Hitched Volume 1 (Imperfect Love Book #1)

Noah

You know how men are supposed to be more direct and forceful, while women are gentler and more attuned to emotions? That’s horseshit. As business partners, Olivia and I blur gender stereotypes. I’m the “face,” the charismatic people-pleaser, while she’s the get-shit-done powerhouse. Playing to our strengths lets us divide and conquer.

Of course, it doesn’t hurt that men-especially stodgy, rich old farts-tend to listen better to other men. I can close deals over a round of golf, woo male and female clients alike, and generally sweet-talk my way through any situation. Which is exactly what I’ve spent this last week doing.

Today, though, I’m back in the office. And right now, I’m grinding my teeth at the sight of Harrison Ridgefield from the accounting department leering at Olivia’s cleavage.

“Something I can help you with there, buddy?” I snap as I step into Olivia’s office and stop right beside him.

His head jerks up and he smiles sheepishly, as if he knows he’s been caught. “Oh. Hey, Noah. Didn’t see you there,” he says, his voice unsteady.

“That’s because you were busy staring at my girlfriend’s . . . spreadsheets.”

Olivia and I haven’t announced our courtship yet, but rumor knows no bounds. The unofficial news has spread like fucking wildfire through our whole building.

Harrison swallows hard and takes a step back. “Congrats on all that, by the way.”

My blank stare says I’m on to you, prick. I even puff out my chest a little for good measure. Harrison isn’t a bad-looking guy. I hear the office gossip; I know he’s the wet dream of at least a few of the ladies here. But I’ve got about two inches on his six-foot frame, and more muscle too.

“Well, it looks like you’ve got it covered here, Olivia.” The douche bag treats her to a fond smile and steps away from her desk.

“Thanks, Harrison,” Olivia says as she watches him leave.

“What are you doing?” I glare down at Olivia’s monitor. There are pages and pages of data on her screen. I have no idea what it is-but I do know she looks stressed, and I want to fix it.

“Just trying to reconcile the invoices we sent clients last year with the actual dollars received.” She taps a four-inch-thick stack of printouts on her desk. “Something feels off about it.”

“Olivia . . .” I exhale slowly.

Her eyes jerk up to mine. “What?”

“You shouldn’t be spending your time on menial shit like this. We have too much strategizing and brand-building to do to keep your head buried in busywork.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Cranky-Pants, but ‘burying my head’ might end up saving us a fuck-ton of money.” Her blue eyes burn brightly, and I know I’m in for a fight if I push too hard.

Well, too bad. I’ll grab the tiger by the tail if that’s what it takes to stop her.

“What I’m trying to say is that your talents are wasted on this. Your time is valuable. This is what I mean when I say you work too hard. Tasks like these need to be delegated. You don’t have to do everything yourself.”

“Harrison was helping me-”

I hold up one hand. “Harrison was enjoying the peep show. Nothing more.” I make a point of letting my gaze drop slowly from hers down to the front of her blouse. The sight of the top of her firm, round breasts cradled in a delicate nude-colored bra makes my mouth water. I ignore the tingle at the base of my spine and the blood surging toward my groin, and take a deep breath.

Olivia’s gaze jerks from mine down to her cleavage, and she hoists her shirt up higher. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, he was not.”

She is seriously delusional. Harrison has had a wicked crush on her for three years. And he’s an underperforming ass, if you ask me.

“God, you’re grumpy today. Why don’t you go get one of those blow jobs you like from Jenni in HR?”

“Huh. I’m surprised you know about that.” I enjoyed a handful of oral encounters from a nice admin assistant earlier this year, but all that is over.

“I know everything that goes on around here.” She smirks.

Hell. “First of all, Jenni no longer works here.”

“Oh, darn.” She snaps her fingers in mock outrage.

“Secondly . . .” I lean my hip against her desk. “Even if she did, I’d have zero interest in seeing her lips around my cock right now.”

“The infamous Noah Tate, not interested in chasing tail? Do I need to call you an ambulance?” she teases. “Or are you just having too much fun bugging me and keeping me away from work?”

My temper rising, I stand my ground. “Because I think of myself as a taken man now.”

Her eyebrows dart up. “Are you serious? You’re really not going to mess around?”

“Not with anyone who isn’t you,” I say smoothly.

“I-um . . . So, monogamy really is part of the deal?” she stammers. “I’ve had a standing Wednesday-night thing with a guy from the gym. Should I cancel that for the next little bit?”

My nostrils flare and I bite back my temper. “Hell yeah, it is, and yeah, you should. What goes for me, goes for you. You aren’t to mess around with anyone who isn’t me. I don’t even want to think about another man touching what’s mine.” I lean down and growl the last part close to her ear.

She sucks in her breath, her pupils dilating, then composes herself. “As long as you know that this works both ways. If I find your totem pole next to anyone else, consider yourself castrated. Think Lorena Bobbitt, but without the whole finding-it part.”

On the surface, her reaction isn’t exactly promising. But I know that deep down, I’ve affected her. I’ve seen the way she looks at me when she doesn’t think I’m watching.

“And for the record, I was kidding about the guy at the gym, Noah.”

Thank God, because I was already planning to go down to her gym after work and find the helpless fuck to punch him square in the kisser.

I step away from her desk and watch as Olivia’s eyes narrow on my form. Tucking my hands into my pockets, I almost chuckle as her gaze follows the movement, her eyes drifting down to my crotch. But they dart up again and she lets out a frustrated huff.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

“If you’re so confident, how about we place a bet?” I ask.

“Name your terms.”

She smirks at me, pretending to be unaffected. Too bad I know exactly the effect I can have on a woman when I turn on the charm.

I lean in closer. “I’ll give you four days until you’re begging for me to fill your hot little cunt,” I murmur.

Her jaw drops, but she recovers quickly. “Not even in four years.”

“I was going to say four hours, but I didn’t want to get cocky,” I tease.

“Trust me. I can hold out for a long time.” Olivia leans back in her desk chair, her pose casual and confident.

“Dry spell?”

She rolls her eyes. “Perpetually.”

Fuck. That makes me want her so much more, knowing that she’s all pent-up and unsatisfied.

“No battery-operated boyfriends.”

Her gaze darkens. “Fine. No hand jobs either then.”

My jaw tenses. Like that will happen. “There’s always the trial run I proposed at happy hour.”

She chews on her thumbnail. “I haven’t had time to consider it yet, but I’ll keep you posted when I decide.”

A knock on the door grabs our attention. It’s Fred.

“Hey, kids, time for the meeting.”

Olivia checks her watch. “Be there right away, Dad.”

Knowing our conversation isn’t even close to finished, I offer her a hand to assist her from her seat, bringing her eye level with me. “We’ll finish this later, Snowflake.”

She scoffs and struts down the hall in front of me, her gorgeous round ass swaying as she moves.

“Four days,” I call to her as I catch up.