CHAPTER 177: CHAPTER 177

Olivia’s POV

"I... I’m sorry," I stammered, trying to hide my shock and embarrassment.

How was I supposed to explain this embarrassing situation?

Think, Olivia. Think!

I watched in humiliation as Maxwell calmly set down his tablet and adjusted himself, tucking his dick back in place like it was nothing.

"Do you need something?" His voice was too calm for someone who’d just been caught touching himself.

At that moment, my brain finally caught up with the reality of my appearance.

Oh God. Oh no. Oh no no no.

I wasn’t wearing Oliver’s facial hair. The binding was off. I was just... me. Olivia. In baggy clothes and a wig, but without any of the masculine touches that made the disguise work.

Had he noticed?

Immediately, I turned and ran from the room, slamming the connecting door behind me and leaning against it, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might break through my ribs.

Did he see? Did he notice? Please tell me he was too... distracted to notice.

I stood there, pressed against the door, trying to catch my breath and figure out what the hell I was going to do now.

That’s when I heard it.

Footsteps.

From the other side of the door.

No. No, he’s not... He wouldn’t...

But the footsteps were getting closer to the connecting door. Closer to me.

Panic seized me completely. Without thinking, I launched myself toward the bed, diving under the covers and pulling the duvet up to my chin. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to regulate my breathing, trying to look like someone who’d been peacefully asleep this entire time and definitely hadn’t just fallen through a door while eavesdropping.

I heard the click of the connecting door opening from his side.

My heart stopped.

Then... silence.

Complete silence.

Maybe I imagined it. Maybe he didn’t actually come in. Maybe he just opened the door to check the lock and...

Hot breath fanned my ear.

"Oliver."

"My goodness!" The word exploded from my lips as my eyes flew open, my heart nearly leaving my chest.

So much for pretending to be asleep.

Maxwell stood beside my bed, still in just his boxer briefs, his refined body illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the windows.

I could still see is hard dick poking through his boxers, and I immediately averted my eyes, heat flooding my face.

I pulled the duvet higher until it covered everything from my nose down to my legs. Only my eyes were visible, peering at him over the fabric barrier like it could somehow protect me from this mortifying situation.

Maxwell didn’t seem bothered by his state of undress. Didn’t seem bothered by anything, actually.

"Why were you in my room?" His voice was steady, curious. "What did you want?"

I wanted you to fuck me!

"What?" He voiced out.

Had I just said that out loud? Please tell me I didn’t just say that out loud.

Maxwell’s eyebrow raised slightly. "I asked what you wanted."

"Nothing!" I stammered, gripping the duvet tighter. "I didn’t want anything! I was just... concerned. About the noise. I thought you were in danger."

Danger. Right. Because that makes total sense.

To my absolute horror, instead of leaving, he sat down on the edge of my bed, like this was a normal conversation to be having at one in the morning while half-naked in his assistant’s bedroom.

"What kind of sound did you hear?" he asked, his voice dropping lower, making something flutter in my stomach.

The question made my mind flash back to those groans, and I felt my face burn even hotter under the duvet.

When I didn’t answer, frozen by embarrassment and confusion and a dozen other emotions I couldn’t name, he leaned closer still.

"What did you hear, Oliver?"

"I... noises," I managed weakly. "Noises that sounded like... like you were in pain."

It was the worst excuse ever created in the history of excuses, and we both knew it.

Maxwell lowered himself further, propping himself up on one arm so he was hovering over me, his face now close enough that I could see the intensity in his green eyes.

There was no room to breathe anymore. If I tried to take a deep breath, I’d just breathe him in - his scent, his presence, everything that was scrambling my thoughts and making it impossible to think straight.

"Did I really sound like I was in pain?" he whispered, his voice like velvet in the darkness.

I could only nod, not trusting my voice.

"Are you sure that’s what you heard?" He moved closer. "Pain?"

Another nod. That was all I could manage.

"Do you like pain, Oliver?"

The question hung in the air between us, filled with intense sexual tension. God, he wasn’t even touching me, but I felt like his hands were everywhere.

I nodded before I could stop myself.

He lowered himself again, his mouth now mere inches from mine, only the duvet separating us.

"Do you want to know what pain feels like?"

My breath hitched. My entire body was trembling. By now I was already a pool of wetness, the bed probably soaked from all the fluid leaving my body.

"Yes," I whispered.

The word had barely left my lips when Maxwell’s hand came up, gently pulling the duvet down from where I’d been holding it tightly.

And then his mouth was on mine.

Maxwell’s POV

The moment my mouth touched hers, I knew I’d made a terrible mistake.

Because I didn’t think I could stop.

Her lips felt softer. God, it’s been so long since I tasted this lips. That drama in the car suddenly felt like ages ago.

But then this wasn’t the plan.

I’d been cursing myself from the moment I followed her into this room. I shouldn’t have done it. Shouldn’t have opened that connecting door. Shouldn’t have walked in here knowing damn well I wouldn’t be able to leave without touching her.

The plan had been simple: rattle her a little with the sounds from my room, destabilize her, make her uncomfortable enough that she’d slip up and MAYBE reveal herself - because I was seriously getting tired of waiting. Watch her squirm. Enjoy the game.

But then she’d fallen through that door and all my plans had gone straight to hell.

Because seeing her there, flustered and embarrassed and trying so hard to maintain Oliver’s identity while her real face peeked through her hoody had been too much. Too tempting.

And now I was kissing her, and she was kissing me back, and it was getting too heated, too out of control for me to manage.

Her hands had come up to grip my shoulders - whether to push me away or pull me closer, I wasn’t sure she even knew. But the touch sent electricity through every nerve ending, made me want to forget every rule, every plan, every reason this was a terrible idea.

Stop. You need to stop. Before you ruin everything.

But I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t pull away. Could only deepen the kiss, tasting her, feeling her respond beneath me, hearing her breathing quicken...

And then she moaned.

Soft and breathy, I almost lost control.

The sound I’d been waiting for.

It took every ounce of willpower I possessed, but I forced myself to stop. To pull back before I lost control completely, before I did something that would expose my hand too early in this game.

I leaned in close to her ear, my breathing still ragged, my body screaming at me to continue what I’d started.

"Hope you felt pain through that sound?" I whispered, keeping my voice low.