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She was still soaked from our previous entanglement, and the moisture made me that much more hard. Compared to the roughness of the sex in the closet, this was on the opposite side of the spectrum. This was tender...soft.
I'd listened to her request. This wasn't fucking. This was pure, genuine, raw love-making. And I never wanted it to end. Her legs wrapped around my lower back, her feet resting on my ass as she pulled me closer, deeper inside her.
Maybe it was the heat of the moment, maybe it was the recognition that the end was near, but everything was intensified. I could feel the tip of her hard nipples against my chest, I could smell the elements of the coconut shampoo in her hair, I could feel her pussy muscles contract around my cock as she neared culmination.
And together, with our bodies tangled around each other, we reached a mutual place of pleasure, our bodies tingling and reacting, our orgasms timed perfectly.
She kissed me as I came down from my high, and there was a part of me that expected to hear her whisper those three words. I love you. But they never came, and soon, her sighs of sleep echoed in the growing darkness outside the room.
As Olive fell into a deep sleep, my mind drifted.
To possibilities. To plans. To questions and what-ifs.
I was toying with an idea in my head, one that would offer me all the clarity and closure I needed. Morality was out of the window at this point. I'd pretended to kill off Quinn for Olive. The last thing I could do was the finish the job.
Maybe this would be a test. There was always the possibility that Olive would react in a way I didn't expect. But what were the odds of that, if I was being honest with myself?
This was less of a test and more of me closing the door on this part of my life, of giving Olive everything she wanted.
Sex could only express my love for her so far. Maybe this would be my final act of devotion to her. It was a risk, one I was skeptical about pursuing, but I knew I didn't have a choice.
I shimmied out from under her hair, got dressed, and went to work making dinner. Claire joined me in the kitchen, choosing her favorite—spaghetti and meatballs—as our main course. As we cooked together, I tried not to think about what it would be like to raise her in a split household.
What if Olive fought me on custody?
That was a thought I really didn't want to entertain.
As Claire stirred the sauce, I sent a quick text to Jessie:Hey, buddy. Do you think we couldreschedule the press conference for tomorrow? Sorry I was a bit of a dick today. But I'm still on board with this if you are.
Jessie responded immediately:Absolutely, buddy. No worries at all.
I opened my bank account, the new one I'd set up under Quinn's name. With a quick tap, I transferred fifty grand into Olive's bank account.
There was no guilt in any of this. Because I already knew how Olive would handle everything. I was just making it easier for her.
Claire and I just finished cooking when Olive woke up, coming out of the master looking dazed, her hair still knotted from sex. "Smells delicious."
"Mommy!" Claire grinned, jumping off the stool I'd pulled aside so that she could help me cook. "Daddy and I made you pasta."
My heart dropped to the floor. Sudden emotion choked up in my chest. From across the living room, Olive hesitated, the look of shock on her face matching how I felt. Claire must have felt the tension. "Is that okay if I call you that?"
Her question made me want to cry. "Of course it is, baby." I kissed her on the cheek and forced myself to turn away from her.
Olive smiled from the living room, but her expression was unreadable. "I'll be right back. Make me a plate, ok?"
"Yep!" Claire grinned.
I watched Olive as she crossed to the guest room. She'd already moved her bag out of there, so what was she getting?
"You got this, chef?" I asked Claire.
"Uh-huh!"
I waited until Olive disappeared into the guest room, and then I tiptoed over to the door and peered inside. She was in the bathroom, and as I got closer, I peeked around the corner. I could just see the edge of the mirror and the corner of her reflection as she crawled onto the counter, pushed open the vent above the counter, and grabbed something hidden in the ceiling.
It was a small USB drive—the video she'd stolen, I was sure of it. Then she slipped into her back pocket and got off the counter.
I was back in the kitchen before she noticed me. Glancing up at Olive, I twisted on a smile. "Jessie asked if we could reschedule the press conference for tomorrow? He wants to turn it into a bit of a party."
