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“Sounds like a personal problem.”
Oliver moved to my side and stared down at me. I was irritated with his lack of response to my problem which he suffered from too. When I reached for him, he grabbed my hand.
“It’s less than forty hours from now. As soon as we’re home, I’ll satisfy you. Be patient.”
“You be patient.”
Sighing, I moved my hand to my cleft and began rubbing my clit; if he wouldn’t get me off, I decided, I would have to torture him. I felt Oliver’s stare on my face as I closed my eyes and let out a little moan, putting on a show of my arousal. My moans picked up, hand growing faster, until I was right on the edge—until Oliver placed his hand over mine, stopping me abruptly.
My eyes flew open. “What are you doing? I’m so close.”
“You’ll regret it. Take a cold shower.”
“I don’t want a cold shower. I want you to fuck me.”
“No. Go back to your room. One more night. We have the day off today and the rehearsal dinner tonight. You’ll be so busy and tired you won’t think about sex until after our reception.”
“Says you,” I groaned.
He prodded me with his hand. “Come on. Go back to your room unless you want me to carry you there and tuck you in.”
“That sounds lovely.”
He got off the bed, his still hard penis bobbing against his belly, and he scooped me up in his arms. In our bedroom, he shooed Trouble over so he could place me down.
“You’re really doing this?” I asked, my eyes widening.
“Yes. Now go back to sleep.”
I grumbled as I pulled the sheet over me and watched his silhouette walk through our bedroom door. The throb was still there but I ignored it as I faded back to sleep.
The lack of sleep and sexual frustration had turned me into a seething ball of irritation. I took it out on the treadmill, cranking it up to seven and running like a woman possessed.
Oliver watched from the stepper, an infuriatingly amused smile playing on his lips. "Enjoying yourself?" he called out, barely winded.
I shot him a glare that would have withered a lesser man. If not for the other residents in the gym, I'd have given him a far less subtle response involving my middle finger.
Sweat poured off my skin, soaking through my clothes as I pushed myself harder. By the time I finally stepped off, I'd run six grueling miles. Even after a cool-down, my breath came in ragged gasps.
I snatched a thick white towel from the shelf, wiping away the rivulets of sweat before gulping down the last of my water. Oliver was just finishing his own cool-down as I approached, my legs still trembling from exertion.
"Feeling better?" he whispered, leaning in close.
"Fuck you," I growled, my voice low and dangerous.
He chuckled, the sound sending a fresh wave of frustration through me. Part of me wanted to smack that gorgeous face until he got angry enough to give me what I craved. But I knew it was futile; this had become a battle of wills, and he was the one holding strong.
"Such dirty words from such a pretty mouth," Oliver teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear. "Wait until we're alone."
Tossing the towel in the laundry bin, I stormed out into the lobby. The cooler air raised goosebumps on my flushed skin as I jabbed at the elevator button. I could feel Oliver's presence behind me, radiating heat and smug satisfaction. Inside the elevator, I pointedly ignored him, even as I felt his gaze burning into me.
"I hate you," I muttered, staring resolutely at the doors.
Oliver's voice was infuriatingly calm. "No, you hate yourself because you made a deal I won't break. I thought you were stronger."
I whirled to face him, my eyes flashing. "I would be if you weren't so fucking sexy. Next time, I'm marrying an average Joe," I shot back, only half-joking.
