6. Olivia
OLIVIA
There was no hesitation. No second guessing.
I’d been sure about Garner for as long as I could remember.
When he looked at me, I knew he saw it too.
That this thing between us wasn’t fake. It never had been.
His jaw flexed like he was trying to find the right words, but I didn’t need them.
I moved closer, slid my fingers up the back of his neck, and kissed him.
It was the kind of kiss that told the truth… deep, intentional, and more than a little desperate.
He groaned low in his chest and kissed me back, like the dam holding back his feelings had finally cracked.
His hands moved to my waist, then splayed across my back, holding me in a way that felt like he didn’t want to let go.
His mouth moved over mine like he knew every inch by heart.
Like he’d imagined this a thousand times and couldn’t believe it was real now.
I couldn’t either.
My hands were in his hair, on his jaw, pressed to his bare chest the second he tugged off his shirt. I ran my palms over his tattoos, tracing them like they meant something. Like they were pieces of him I’d never gotten to touch before. He was solid, warm, and already breathing heavy.
We sat up so he could pull my shirt over my head and toss it on the floor. His eyes dropped to my bare skin, and he froze.
“Liv,” he said, voice raw. “If we do this…”
“I know,” I whispered.
That was all it took.
He kissed me again, slower this time. His hands skimmed my arms, my sides, every curve he’d never touched but had probably memorized from years of being close and never crossing the line. His touch made my breath catch, not from nerves, but from how much I wanted this. Wanted him.
He laid me back on the bed with a gentleness that made my chest ache, like I was something he didn’t quite believe he was allowed to have. But when I pulled him down with me, there was no more hesitation.
I couldn’t stop touching him. Couldn’t stop staring at his face, the way his eyes darkened when I whispered his name. The way he swore under his breath when my fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his sweats.
Our kisses grew deeper as he tugged off his sweats, then gently slid my shorts and panties down my legs. All that mattered was skin and heat and the way he looked at me like I was the only thing that existed. We were tangled up, breathless and bare, and everything felt sharp and alive.
“Tell me this is real,” he said against my collarbone, his voice wrecked.
I arched into him. “It’s real.”
He pressed a kiss there, then another, lower. His mouth trailed down my body like he was cataloging every inch. He didn’t rush. Didn’t push. Just touched me in a way that made it impossible to think.
I curled my fingers into his shoulders, my back arching off the mattress as his touch lit me up from the inside out. The tension built slowly, like a rising tide. Neither of us tried to rush things. We held each other, breathed each other in, and let the moment carry us.
Finally, when I wasn’t sure I could take much more, he broke contact. “Let me get a condom.”
The reality of what we were about to do washed over me. This was my last chance to back down. Garner climbed back on the bed, the foil packet in hand. I took it from him, ripped it open, and slid the condom down his thick, hard shaft.
When he finally slid into me, I felt it everywhere. Not only in my body, but deep in my heart. Like something had finally locked into place.
We moved together, slowly at first. His forehead rested against mine, and both of us were quiet except for the sound of skin on skin.
Then his rhythm deepened. Our hands tangled.
My body met his with every thrust, aching for more, needing everything he gave me and everything he didn’t say.
It wasn’t just sex. This was something we’d been building toward for years.
When the pressure coiled so tight that I couldn’t breathe, I gasped his name as I hovered on the edge.
“That’s it, baby girl. Come for me, Liv.”
My fingernails dug into his shoulders as I shattered underneath him.
He followed right after, with a groan that sounded like a surrender, his arms tightening around me like he could hold the world together if he squeezed me hard enough.
We stayed like that for a long beat, our breath mingling, our bodies locked together. Then he rolled me over, so my cheek rested on his chest while his cock stayed buried inside me. I didn’t want the moment to end.
One hand skimmed over my shoulder, the other brushed my hair away from my face. Minutes passed. Maybe more. Time didn’t matter.
Finally, he shifted enough to kiss the top of my head. “You okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
I nodded. “Better than okay.”
“Me too.” He let out a breath and eased out of me. “I’ll be right back.”
I pulled the blanket up around my shoulders and snuggled into his pillow while he took care of the condom. My body still tingled everywhere.
