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Olivia’s movements meet my punishing rhythm, our moans becoming louder as we near our climax. I stare down at her jiggling ass and I give it a firm slap. She lets out a cry and follows it up with a burst of moans. She’s driving me crazy with the sounds she’s making.
We climax at the same time. She places her hand over mine and squeezes. I pull my dick out and pull her back to the bed with me. I know it’s wistful thinking but she feels like my woman now. I’ve missed this. Having someone to call my own. The thinking side of my brain roars awake and lists all the reasons why I can’t let myself go there.
I barely know Olivia.
She’s too young for me. Ten years is a huge age difference.
She’s an employee.
Olivia lets out a sigh and rests her head on my chest. All my misgivings disappear when her scent surrounds me and she drapes a leg over my thighs. There will be time enough to think about why I shouldn’t. Right now, I want to soak in this moment of having her soft body draped over mine.
She falls asleep fast. Within minutes, her breathing grows even and her body slackens against mine. I smooth back her hair and look at her face. She really is lovely. A gem.
Old habits die hard. It’s Saturday and I don’t really need to be at the clinic but I’ve done it for years. I gently shift Olivia away and quietly slip out of bed. If I hurry up, I can be back before she leaves. I head to the shower and laugh at myself. My dick is still hard. Too bad I can’t sleep in and surprise her when she wakes up with my dick inside her. Duty beckons. I shower and whistle quietly. The last time I whistled in the bathroom was years ago. I feel so fucking happy and invincible. There’s nothing like having sex with a young, gorgeous woman to make you feel like you own the world.
When I leave my apartment a few minutes later, I leave her a note stuck on the fridge door.
Chapter 10: Olivia
I wake up to find myself alone in Jace’s massive bed but his scent still lingers. I caress the spot where he lay before he woke up, and smile. In the next minute, reality slams into me and I roll around and bury my head in the sheets. Shit. Shit. Shit. I didn’t think this through. I allowed my body to rule my head.
Jace is probably full of regrets as well. We shouldn’t have slept together. I should have known better. He’ll hate me at the end of three months when he finds out that I’m a phony. My chest aches at the thought of betraying him. I feel like a kidnapper who has fallen in lust with his captive.
I listen for him but the apartment is quiet. What if he regrets this and I have to live with his rejection for the next two and something months? I dread his reaction but I can’t hide away in bed forever. I push off the duvet and swing my legs to the floor. I pause to listen. Nothing. I pad to the bathroom and prolong the moment when we’ll come face to face while taking a shower. The water is invigorating and it soothes my sore parts.
Despite my regrets, I smile as the memory of this morning comes to mind. It was explosive. The best sex I’ve ever had, hands down. Last evening was pretty great also. We talked like friends. Close friends. Jace is sensitive but he doesn’t dwell on sad or pitying emotions. It’s refreshing. I’ve endured sympathy most of my life and I hate it.
Yeah, so I grew up in foster care more than in my own home. So my mother was a drug addict. Marcus and I have turned out pretty well and that’s cause for celebration, not a pity party. Jace instinctively gets that. He really is perfect. If only…
Stop that. It’s an exercise in futility wishing for things that will never happen. It was just sex and it was fucking awesome. A song bursts out of me as I stand under the hot water and let it rinse away the soap. I refuse to dwell on the past or the future. This is the present and I’m happy. When I’m done, I towel myself dry and return to Jace’s bedroom to dress.
I tidy up the bed and then go in search of him. He’s not in the living room and neither is he in the kitchen but I spot the note stuck on his fridge. I move closer and read it.
Hey gorgeous, make yourself at home. There’s coffee brewing. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.
Pleasure warms my body. I’m relieved that he doesn’t sound like he regrets our night together. One part of me is also relieved that he’s gone and the other is disappointed. I pour myself a cup of coffee from his fancy coffee maker and relieve the night while I drink it.
I read the note again and smile. I finish my coffee and after rinsing the mug, I go in search of my phone. It’s in my purse and I plop onto the bed and turn it on. There are tons of messages. One from Chris asking me if I’m still alive. I text him back, assuring him that I’m fine and I had a great night. There’s also one from Amelia that gets my pulse racing.
She wants to meet me at nine. It’s eight. Just enough time to get home for a change of clothes. I need to get a move on if I’m to reach the magazine on time. Amelia hates lateness and she has been known to cancel a meeting when someone was late. After getting my purse, I give the living room one last glance, my gaze lingering on the couch, and then I shut the door behind me.
On the way to my apartment, guilt worms itself into my heart, and by the time I get there, I almost hate myself. Jace is a good person. I should have kept our relationship professional so that on the day he finds out who I am, he’s not hurt.
I pick out a casual outfit and a beanie that gives me a completely different look, then I leave and head to the magazine. I don’t park in my usual space in front of the building, but behind. I lock the car and instead of going straight in, I skulk around the building before darting in, worried that someone who knows me from the clinic might see me. An almost baseless worry but I can’t help it. The stakes feel higher now.
There are several people in the open office and I exchange pleasantries with them as I make my way to Amelia’s office down the hallway. I knock on her door. She invites me in.
“Hello stranger,” she says. “Have a seat.”
A nervous sweat breaks out under my arm pits. I’m glad I chose a blue top rather than a white one. “Thanks.” Does she expect me to have something already?
She rests her hands on the table and leans forward. Her face becomes animated the way it does when she’s excited about something. I’ve never been the recipient of her excitement. “So I have this idea of writing a series of articles, gently introducing the reader to how things work at The Anderson Clinic.”
I nod to indicate that she should go on.
“Initially, we were to do one big investigative piece but I figured why not build on it. Start small so that by the time we drop the bombshells, we’ll have in essence created the world of The Anderson Clinic.”
“What kind of pieces?”
