Chapter 14 #2
Everyone looks at her. She looks anywhere but at us.
“Violet,” Cami says slowly. “Anything you want to share with the class?”
She sighs. “Okay. Fine. I’m pregnant. I didn’t want to tell you during Poppy’s special time.”
I’m out of my seat in seconds, hugging her. “Violet, no. I’m so happy for you guys. This is big.”
We celebrate her right there, clinking glasses and laughing and crying all over again.
When Violet drops me off at home later, my arms are full of bags.
A dress for the reception, new makeup, and several sets of lingerie I swore I’d never wear, but they bought them for me anyway.
I’ve never had fancy lingerie, and honestly, I couldn’t stop looking at all of the pretty things in every color imaginable.
I may be a mechanic, but I am a girly girl at heart.
I love feeling pretty and having nice clothes.
When I’m not working and wearing my usual navy coveralls, I love to dress up.
Of course, I haven’t had the money for cute clothes for a while, but I also love thrifting and finding pieces to pair with what I already have.
But the lingerie? Cute panty-and-bra sets have always been Violet’s thing.
She told me she pretty much has a rainbow-colored collection of every color and style possible, and she loves to feel pretty and sexy.
She told me that when she met Walker, and he found out she wore those every day, it practically made him feral.
I think about adding more to my collection, because I want to feel like that, too.
And maybe I’d love to see Ollie be feral, too.
I unlock the door and step into the apartment, smiling so hard my face aches. I’ve never felt so full. And for the first time, I let myself wonder if maybe what I want and what Ollie wants don’t have to be so different after all.
The apartment is dim and peaceful, a candle lit on the coffee table, which surprises me because Ollie is usually anti-candles as a firefighter. He only lights them for special occasions. And today’s been a very special day, I guess you could say.
Ollie’s on the couch, sprawled out, arm behind his head. He looks tired in that good way, like his body earned it. And damn it’s a nice body.
“Hey,” he says softly, sitting up and coming to the door to help me with my bags.
“Hey,” I whisper back, smiling, kissing him softly, his warm lips gentle on mine.
“How was your day? Owen already asleep?” I ask, glancing around at the spotless apartment that smells amazing, like a yummy dinner that was made here.
He perks up. “Yeah, he’s out like a light.
It was such a good day. You should’ve seen him today.
Jack took us out to the back pasture on a ride to check some cattle.
Owen rode like he’d been doing it his whole life.
Didn’t complain once and asked a million questions.
I swear, I’ve never been prouder. He’s a natural at ranch life, Poppy. ”
My chest warms. “Sounds like you both had the best time. You haven’t been out on the ranch in a while, either.”
Ollie grew up on Wilder Ranch and loved it when his grandpa Wilder was running it.
Then, after he passed away, it became like a violation of child labor laws out there instead of fun.
It has taken him a while to enjoy it out there again.
With Jack home now, running both Wilder Ranch and The Jessop Ranch together, he’s made Ollie’s visits more fun.
Ollie grins. “I didn’t realize how much I missed it. It was a great day. How was yours? What did you get?”
I set my bags on the table. “Shopping was really fun. I got so many pretty things.”
He tucks a long lock of my blonde hair behind my shoulder and murmurs, while his eyes scan me in the candlelight. “You look so beautiful. I love your hair like this.”
“Thanks. I had a blowout, and my makeup done. Got some things for the reception,” I say shyly.
He’s already digging through the bags like a kid on Christmas morning. “You got a lot of cool makeup.”
“Don’t you dare look at the dress,” I warn as I hang up my coat. “You’re not supposed to see me in it before the reception Violet said.”
He freezes, holding up a piece of light pink lingerie, mouth hanging open like his brain just shut off.
I snatch it out of his hands, forgetting about the lingerie. “Violet insisted,” I say quickly, tucking it back into the bag.
“Well, hold on, now. I think you should model the lingerie at least,” he says, grinning.
“Not a chance.” I smirk. “I do like the lingerie, though. I’ve never owned any pretty bra-and-panty sets. I might start wearing them regularly.”
“You’re going to give me a permanent hard-on,” he groans. “I can’t go through my day knowing that’s what you’re wearing.”
“That’s going to be painful for you,” I tease.
He laughs, eyes bright, and he gets more serious. “You’re getting into this. I love it.”
“Yeah,” I admit, smiling. “I kinda do too.”
He pulls me in, slow and warm, and kisses me. One kiss turns into several, soft and unhurried. I end up straddling him without even thinking about it, my hands in his hair, his hands steady at my waist.
Eventually, I pull back, breathless. “We should probably go to bed.”
“Yeah,” he says, forehead pressed to mine. “But, I like kissing you.”
“I love kissing you,” I say, and I mean it.
I grab my pajamas and head for the bathroom. He follows, leaning in the doorway.
“It’d be faster if we showered together,” he says lightly.
I smirk. “Best friends don’t shower together.”
“Pretend fiancés do,” he replies and shrugs. “Haven’t you heard? Apparently, it’s a new thing.”
He steps closer, brushing his thumb over my lips. “And if you like what I do with my mouth here, you should see what else I can do with it.”
Holy shit. I want to see.
I grab his shirt and pull him into the bathroom before I can overthink it and push the door shut quietly.
