Livia’s eyes narrow immediately. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Look at me like that. This isn't funny.”
I tilt my head slightly. “I think it’s interesting that you felt the need to specify mouth-related limitations with such vim.”
Her cheeks deepen in color. “Because apparently you negotiate like a hostile takeover attorney.”
“And you negotiate like someone already imagining scenarios where kissing me becomes unavoidable.”
She opens her mouth, then closes it again.
For the first time since she walked into my office, I genuinely enjoy myself.
Livia exhales sharply and points a finger at my chest. “This is exactly what I mean. You're twisting my words around.”
“I understood the conversation perfectly.” My gaze drifts deliberately to her mouth before returning to her eyes. “No touching unless necessary. Separate rooms. Minimal affection. Kissing reserved for emergencies only.”
“That’s not what I said.”
My brow quirks up. “No?”
She makes a frustrated sound under her breath and turns away from me, pacing toward the rain-streaked windows. “This is a mistake,” she mutters.
“Probably.”
Her head snaps around at the easy agreement.
I fold my arms loosely across my chest. “But it’s still the most effective solution.”
The storm clouds outside darken the office in muted silver light. For a moment neither of us speaks.
Then quietly, without looking directly at me, she says, “Nico can’t get attached to this.”
I hold her gaze without flinching. “Agreed.” I move behind my desk to put solid wood between us. “I’ll have the contract drawn up this afternoon.”
She exits without another word, the door closing with a decisive click that echoes in the sudden silence of my office. I remain standing, hands braced on the desk, breathing through the raw need still pulsing through my veins.
My cock strains painfully against my zipper. The image of her parted lips refuses to fade. I can still smell her coconut and citrus scent clinging to the air.
The rest of the day passes in a controlled blur of meetings and preparations for the retreat. I sign documents, review strategies, and answer questions about the Aurelius partnership with my usual precision.
No one notices the undercurrent of frustration burning beneath my skin. By the time I reach my penthouse overlooking Central Park, night has fallen and the rain has intensified.
I loosen my tie the moment the elevator doors open into the apartment. The space feels too large, too empty.
I pour a glass of whiskey and stand at the windows, watching the city lights blur through the downpour.
Livia’s face keeps appearing in my mind. The hitch in her voice. The way her body had swayed toward mine in the office. The pulse beating wildly in her throat.
I set the glass down untouched and head for the shower.
Cold water hits my shoulders like needles. I stand under the icy stream, eyes closed, willing my body to calm. It does not. My cock remains rock hard, throbbing with unmet demand.
Water cascades down my chest, over the ridges of my abdomen, and lower. I brace one forearm against the marble wall and grip myself with the other hand.
The first stroke pulls a harsh breath from my throat. I picture Livia in that emerald dress from the dinner, the fabric clinging to her full breasts, the dip of her waist, the curve of her ass.
