Chapter 29

Olivia

I carefully lifted my head to check if he was awake. His eyes remained closed, and his breathing was deep and even. Thank God.

But then I felt a draft and glanced down. My t-shirt had ridden up during the night, bunched around my waist, leaving my breasts completely exposed against his chest. My nipples had hardened to tight peaks, betraying my body's reaction.

Had he seen? Had he woken during the night to find me sprawled across him, tits out, like some desperate groupie?

I slowly began to extricate myself, carefully lifting my leg off his. As I shifted, his cock twitched against my thigh, and I bit my lip to suppress a gasp.

"Jesus, it's huge," I thought, immediately hating myself for the observation.

I managed to roll away, quickly tugging down the t-shirt. I turned my back to him, feigning sleep, my heart hammering so loudly I was sure it would wake him.

The mattress shifted as Alexander stirred. I kept my breathing deep and regular, praying he'd believe I was still asleep.

I felt him pause, probably looking at me before he carefully got out of bed. His footsteps padded across the room, followed by the soft click of the bathroom door.

Once alone, I let out the breath I'd been holding and rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling.

"Shit, shit, shit," I muttered, covering my face with my hands. "Way to go, Olivia. Cuddle up to your fake fiancé with your tits out. Real professional."

I listened to the shower running, imagining the water cascading down Alexander's muscular body, over his abs, lower to his impressive—

"Stop it," I hissed at myself. "This is business. Not a p**n script."

I sat up, smoothing my hair and trying to look casual. Should I pretend to be just waking up when he returned? Or admit I'd been awake? Would he mention finding me wrapped around him like a horny octopus?

The bathroom door opened before I could decide, releasing a cloud of steam. Alexander stepped out with nothing but a white towel slung low around his hips. Water droplets clung to his broad shoulders, trailing down the defined planes of his chest.

Holy. Shit.

I'd felt his body beneath mine this morning, but seeing it was another experience entirely. His torso was tapered to a narrow waist, and his abs were clearly defined like something carved from marble. A thin line of hair started below his navel and disappeared beneath the towel, drawing my eyes downward.

The towel did little to hide the impressive bulge beneath. Even semi-hard, his cock created an unmistakable tent in the fabric.

I snapped my eyes back up, but not before he caught me looking.

"I thought you were still asleep," he said, running a hand through his damp hair. The movement made his bicep flex, and I swallowed hard.

"Just woke up," I lied, my voice embarrassingly husky. "Did you, um, sleep well?"

His lips quirked into a knowing smile. "Very well. You're quite the cuddler."

My face burned. So he had noticed. "Sorry about that. I don't usually—"

"Don't apologize." His eyes darkened. "I enjoyed it."

Before I could respond, he turned and walked to his closet, the muscles in his back rippling with each step. The towel hung dangerously low, giving me a perfect view of his ass.

I flopped back onto the pillows, covering my face with my hands. This was torture. Pure, unadulterated torture.

Alexander emerged from the closet wearing a fitted black t-shirt and gray shorts. Without a word, he left the bedroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

I stared at the closed door, still feeling the phantom heat of Alexander's body against mine. The image of him in that towel burned into my brain, all those defined muscles, the droplets of water sliding down his chest, the obscene bulge between his legs.

"Get it together," I muttered, falling back against the pillows.

My nipples still tingled from being pressed against his chest. I ran my hands over my face, groaning into my palms. This was a business arrangement, not some romance novel. I needed to stop acting like a hormonal teenager and start behaving like the professional I was.

A shower. That's what I needed. Cold water to wash away these inappropriate thoughts about my future fake husband.

I threw back the covers and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Just as my feet touched the plush carpet, the door swung open. Alexander strode in carrying two steaming mugs, catching me in mid-motion.

"Shit!" I yelped, diving back under the covers. The t-shirt had ridden up again, nearly exposing everything.

"Coffee?" he asked, his lips twitching with amusement.

I clutched the sheet to my chest. "You could knock."

"In my own bedroom?" He raised an eyebrow, extending one of the mugs toward me.

"It's called common courtesy," I grumbled but accepted the coffee. Our fingers brushed during the exchange, sending an electric current up my arm.

Alexander shrugged, settling on the edge of the bed with his own mug. "I'm used to it."

I took a cautious sip, the rich coffee warming me from the inside. "Used to what exactly?"

And then it hit me. The casual way he handed me coffee, the comfortable routine of it all. This was his morning-after move. How many women had received this same treatment? Waking up in Alexander Carter's bed to coffee served by the man himself, probably after a night of...

"Oh my god," I blurted. "This is your routine, isn't it? Coffee in bed for your conquests?"

"Most women who stay here are already naked and satisfied by this point. They don't typically complain about courtesy."

I nearly choked on my coffee. "Excuse me?"

"You asked." He took a long sip, eyes never leaving mine. "You're the first woman who's slept in this bed without having sex with me first."

The casual way he said it made my cheeks burn. "Congratulations on your restraint."

"It wasn't easy," he said, his gaze dropping to where the sheet covered my legs. "Especially with you wrapped around me this morning."

I pulled the sheet higher. "How often do you bring women here?"