I turn the water on to cover up any sounds, and he backs me gently against the wall, kissing me until my knees forget how to work.
I drop my clothes on the floor. Ollie watches me with eyes that are nothing short of wanting to devour me.
He strips off his shirt with one easy motion, reaching back and tugging it free at the back of his neck.
The sight of him always makes my breath hitch.
His body is all hard lines and strength, a solid wall of muscle across his chest, broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist with that deep V pulls my gaze lower, my pulse skidding.
He slides his shorts and boxer down, making his cock spring free, and my mouth practically waters for it.
It’s definitely not an average cock, that’s for sure.
My best friend has been packing a massive cock, and you’re telling me I’ve held back on this?
I shake my head, thinking that I have been crazy to deny this all along.
“Okay, ground rules. What if we just got this out of our system one time?” I ask nervously.
He laughs. “You think one time would cure you from wanting it more?”
His hands trail down my breasts, and I moan. “Ollie, I need an orgasm so bad. I need this. It’s been so long. I can’t even take care of it because we share a bed.”
God, I hate how I’m begging, but I need this. So badly. I haven’t been with anyone in an embarrassing amount of time.
Ollie nips at my ear and says, “You might be pretending about marrying me. But there isn’t anything pretend about what I’m going to do to you with this mouth. And all you had to do was ask. I’ll give you what you need tonight, baby.”
His dirty words send a shiver through me, heat curling low in my belly, leaving me dizzy and undone.
We step into the warm water, and he backs me up until the tile is cold against my spine, his body all heat and pressure, trapping me there like he means to keep me forever.
Steam curls around us, thick and clinging, fogging the edges of the world until it’s just us. Ollie drops to his knees in front of me, so suddenly it steals my breath. The sight of him there sends a jolt straight through me.
He looks up at me, dark eyes locked on mine, hot and intent and unflinching. Like he’s exactly where he wants to be.
His hands slide firmly over my thighs, spreading them, anchoring me in place. The confidence of it makes my knees go weak. My body reacts before my brain can catch up, heat pooling low and urgent, my pulse hammering everywhere at once.
I gasp as his mouth finds me, skilled and relentless, and my head falls back against the tile. Sensation builds fast, rolling and sharp and overwhelming. My thighs start to tremble, betraying me completely.
One of my hands dives into his hair, fingers threading through the dark strands, gripping just enough to guide him, to tell him exactly where I need him. The other arm flies up, pressing across my mouth as a broken sound tears out of me anyway.
He doesn’t rush it.
Just when I feel myself tipping too close, he eases back, drawing it out until I’m breathless and aching and desperate. Then he takes me right back there again, slow and sure, over and over, until my whole body is shaking and I can barely stay upright.
I’m so close it hurts.
And he knows it.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, the sound barely holding together.
His grip tightens, grounding me, owning me, and when his hand comes up to cover my mouth, it’s gentle but commanding, like he knows exactly how close I am to unraveling.
“Ollie,” I moan, his name breaking apart on my tongue again and again until it’s all I can say, all I can think about, until pleasure crashes through me so hard that I shake, clinging to him as I come undone against his mouth.
He rises slowly, water streaming down his chest, eyes dark and locked on mine. The hunger in his expression steals my breath. Every inch of him is tight with restraint, with want. I swallow hard.
“Ollie,” I pant, breathless.
He murmurs, mouth at my ear now, voice low. “Told you I could do things with that mouth.”
I laugh softly, shaky and breathless. “Showers together are absolutely dangerous with you.”
He smiles against me, wicked and warm. “Worth the risk.”
My hand drops to him without thinking, fingers curling, and the sound he makes is rough and unfiltered, like I’ve touched something raw. He presses his forehead to mine, both of us breathing hard, bodies slick and flushed and aching.
He grabs my hand. “I can’t,” he says quietly, steady even though I can feel how hard this is for him. “Not like that.”
I look at him, confused, breath still uneven.
“It’s not about wanting you,” he continues, voice low and honest. “God, Poppy, that’s not the problem.”
He swallows, eyes holding mine. “I don’t want you giving me pieces of yourself like this if your heart isn’t all the way in. I don’t want something that’s half real. I don’t want comfort or relief or a moment that we pretend doesn’t mean anything tomorrow.”
His thumb brushes my hand, grounding, reverent. “If this was just about sex, I’d do it. But it’s not.”
He exhales slowly. “I only want you like this if you’re choosing me. All of me, for real. No pretend. Not because you’re lonely.”
His gaze softens and he continues, fierce and gentle at the same time. “I don’t want your body unless your heart is ready to come with it.”
Wow. I didn’t expect that from him. But I respect the hell out of that.
“I’m terrified you’ll wake up one day and realize I’m too much,” I admit.
He lets out a shaky laugh. “Poppy, I’ve already built my whole life around you. Waking up and choosing you is the easy part.”
He cups my face. “I’m not going anywhere. Not tomorrow, and not when things get hard. I’m right here. It’s always you.”
“Always you,” I whisper as he kisses me.
I’ve spent so long believing love had to hurt to be real. But standing here with him, wrapped in warmth and promise, I realize maybe real love feels like safe and chosen.