The CEO's Contractual Wife (Olivia and Alexander) novel Chapter 277

Chapter 277

Olivia

I ate another piece, juice coating my lips. He kissed me hard, his tongue sweeping into my mouth to taste the fruit. One hand tangled in my hair while the other palmed my breast through the bikini top.

His thumb brushed my nipple through the fabric, and I gasped against his mouth.

“Stop.” I pulled back, breathless. “I actually want to eat mango”

Alexander’s eyes darkened. “Now?”

“Yes, now. I’m hungry.”

I took a slow bite, the fruit exploding across my tongue. More juice ran down my throat, disappearing beneath the bikini top.

Alexander’s fingers traced the path, following the sticky sweetness down to where it vanished between my breasts. “Messy girl.”

“Your fault for bringing such juicy fruit.”

“Everything’s my fault apparently.”

I fed him another piece, my fingers brushing his lips. He caught my wrist, sucking the juice from my fingertips one by one. His tongue swirled around each digit, and heat pooled between my thighs.

“That’s not eating,” I protested weakly.

“Cleaning up after you.” His teeth grazed my index finger. “Someone has to.”

I pulled my hand away and reached for the mango again. This time, I brought it to my mouth but missed deliberately, letting it slide down my neck.

“Oops.”

Alexander groaned. “You’re fucking killing me.”

His mouth was on my throat instantly, tongue lapping up the sweet trail. I arched into him, my hands gripping his shoulders. He sucked hard enough to leave a mark, then moved lower, following the juice down to my collarbone.

“We’re supposed to be eating,” I breathed.

“We are.” His teeth scraped my skin. “Just not the way you meant.”

I grabbed more mango and ate it properly this time. Alexander watched every movement of my mouth. his eyes tracking my lips, my tongue, the way I swallowed.

“Stop staring.”

“Can’t help it. You’re beautiful when

you

eat.”

“That’s a weird compliment.”

“It’s true.” He took a piece himself, biting into it with exaggerated care. “See? I can behave.”

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I laughed, grabbing my own piece. We ate in comfortable silence for a while, passing the fruit back and forth juice can down our fingers, our chins, making everything sticky and sweet.

“This was a good idea,” I said, licking juice from my palm.

“The mango or the foreplay?”

“Both.”

His hand slid up my thigh. “We could combine them.”

“We are combining them.”

“I meant more directly.” His fingers brushed the edge of my bikini bottoms. “Let me show you what I mean

“Absolutely not. We’re eating.”

“Spoilsport.”

****

Alexander opened the fridge later that evening, surveying the ingredients the staff had stocked. Rows of fresh vegetables. premium cuts of meat, and cheeses imported from god knows where.

He pulled out steaks, thick and marbled. Fresh vegetables followed: asparagus, tomatoes, and lettuce. Potatoes went on the

counter last.

I joined him, examining the selection with approval. “Impressive spread.”

“Carter money buys quality groceries.” He unwrapped the steaks, the meat deep red and perfect. Think you can handle vegetables?”

“I can handle more than vegetables.”

“Good. Then you’re on salad duty.”

He seasoned the steaks while I chopped vegetables, the knife moving smoothly through crisp lettuce and ripe tomatoes. Cucumbers, peppers, and red onion. I assembled everything in a large bowl.

Alexander filled a pot with water and set the potatoes boiling. Then he heated a cast iron skillet, the metal warming with a satisfying sizzle when he tested it with water drops.

I moved to his side to prep asparagus, washing the stalks and snapping off the woody ends. Our shoulders brushed, and he glanced over with a small smile.

“Pass the olive oil,” I said.

He handed it over, his fingers lingering on mine.

I drizzled oil over the asparagus and added salt and pepper.

He placed the steaks in the screaming hot pan. They sizzled immediately, filling the kitchen with the smell of searing meat. I watched him work, his movements confident and practiced.

I finished with the asparagus and moved to the salad, tossing it with vinaigrette. The kitchen felt warm and domestic, just the two of us cooking together like an actual couple instead of people bound by contracts and obligations.

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Alexander flipped the steaks, checking the temperature with practiced precision. “Almost there.”

“How do you like yours?”

“Medium rare. You?”

“Same.”

He nodded approvingly. “Good taste.”

I leaned against the counter, watching him cook. The muscles in his forearms flexed as he maneuvered the heavy pan. His hair was still slightly damp from our earlier shower, curling at the ends.

“Stop staring,” he said without looking up.

“Can’t help it. You’re beautiful when you cook.”

He laughed. “Throwing my words back at me?”

“Seemed appropriate.”

The steaks came off the heat, resting on a cutting board. Alexander drained the potatoes and started mashing them with butter and cream, his movements efficient.

I moved behind him, sliding my arms around his waist. “Smells amazing.”

“Hands off the chef.” But he leaned back into me. “I’m working here.”

“So work. I’m just supervising.”

His hand found mine, threading our fingers together. “Supervising requires standing back, not pressing your tits against me.”

“My method is more effective.”

He turned in my arms, backing me against the counter. His hands gripped my hips, lifting me onto the marble surface.

“Alex, the food-”

“Can wait sixty seconds.” His mouth found mine, hungry and demanding.

I kissed him back just as hard, my hands tangling in his hair. He tasted like salt and heat, his tongue sweeping into my mouth with possessive strokes.

When he pulled back, we were both breathing harder.

“Distraction,” I accused.

“You started it.” He returned to the stove, checking the asparagus. “Now let me finish before everything gets cold

I hopped down from the counter, grabbing plates from the cabinet. “Bossy.”

“Practical.”

Alexander plated everything while I set the table on the outdoor deck overlooking the ocean. The sun was beginning its descent, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that reflected off the calm water.

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you here.

I lit candles even though the sunset provided plenty of light. Something about the flickering flames felt romantic, intimate.

When I returned inside, Alexander was opening a bottle of expensive red wine, pouring two generous glasses with careful precision.

“Ready,” he announced, carrying both plates.