Page 16 of Little Did You Know

Remind me to kill Hannah tomorrow.

I turned my gaze away from her to gather a clear thought. "Why can't you sleep?"

"I'm usually an early riser." Her fingers traced absent patterns on the marble countertop. "I like to work out first thing in the morning, and I can't convince my mind or body that I'm not working out today."

"You want to work out?" My fingers drummed against the counter, a plan forming.

Olivia straightened, energy suddenly radiating from her stance. "Yes."

I pushed away from the counter, realizing this may be good for both of us because I had a lot of built-up tension I needed to release. "Go change and meet me down here."

Fifteen minutes later, I was waiting in the kitchen when she appeared through the doors.

She emerged in running gear that left me questioning my sanity. The spandex shorts clung like a second skin, and her sports bra turned every breath into a study in torture. My gaze traced the elegant line of her spine, the gentle curve where waist met hip. I forced myself to look away, but the image was already branded into my mind—the way she moved like liquid grace, unconscious of her effect on me.

"What do you normally do first?" I tried distracting myself by stretching.

"I usually run," she replied. "Sometimes I run to the gym and then work out, but most times I run."

"Great, let's go." I hoped this run would help me because right now, I had a hard-on the size of Texas, and I needed to burn endorphins. I led her to my backyard and out past the pool, where there was a large running track. I'd always enjoyed running, but once the paparazzi started showing interest in me, I didn't have the option to run anywhere anymore. I'd bought a large piece of the property behind me and built a private track.

I let her lead—a mistake. Three strides in, watching her move ahead of me became its own form of torture. I caught up, matching her punishing pace. We blew past my usual five-mile limit, lungs burning, sweat-blind. Only when muscles screamed louder than desire did my mind finally clear.

By the time she stopped, neither of us could breathe. I'd never run so hard in my life. I preferred a slower, steadier pace of about five miles, but we had passed that five-mile mark long ago and at a much faster pace, but it did seem to help get my mind off sex.

I collapsed onto the damp grass, muscles screaming in protest. "Do you always run like that?"

Olivia braced her hands on her knees, each word punctuated by ragged breaths. "Yeah... I like to run."

"I think you were trying to kill me." My heart hammered against my ribs as she flashed a smile, sweat glistening on her throat.

The playfulness drained from her expression. "Have you heard from Emmett?" I shook my head as my jaw tightened and I stared at the track ahead. “Will you let me know when you do?”

"Of course." Words about yesterday's discoveries pressed against my teeth, but I swallowed them back. Part of me wanted to say something about everything I'd found out yesterday, but if she didn't know what was going on, it would only make her worry more, and I didn't want that. For now, or at least until I figured this out, I'd keep it to myself. "Let's go get breakfast."

The walk back to the house stretched between us, filled with the sounds of our breathing gradually returning to normal. Morning light spilled across the property, transforming everything it touched into gold. Neither of us spoke—as if the spell of exertion still held us, as if words might shatter the strange peace we'd found in exhaustion.

Arlena had anticipated our return. The patio table was set with steaming coffee, fresh fruit, and eggs that caught the light like small suns on white plates. Olivia sank into her chair with a grateful sigh as I took the seat opposite, the sunrise painting her profile in amber and rose.

The silence between us crackled with unspoken words. I stabbed at my eggs, desperately cataloging stock numbers, client meetings—anything to block out the way morning light played across her collarbone, the way her lips curved around the rim of her coffee cup.

"Do you masturbate?"

Coffee burned through my sinuses as I choked, the question landing like a match in gasoline. Some distant part of my brain registered the irony: after all my efforts at self-control, it was her innocence that finally shattered it.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" She leaned forward, the movement pushing her tits up in the tight bra.

I set down my cup with deliberate care, buying seconds. "I'm not used to having these kinds of conversations over breakfast." My voice emerged steadier than it had any right to be.

Her head tilted to one side, brow furrowed in that impossibly innocent way. "Should we wait for lunch?"

I gripped my coffee cup like a shield, forcing my voice to stay steady, deciding honesty was the best way to go here. "Yes, occasionally I masturbate." Her face crinkled in serious thought. "Why?"

She traced the rim of her coffee cup with one finger. "Hannah says everyone masturbates. That it's a natural concept and that it helps with sexual tension." Her eyes met mine with clinical curiosity.

The question burst from my lips before I could cage it. "Do you?" I was interested, but I wasn't sure I could handle the answer. It would haunt me if she said yes, which she certainly would. The thought of her lying one room away from me every night, possibly touching herself, would probably be too much for me to handle.

"No." She wrapped both hands around her coffee mug, steam curling between her fingers. "But I'm thinking about trying it." She said it so casually, as if she was referring to taking up a new sport or hobby and something inside, perhaps intuition, told me she was dead serious.

---