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Olivia moans, her whole body arching up against mine. I love when she’s like this. Wanton and eager for me. I bury my teeth in her, sucking a beautiful, red bruise into the soft, pale tenderness of her collarbone.
“You’re mine,” I snarl to her. “You’re always gonna be mine. Olivia… don’t ever try to run again.”
I don’t know where it comes from, the compulsion to say such a silly thing. She’s not going anywhere—I know that. But in the moment, holding her, knowing what my child looks like inside of her…
She looks up at me with those doe eyes of hers. I’ve put her through the wringer. The last few weeks have been hard. I have my reasons for what I did. But knowing that she’s still here after all of that… I don’t even want to think about her leaving ever again.
“I won’t, Reese.”
“I—”
“Ahem!”
I startle at the intrusion, but I keep Olivia in my arms and shield her with my body as I look over my shoulder. An older woman in pearls and furs looks at the two of us. Her nose is turned up and she smells like powdery perfume.
I can’t help but laugh.
“The elevator isn’t for fornication!” she snaps at us, shoving her way in. “Get out!”
I laugh again and, this time, Olivia joins me. I peel her from the wall and lead her by the hand into the hallway. The woman scoffs, jabbing a bony finger into the Lobby button as if it’ll make the doors close any faster on mine and Olivia’s tomfoolery.
“She looked like she was going to kill us!” Olivia hisses as we walk away.
“Let her try. Hell, she might even learn a thing or two if she takes good notes.”
She rolls her eyes. “Reese, you’re such a smartass.”
“Guilty as charged, Ms. Carter.”
She rolls her eyes once more just in case I missed it the first time, then pinches me in the side and grins wickedly. “I sentence you to take into the apartment and fuck me.”
I return her mischievous smile. “Lock me up and throw the key.”
I scoop her up in my arms as she shrieks and giggles and I race with her to the penthouse. Samson stands outside, having had one of his people tail Olivia and me to the doctor’s appointment discreetly. He sees us coming and, like the consummate pro that he is, doesn’t so much as blink an eye as he opens the door to let me come running in without breaking stride. I swear I even catch a glimpse of the tiniest smile on his face before he shuts the door behind us and resumes his guard.
As soon as we’re alone, I set her down and attack her. Our Blizzards clatter to the floor, sending who-the-fuck-knows how much ice cream spraying all over the place. I don’t pay attention to it and frankly, I don’t care.
All I need is my hands on Olivia’s body. My cock pressed into her. I want nothing more than to ravage her until all she remembers is how we made that little boy of ours.
My mouth descends on hers once more. There’s a hungry fire between the two of us that burns fierce and bright in the pit of my stomach. But as my hands go to her clothes, ready to tear them off, Olivia suddenly shoves me away.
“What’s—”
She darts away from me and around the corner. I’m perplexed until I hear the toilet lid snap up and retching follow right after.
Fuck.
I push my hands through my hair and take a deep breath to calm the sheer horny craze running through my veins. Then I go to the bathroom.
Olivia’s left the door open, so I can see her hunched over the toilet as I approach. If her head was any farther in, she’d be somewhere in the middle of a Dallas water treatment plant by now. I crouch down beside her and gather her hair up into a ponytail so it’s out of her face.
“I—fuck—I’m s-sorry,” she stutters between retches.
“You don’t have to apologize,” I tell her. “It’s okay. Let it out.”
I want to fuck. God knows I do. But there is a slight damper on the mood when vomit is involved and I’m pretty sure most women don’t want to be came onto when they’re hurling up their guts.
Olivia lets out what sounds like a sob before another round of retching.
