Page 48 of Wicked God
Back at my penthouse, I roll up the sleeves of my crisp white shirt and set to work in the kitchen. The recipe I’ve pulled up on my tablet looks deceptively simple, but I’m determined to get it right. The sizzle of garlic in olive oil fills the air as I chop herbs with more concentration than I’ve given most business deals.
“Come on, Alex,” I mutter to myself, carefully measuring out spices. “You can broker million-dollar contracts. Surely you can manage a pasta dish.”
As the sauce simmers, releasing a delectable scent, I set the table. Instead of using my fancy china reserved for family occasions, I opt for a simpler but elegant set that Olivia once admired. Peonies, her favorite, sit in a vase as the centerpiece.
My fingers hesitate over the stereo controls before settling on a soft jazz playlist. The mellow notes of a saxophone fill the room, adding to the intimate atmosphere I’m trying to create.
Standing back, I survey my handiwork. The flickering candlelight casts a warm glow over the table, and the aroma of herbs and garlic permeates the air. It’s perfect, or at least, I hope it is. Perfect for Olivia.
A realization washes over me, as powerful as it is unexpected. I want this. Not just tonight, but every night. I want Olivia here, in my home, in my life. The thought of our arrangement ending, of her walking away when this is all over, is unbearable.
But instead of feeling panicked, I feel a sense of calm certainty. Olivia Carter has become more than just a convenient solution to my family’s expectations. She could become my everything.
As I turn back to the stove to give the sauce a final stir, I make a silent promise to myself. I’ll make her see that what we have isreal, that it’s worth fighting for. Even if it means going against everything I’ve been taught about duty and family expectations.
Because Olivia? She’s worth it all.
The sound of the front door opening startles me out of my thoughts. I twist to turn off the stove as Olivia appears in the doorway, surprise in her eyes.
“Alex,” she breathes, her voice a mix of surprise and something else I can’t quite place. “What is all this?”
“I wanted to surprise you,” I say. “I remember how much you enjoyed the last meal I cooked for you, so I thought...”
Before I can finish, Olivia crosses the room in quick strides. Her hands cup my face before her lips crash onto mine in an urgent and passionate kiss. I’m caught off guard by the intensity, but I respond instantly, my arms wrapping around her waist to pull her closer.
When we break apart, Olivia’s cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright. “No one has ever put so much care and effort into something for me,” she murmurs, her fingers tracing my jawline.
I catch her hand and press a tender kiss to her palm. “Then you’ve been with the wrong men, Olivia,” I tell her, my voice low and earnest. “Because you’re worth everything. This,” I gesture around us, “is the least of what you deserve.”
I see a hint of vulnerability in her eyes, a glimpse of the walls she’s built up over time. But before I can dwell on it, she’s kissing me again, this time deeper and more urgent. It feels like a floodgate has opened between us, all the unspoken feelings rushing to the surface.
Without breaking the kiss, I lift her onto the kitchen counter, pushing aside ingredients with one arm. Olivia’s hands tangle in my hair as our bodies press together. The heat between us is intoxicating and makes it hard for me to focus.
“Olivia,” I breathe against her lips, my hands roaming her back. “God, you’re incredible.”
She responds by wrapping her legs around my waist, effectively trapping me against her. Not that I’m complaining. As our kisses grow more heated, a small voice in the back of my mind reminds me of the dinner waiting to be served, of the carefully laid plans I had for the evening.
But with Olivia in my arms, her soft sighs filling my ears, I can’t bring myself to care about anything else. The food can wait. This moment, right here, is all that matters.
“God, you have no idea what you do to me.”
She pulls back, her eyes dark with desire. “Show me.”
My hands glide up her legs, pushing her skirt up to her waist. I trail kisses along her jawline, down her neck, relishing the soft moans escaping from her lips. When I reach that sensitive spot below her ear, she shivers.
“You missed me,” I murmur, my fingers tracing over the fabric of her panties. The dampness confirms my words. “Didn’t you?”
Her breath hitches. “Yes.”
I guide her legs over my shoulders, never breaking eye contact. “I missed you, too,” I confess, before lowering my head.
My lips caress her inner thighs, leaving a trail of soft, teasing kisses that make her squirm with anticipation.
“Tell me what you want from me, Olivia.”
She shifts against the counter, her fingers clutching its edge. “You. I want you.”
My lips continue their journey down her thigh, tasting her through the fabric. Olivia gasps, arching into my touch as a shiver runs through her body.