When he came back, he climbed into bed and tucked me against his side. “Are you cold?”
I shook my head and traced the familiar patterns of the tattoos on his chest. "Garner?”
"Hmm?"
I propped myself up on an elbow and stared into his eyes while I tried to summon the courage I needed. "I care about you. More than pretending. More than?—"
His soft chuckle, low and relieved, cut me off. His lips found mine in a sweet, languid kiss, stealing whatever words I'd been planning on saying.
"Get some sleep," he murmured against my mouth, his voice a delicious rumble that vibrated through my chest.
I wanted to finish what I was trying to say, but exhaustion was already pulling at my limbs. I nestled against him, my head finding that perfect spot between his shoulder and chest. His heartbeat was strong and steady underneath my ear, and I let it lull me to sleep.
We’d forgotten to pull the shades last night, and bright morning light streamed through the gauzy curtains, casting golden patterns across the bed.
I blinked awake slowly, awareness creeping in alongside the warmth of tangled limbs.
Garner's arm was heavy across my waist, one of his legs pressed between mine.
His breathing was deep and even against my neck.
For a moment, I absorbed the sensation of being held by him, surrounded by his scent and warmth. It felt like home. Like the place I was always supposed to be.
I shifted slightly, turning in his arms to look at his face.
Sleep softened his features, making him look younger, reminding me of the boy I’d fallen for back in high school.
His dark lashes rested against his cheeks, his full lips slightly parted.
Without thinking, I reached up to trace the line of his jaw with my fingertip.
His eyes fluttered open, focusing slowly on my face. For one heartbeat, there was nothing but sleepy affection in his gaze. Then, like a curtain falling, something shuttered behind his eyes.
"Morning," he said, his voice rough with sleep as he pulled away slightly, creating space between us.
"Good morning," I whispered back, suddenly unsure. Maybe I’d imagined the closeness we’d shared last night, and the way he'd looked at me like I meant everything.
He sat up, running a hand through his messed-up hair. "Breakfast probably already started downstairs."
"Garner—" I started as I reached for him.
"I should grab a quick shower." He slid out of bed, disappearing into the bathroom without looking back.
I sat there, sheet clutched to my chest, shocked and chilled to the bone. Last night had been... everything. Perfect. The culmination of years of secret longing and friendship transformed into something deeper. At least, that's what it had been for me.
The shower started running, and I forced myself to move.
I picked up our pajamas from the floor and tossed them on the bed, my stomach twisting as I remembered how it had felt tugging Garner’s sweats off right before we…
I stopped myself from going there and snapped the rubber band against my wrist…
once, twice, three times. The sharp little sting grounded me.
By the time Garner emerged from the bathroom, dressed in jeans and a fresh t-shirt, his hair damp and his expression neutral, I'd composed myself.
"Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready for breakfast." I brushed past him toward the bathroom, forcing a smile like my heart wasn't cracking in my chest.
When I came out, showered, dressed, and determined not to crack, I shoved my feet into my shoes and picked up my purse. “Ready?”
He nodded, grabbing his wallet and room key. "Let's go."
The walk to the dining room was silent, a chasm opening between us with each step.
When had it become so difficult to talk to Garner?
This was the man who'd held my hair back when I'd had too much wine at Ruby’s birthday last year.
The man who knew exactly how I liked my coffee and what true crime podcasts gave me nightmares.
The man who, only hours ago, had whispered my name like a prayer as our bodies moved together.
Now he might as well have been a stranger.
At breakfast, he was polite but distant, answering direct questions but offering nothing more. He refilled my coffee without asking, a gesture so familiar it made my throat tight.
"Today's final relationship-building activity will focus on trust and boundaries," Serena announced. "We'll be working with comfort zones and intimate communication."
Garner's jaw tightened. I stabbed at my eggs with more force than necessary.
"Is everything okay?" asked the woman seated next to me. She and her husband were from Bozeman and had been married for ten years.
"Fine," I said, forcing a smile. "I’m not really a morning person."
She nodded. "The beds here are so comfortable, it's hard to get up. Though I imagine you two didn't get much sleep."
Heat flooded my face, and I let out an awkward laugh. "Um, well?—"