Hitched Volume 1 (Imperfect Love Book #1)

The kettle whistles, saving me from needing to say anything else other than, “I’ll get that.”

“Thanks.” Noah speaks over his shoulder as he concentrates on the panful of hissing eggs, and my stomach growls; our food looks nearly done. “I already put the leaves in the pot.”

I pour the hot water into our new teapot, fix a cup of coffee for myself, and bring everything to the table. Noah serves up two plates, each holding half of a perfect spinach-mushroom omelet.

We eat by the dining area’s bay windows, enjoying the early morning’s airy sunlight and the view of Manhattan sprawled out beneath us. Our conversation is surprisingly pleasant-talking shop, tossing ideas for our new business plan back and forth. I start to relax. Maybe being roommates will work fine after all. We’ve only stayed one night, but this place is already starting to feel like home.

I finish my last bite of eggs with a contented sigh. A fresh, hot breakfast is definitely a nice way to start my morning. My usual routine consists of grabbing a bagel or muffin while running out the door. If Noah’s trying to suck up to me, it’s working.

A girl could get used to this . . .

Unfortunately, we’ve dawdled long enough. We need to get to the office soon. I stow my plate and mug in the dishwasher and start heading to the bathroom to put on my makeup.

But as I turn, Noah catches me by the shoulders and spins me around again. His strong arms wrap tight around me. Before I can think, he crushes our lips together.

I gasp. It’s nothing like last night’s kiss. That was soft and sweet, the lightest possible touch, like trying not to spook a skittish animal. This is a different kind of taming-hard, rough, fiery. The kid gloves have come off. Noah has caught me, claimed me, and arousal flares through my body like the heat of a brand.

Caught off guard, I can’t hold back a moan. I’m shocked to find my muscles turning to jelly. I cling to him just to stay on my feet.

Everything about Noah pours into my senses. I soak up his body heat, the rasp of stubble around my lips, the masculine scents of piney soap and spicy aftershave.

He devours my mouth and leaves me dizzy, panting for air. His teeth nip and scrape at my lips. His tongue licks deep, skating over mine, a tantalizing preview of how that hot, agile muscle might move over my clit. A vivid promise of the pleasure I could have . . . if I’d only let him give it to me.

I remember how he moaned my name in the bathroom last night. The memory of those dark, needy noises send another flood of heat through me. Maybe I’m not just another conquest to him; maybe he’s just as powerless in his own way.

Suddenly, I can’t figure out why I ever hesitated. I had a hot, willing man practically begging to blow my mind. What was the point of denying myself a good time? I arch up, pressing our hips together, and feel a twin flash of hunger and triumph at the long, thick hardness that pokes into my belly.

Then Noah steps back. All the touch I’m craving-the warm, muscled body and the hot, wet mouth-suddenly just disappears. It takes me a moment to register what happened.

Still dazed with lust, I blink up at him. “What . . . ?”

“It’s time to leave. We’re going to be late for work.”

“Work?” The word comes out as a disappointed whine.

He grins like he just won the Super Bowl. “You’re the one who set our limits at first base. Although, if you want more, I think the office could survive another hour without us. But you’ll have to ask nicely.”

As the fog of horniness clears away from my mind, I realize what’s going on here. Oh, you son of a bitch . . .

Noah was playing with me this whole time. His plan all along was to tease me until I got desperate enough to loosen our agreement’s restrictions. He’s trying to tempt me into admitting that I want to be more than just friends. He thinks he can prove himself right and also get laid-two birds with one stone.

Well, he can just forget about it. Olivia Cane does not beg. Ever.

I’m almost more pissed off at myself than him. What the hell was I thinking? Not much, that’s for sure. My libido just totally ripped me out of the driver’s seat. I’ve never felt so out of control before. And if I have anything to say about it, this first time will also be the last.

Damn, my lips still tingle from his kiss. My face burns with embarrassment and the last stubborn traces of arousal.

Trying to collect myself, I give Noah the dirtiest look I can muster. “You’re the devil.”

“I’m pretty sure that would make you the queen of hell, then.” He pauses. “Actually, maybe that’s not so inaccurate . . .”Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“Congratulations, smartass, you get to finish the dishes while I put on my makeup.” I turn on my heel and stalk away to the bathroom.

“As you wish,” he calls down the hall after me.

I set my jaw, trying to tamp down my irritation and lingering horniness. I know of only one sure way to shut him up. Unfortunately, as I just learned, he would only turn a kiss to his advantage again.

I can’t forget Noah’s boast about how I’d be begging by Day Four. At first, I thought there was no way I’d give in that easily. But now, only one day later, I’m not so sure.