Sex has been on the horizon from the beginning. We’ve already experimented with making out, and that went pretty great. I won’t even have to swallow my pride—not too much, anyway—since Noah’s bet about seducing me in four days has long since expired.

So, what exactly am I waiting for? What’s the point of a “trial period” that never graduates into the real thing? And when have I ever gotten anywhere in life by hanging back? Sure, I’m hardly a daredevil like Noah, but there’s a difference between reasonable caution and paranoia. If I always play everything so safe, nothing will ever change. I’ll just be stuck in neutral forever. I need to take the plunge. Toss off my big-girl panties and just say screw it for once.

I give myself a decisive nod to cement my resolve. So . . . that’s that. I’m going to start fucking my husband. There, I said it. I’m going to enjoy some marital sex. I’m a mature, responsible woman—I can totally handle this. And I can always call the whole thing off if I try it and I don’t like where it’s going.

Someday, I still want my soul mate and my happily-ever-after romance. But that true love story isn’t going to happen anytime soon. Right here, right now, what I have is Noah. And that’s nothing to sneeze at. He’s one of the hottest men I’ve ever met, and more importantly, he’s good to me. Our friendship is solid; I trust him to show me a fun time and never hurt me.

What’s the worst that can happen? With that thought in mind, I set out for Noah’s office, my heart beating fast and hard.

He’s left his door wide open. When I peek in to see him sitting at his desk, he glances at me over the top of his computer screen.

“You need something?” he asks.

I come inside, closing the door behind me. This is definitely going to be the strangest proposal I’ve ever made at work. Taking a deep breath, I face Noah with as much cool confidence as I can muster.

“So,” I say casually, “I’ve been thinking. Maybe that orgasm wasn’t so bad after all . . .”

Chapter Seven

Noah

Barely an hour after she tore me a new asshole and stormed off, Olivia is standing in front of my desk. And underneath her nervousness is a mischievous glint in her eye.

“No?” I tease her, pretending to be surprised. “I thought you said it was just a little O earlier.”

She shakes her head. There’s a tiny crease between her brows, and I know that whatever she’s about to propose, she’s given it a lot of thought.

I rise to my feet and come around the desk so we’re standing facing each other. I can’t help pushing her buttons a little more. “Excellent, because there’s plenty more where that came from.” I love when she blushes. She looks beautiful when she’s fully relaxed and carefree. This is my favorite version of her.

“That’s good, because I’ve been thinking. Maybe this whole husband arrangement might come in handy,” Olivia says.

“Indeed it can. I have a big dick and I know how to use it. We’ve proven that even you, Snowflake, like orgasms. We have six hours between when we get off work and bedtime . . . that’s more than enough time to make you scream my name.”

“God, you’re crude.” Her cheeks flush even pinker.

Bingo.

“How would you prefer I behave, Olivia? Like your little lapdog from accounting, polite and well-mannered and hanging on your every word? You’ll have to neuter me first.”

She raises her chin. She didn’t think I noticed that shriveled prick sniffing around, but I did.

“Sorry, Snowflake, but I’m a man. A speak-my-mind, fight-for-what-I-believe, bleed-for-my-country, red-meat-eating man. I don’t bow down to anyone. You want to fuck around and blow off some steam? Fine. It’ll be fun. But I’m not handing my balls over to you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Just don’t talk and we’ll be fine.”

I chuckle. It’s so fun to see her flustered.

“No, seriously, don’t speak.”

Nodding, I make a show of tightening my lips and zipping them shut.

Even I’m smart enough to know when to stay quiet. And when sex with Olivia is on the line, I’m more than willing to play along. All this teasing banter is melting my little snowflake, slowly but surely . . . just according to plan.

• • •

“What is all of this? I’m pretty much a sure bet. You understand that, right?” Olivia’s tone is amused, maybe even a little chastising. But there’s a huge smile on her face.

I asked her on an official date tonight. I’ve filled our penthouse with pale pink peonies from floor to ceiling—every counter and table topped with a crystal vase or a small water bowl of fragrant blossoms. I’ve even drawn her a bath with petals floating on the warm water.

“We’re not really dating. You didn’t have to do this,” she says, her tone teasing. “It’s just business. And sex. That’s it.”

I won’t admit it, but I’m a little hurt. If I did all this for any other woman, she’d be impressed and dazzled. But winning over Olivia is a challenge unlike any other.

“Go get ready. We have a seven-thirty reservation.” I give her ass a playful swat.

“Yes, sir,” she murmurs, sauntering past me.

Damn . . . I’m sure she only meant that sarcastically, but I like hearing those words more than I ever imagined.

Olivia heads into the master bath, and I hear her soft groan when she sinks into the water.