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"Exposed?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"My robe opened. I’m sure he got a good eyeful," I explained, feeling a flush of humiliation creep up my neck.
Oliver's expression hardened slightly. "If he did, he’ll be the last man to see you naked."
"That’s not funny. It’s embarrassing," I said, wishing I could forget the whole ordeal.
“That should be the least of your worries," he said, trying to downplay the incident.
I turned to my side, curling up and placing my head on Oliver’s chest. He wrapped his arms around me, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along my spine. A minute later, he began to sing softly.
"You sing?" I asked, surprised.
"Sometimes," he admitted with a small smile.
"You have a nice voice," I told him, genuinely impressed.
"Thank you. Not too many people know I can sing."
"Do your friends?" I asked, curious about this hidden talent.
"Of course. We used to go to karaoke bars as a joke when we were younger," he said, chuckling at the memory.
"I guess the joke was on them," I teased.
"They’re all horrible. Dax is tone-deaf and Wilmer always tries to sing songs that his voice isn’t suited for," he said, shaking his head.
"Sing some more," I requested, closing my eyes to better absorb the richness of his voice as he sang a love ballad. His voice was smooth and rich, a balm to my frazzled nerves.
We stayed in the tub until the water started to cool. Oliver slipped out first, quickly wiping away the leftover bubbles and excess water. He lifted me out and wrapped me in his robe, the warmth and scent of him enveloping me.
It was well after 3 p.m. by the time we emerged from the bathroom, and my stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since the night before. The container of crab salad that was almost a constant in Oliver’s refrigerator was calling my name. I pulled on a pair of socks and padded down the hall to the kitchen, leaving Oliver as he got dressed.
I opened the refrigerator, located the crab salad, grabbed a fork, and struggled with the top. Oliver came to my rescue, popping it off with ease so I could dig into the delicious seafood.
"I guess the day kind of got away from us," he remarked, watching me with amusement.
"I only woke up a few hours ago—abruptly, might I add," I said, reminding him of the chaotic morning.
Oliver sheepishly grinned. "I can’t apologize enough."
"Don’t sweat it, babe," I said with a grin.
He returned my smile and busied himself making a thick roast beef sandwich on rye bread, then we headed to the living room to watch television. It was just another lazy Saturday, aside from the earlier drama.
I started the work week with an ace bandage wrapped around my wrist. It had stiffened up when I went to sleep on Saturday evening, which hampered our lovemaking. Oliver insisted we pass for the night and did the same on Sunday, making me grouchy. Sex with him was like a drug to me—the more we had it, the more I craved it.
Monday brought a cascade of problems. First, there was an issue with the permits for the project in Los Angeles with the Ryders. If they were delayed, money would be wasted. Oliver placed a few calls and managed to get them pulled, keeping the project on schedule.
Next, a shipment of parts from an overseas factory was held at customs. These parts were crucial for completing machinery at one of his plants. Again, a phone call from Oliver seemed to smooth things over. His influence extended far and wide and watching him navigate these challenges was a turn-on.
By late afternoon, my core was swollen and wanting. My clit ached and throbbed. I tried to think of other things, but two days without sex and watching Oliver conduct business was just too much to bear. I felt like a bitch in heat, and I wanted him. I had been sitting in my office, reading through some reports, when I decided I couldn’t take it any longer.
I went to Oliver’s office, finding him pacing with his earpiece attached as he conducted a conference call. I quietly closed the door and began to disrobe. He glanced up at me, frowned, but kept talking as if nothing unusual was happening.
I watched his smooth hands move through the air as he spoke, his sapphire eyes locked onto me as I removed my ivory blouse, then my black skirt. I was down to my powder blue bra and thong when he concluded his call.
He ripped out the earpiece, throwing it onto the desk. It skidded underneath some papers. “What are you doing?” he demanded, his voice low and strained.
