CHAPTER 2

"Let me help you with this," she coos, climbing on top of me, positioning me between her legs right at her dripping wet entrance.

She hovers over me, a fist around my body, waiting for me to say something. To say no so she can leave or to say yes so she can sink down onto me, envelope me in her warm, wet, and tight core.

Fuck it-she's ready, I'm ready, we're here, we're naked, so we may as well enjoy ourselves. We might as well go another round. It's early enough, and I'll be able to sneak back into my penthouse without anyone ever knowing once we are done.

I growl and flip us so she's under me. Her long blonde hair fans out behind her, standing out against the green of the pillowcase, and those full pink lips of hers smile as she wraps her legs around my waist, opening herself up to me.

“I didn’t know you were such a sex kitten, Imogen.”

She gives a sharp laugh, but it’s cut off by my body sliding home, making her groan and arch her back, lifting those pretty little nipples into the air.

"Oh, that feels good," she sighs, her hands sliding up my chest. "Fuck me hard, Ethan."

I just smile and plunge into her again, forcing another cry out of her, and I groan too. She's so tight and wet, taking every thrust of my pelvis into her like a champ, begging me for more. Begging it to be harder.

Soon, the sounds of our moans and our bodies meeting fill the room. Her hands roam my body, fingertips lingering on my muscled abdomen. The light touches contrast with the wild bucking of her hips and the loud moans and cries she gives as I move within her. It's hot as hell, the way she's soft yet wild.

I grip her thighs, spread her wide, and take advantage of her dancer's flexibility. I pound into her, her small breasts bouncing everywhere as she grips the sheets, her moans echoing and filling the room. My thumb finds her clitoris, and I flick it once, twice.

“Oh, fuck yes!” she says. “Don’t stop!”

I am relentless after that, slamming into her and strumming her clitoris until we both tumble over the edge to our orgasms. She goes first, crying out and pulsating around me, driving me over my own cliff of pleasure.

I pull out of her fast, my release landing on her thighs. I stay there, panting, my thumb playing with her, watching her as she twitches through the aftershocks of her release.

Once I know she's finished, I jump up and go into the en-suite bathroom and grab her a washcloth to clean herself with.

“Thanks for that,” she says, as we both dress.

“For what?” I ask as I pull on my T-shirt from last night.

“A good fuck,” she says, laughing. “It’s been way too long since I’ve had one.”

I laugh. "You're welcome."

"What brand are these mattresses?" she asks, smoothing her black wrap sweater over her breasts.

“Um, I don’t know.” I shrug, tugging on my jeans. “I think all the guest rooms have the same type. They were replaced after Adrian and Elena took over the lease.”

"Well, it did wonders for my back," she says, combing her hair with her fingers.

“Hmm,” I reply as my ears pick up footsteps in the hall.

I hold my breath, freeze, and listen to the cadence of the steps to hopefully identify them, while I pray that whoever it is will not hear us and that Imogen will stop talking. But no, she continues to ramble on and on about I don't know what, because I am no longer listening to her. My focus is on the body in the hall, the one taking their sweet ass time to move from one end to the other. “Alright, well, I will see you later. The bridesmaids are supposed to meet at Maya’s place for our dress fitting, and I’m technically running late; but since I’m here already, I guess that means I’m not that late.

I’ll grab my ‘just in case’ bag out of my car and be on my way.” I am so focused on that body in the hall, I don't realize till it's too late. Imogen rests her hand on the doorknob, and I launch myself toward her, my heart in my throat, my stomach in my feet, but time's run out and there is no escape for me now.

The door opens, and Oliver Grant leans against the far wall, a steaming mug of coffee in his hands and a triumphant, self-satisfied smile curving his lips upward.

Ethan Reyes-Thorne

“GOOD MORNING, LYDIA,” Oliver says, but his gray eyes look right at Ethan.

And there was a decided emphasis on the word “morning.”

“Morning!” Lydia says, chipper as fuck.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks this time emphasizing the word "sleep."

Ethan glares at him with his jaw clenched. This motherfucker. Goading him. Poking at him. Gloating.

“Fantastic, actually.” Lydia smiles, completely unaware of the staredown going on between Oliver and Ethan. “Oh! Do you know what brand of mattresses these are?” She jerks her thumb over her shoulder at the bed. “I asked Ethan, but he’s clueless.”

“I do not,” Oliver says sipping his coffee.

“Oh, that’s fine.” She waves him off and slings her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll ask Elena. See you later!

She does a little prance and then walks away, leaving Ethan to face his worst nightmare alone.

"Sleepover, huh?" Oliver asks, taking another sip of his coffee.

Ethan's fists clench to stop himself from smacking that steaming hot mug of coffee into his stupid, smug face. Oliver watches him over the rim, his eyes flicking to the muscle twitching in Ethan's jaw and the vein pulsing in his forehead.

Ethan doesn't give him the satisfaction of a response, though. He walks away instead, down the hall to the door of the private corporate gym in the Zaku Estate.

"Where are you going?" Oliver asks, his footsteps an echo of Ethan's as he follows him.

“Gym. I want to get a workout in before we lead the executive planning session later.”

“I'll join you,” he says, downing the rest of his coffee and dropping the mug off in the kitchen on their way through the residence.

Ethan grits his teeth, holding in a groan. That's the last thing he wants. The last thing he needs. Especially when Oliver is the reason Ethan needs to work out some aggression in the first place. Him and his stupid bets.

He had been hoping to imagine Oliver's face as the punching bag, but he supposes Oliver's actual face is a much better alternative. If he is there, however, that means hearing his taunts for most of the morning. Or he might choose to go the silent route, baiting Ethan to bring it up on his own.