The CEO's Contractual Wife - Chapter 60: Chapter 60

Olivia
"Looks amazing," I said, my voice coming out huskier than intended.
"Wait until you taste it." Alexander handed me a plate and grabbed his wine glass. "Let's eat outside."
I followed him to the deck, where a table overlooked the ocean. The moon cast a silver path across the water, and the sound of waves crashing against the rocks below created a peaceful soundtrack.
We sat across from each other, and I twirled some pasta onto my fork, taking a bite. The flavors exploded in my mouth: sweet tomatoes, sharp cheese, perfectly al dente pasta.
"Oh my god," I moaned, unable to help myself. "This is incredible."
Alexander's eyes darkened slightly. "I told you."
"Seriously, you could open a restaurant."
"I'll stick to running my company," he said with a small smile. "Cooking is just a hobby."
We ate in comfortable silence for a while, the food too good to interrupt with conversation. I caught Alexander watching me a few times, his gaze intense in a way that made heat pool in my belly.
"What?" I finally asked after the third time I caught him staring.
"You enjoy your food enthusiastically," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "It's distracting."
I felt my cheeks warm. "Sorry?"
"Don't apologize. I like watching you enjoy yourself."
The double meaning wasn't lost on me. I took another sip of wine, avoiding his eyes.
"So," I said, changing the subject, "you come here to escape. What are you escaping from exactly?"
Alexander considered the question, twirling pasta thoughtfully. "Expectations, mostly. Everyone wants something from me. The board, my family, the press. Here, I can just be."
"Must be nice," I said, surprised by his candor. "Having a place to disappear to."
"It is." He refilled our wine glasses. "What about you? Where do you go when you need to escape?"
I laughed softly. "My bathtub? Not quite as impressive as an oceanfront property, but it does the job."
"Nothing wrong with that." His eyes met mine over the rim of his glass. "Though my bathtub here has a much better view. You should try it sometime."
The image of me in his bathtub, possibly with him naked, flashed through my mind unbidden. Steam rose around our bodies, his hands skimming over my wet skin, my back against his chest as we watched the waves crash against the shore through those floor-to-ceiling windows.
The thought was so vivid, so tantalizingly real, that I had to press my thighs together under the table. My body hummed with a desire I hadn't felt in longer than I cared to admit, making it hard to remember all the reasons this was a terrible idea.
I took another gulp of wine.
"This pasta really is amazing," I said, desperately changing the subject.
Alexander smiled knowingly but allowed the deflection. "Glad you like it. Simple food done well is always the best."
After dinner, we cleared the plates together. The kitchen felt even smaller now, our bodies constantly brushing against each other as we moved around the space. Each contact sent little jolts of electricity through me.
As I rinsed a plate, Alexander reached past me for the dish soap, his chest pressing against my back again. This time, I was sure it wasn't accidental. His hips aligned perfectly with mine, and I could feel his cock pressing against my ass, half-hard and impossible to ignore.
I froze, the plate slipping from my fingers into the sink with a clatter.
"Sorry," Alexander murmured, not sounding sorry at all. "Tight space."
He didn't move away immediately, his body still pressed against mine. I should have stepped aside and created some distance, but my body refused to cooperate. Instead, I found myself leaning back slightly, my ass pressing more firmly against him.
A sharp intake of breath behind me was the only indication that he noticed. His hand came to rest on the counter beside mine, effectively caging me in.
"Olivia," he said, my name a warning and a question all at once.
"We should finish these dishes," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes, we should." But he still didn't move.
For several heartbeats, we stayed like that, neither advancing nor retreating. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Then, as if coming to his senses, Alexander stepped back.
"I'll dry," he said, grabbing a dish towel.
We finished cleaning in silence, the air between us charged with unspoken possibilities. I was acutely aware of every movement he made and every time he reached past me for another dish.
When the kitchen was spotless, Alexander poured us another glass of wine. "Want to sit outside? The stars are incredible here."
I nodded, grateful for the fresh air. My skin felt too tight, my body too warm.
We settled into comfortable chairs on the deck, the sound of waves crashing below us. The sky was indeed spectacular, a blanket of stars stretching endlessly above us.
"Thank you for dinner," I said after a while. "It was delicious."
"My pleasure." Alexander's voice was warm in the darkness. "It's nice cooking for someone who appreciates it."
"Do you do this often? Bring women here to cook for them?"
The question slipped out before I could stop it. I bit my lip, wishing I could take it back.
Alexander was quiet for a moment. "No," he finally said. "I don't bring many people here at all. This is my private space."
"Then why me?" I asked, genuinely curious.
He turned to look at me, his face half illuminated by the moonlight. "Because you needed a break. And because I wanted to share this place with you."
"Why?" I pressed.
"You ask a lot of questions," he observed, taking a sip of wine.
"Occupational hazard. Marketing requires curiosity."
He was quiet for a moment before continuing. "I brought you here because I wanted to see you away from everything else. No contracts, no family drama, no work hierarchy. Just us."
"Just us," I repeated softly. "And what exactly are we, Alexander?"