. “Let’s roll.”

As we leave the bathroom, I try to pull myself together. With Estelle in my sights again, I get my head back in work mode.

Sure, Noah may be unfairly attractive—and now I know he’s good with his hands too, on top of being a skilled kisser—but I still need to stay frosty here. He’s an arrogant, cocky, immature playboy who doesn’t take business seriously enough.

So, keep your head in the game, Olivia, I remind myself.

But the unsatisfied ache between my thighs is almost too much to bear. This dinner will definitely qualify as the longest evening of my life.

Chapter Thirteen

Noah

“Well, that went well,” I say as I maneuver my sleek black Tesla out of the parking garage. I give the gas pedal a modest tap and we fly off down the street.

I feel ten feet tall, as smug as can be, and I don’t give a shit right now. Not even the way my cock is aching like a motherfucker can ruin my mood.

Olivia shoots me a questioning glare, and I know she’s wondering what I’m referring to—the business meeting with the new client that we’ll probably land, or my favorite part, almost getting her off in the bathroom. My body is still primed and ready to deliver.

“I can’t believe you didn’t wash your hands,” she snaps.

“I may never wash this hand again.” I smile and make a lewd gesture with my fingers.

She turns away from me with a huff and looks out her window in silence the rest of the way home.

When we arrive, the penthouse is dark and quiet and my hormones are still raging. Olivia sets her purse and cell phone down on the entry table, then turns, putting her back toward me.

“Will you unzip me?”

I drag her zipper down her back, letting my fingers graze her skin, appreciating the twin dimples in the small of her back and the very top of her lacy thong.

Torture. This is pure torture.

Taking a chance, I lean forward and place a soft kiss against the back of her neck. “We could finish what we started at the restaurant.”

Her breathing has grown shallow and I can practically smell her arousal. I know her panties are still soaked. The idea of touching her again has me nearly overcome with desire.

“It’s probably not a good idea. We should keep this strictly professional from now on. We need to focus on the business, don’t you think?”

But she sounds the slightest bit unsure, and that’s all I need. It tells me that it’s only a matter of time until I get what I want. And what I want is her tight cunt wrapped around my cock, where I can pound away for hours. Days, even.

“You were so close back there. I could feel your pussy gripping my fingers, that swollen little clit pulsing in time with every heartbeat. You were about to come,” I whisper.

The heat of my breath sends a rash of goose bumps racing down the back of her neck. I know a woman’s body well, how to read all the signs and signals, and everything about Olivia is blaring that she needs to be fucked. Stripped down, laid on the bed, and worshiped like the goddess she is.

“Noah . . .” Her voice is almost a groan, and my cock hardens instantly.

“What do you do for fun, Snowflake? Everything can’t be about work. Sometimes blowing off some steam is a good thing.”

“For everything there is a season.” She straightens her posture. “And this is our season to buckle down and focus on business, not play grab-ass games. I’m sure that’s a foreign concept to you, but—”

“Believe me, I’m dead serious about Tate & Cane. But business is for the workday. After hours is for playtime. And in case you failed to notice . . .” I trail one fingertip down her spine, lingering at the waistband to her panties. “It’s dark outside. And we’re two consenting adults.”

“Two? Try counting again.”

The ice princess takes a step away from me and heads toward the bedroom, where I drink in one last glimpse of her bared back and hips before she shuts the door. I can just imagine her letting the dress slip down her long legs, the fabric pooling around her still-heeled feet, her firm ass covered only with a scrap of lace . . .

God. Fucking. Damn it.

I rake my fingers through my hair and blow out a frustrated sigh. For a second, I don’t know if I’m frustrated because I’m horny and insanely attracted to her, or because she’s making it impossible to win our bet.

No. Fuck that. It’s just because I want her. I want to take her in my arms and understand that we could really have something here. She’s just so damn stubborn. And her secret dream of a romantic wedding—I may not be her first pick, but I want to at least meet her halfway, as more than friends. I’ll just have to find a way to pull this off and keep everyone happy.