18. OLIVIA
CHAPTER 18
OLIVIA
The knock at my door is so soft that I almost miss it, buried as I am in the pages of a mystery novel. I glance at the clock on my bedside table. Nearly midnight. My heart skips for reasons I can’t quite name. Setting the book down, I get up and open the door.
Marcus stands there, looking like he just stepped out of a storm, his hair slightly disheveled, a pensive look on his face.
"Marcus?" I whisper, clutching the door. "What are you doing here? It’s late."
He doesn’t say a word. I look down at myself, realizing I’m still wearing my flimsy nightgown. I fold my arms over my chest. “Sorry, I’m not too presentable at the moment.”
Again no reply. Instead, he steps inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
“Marcus?” I say again, but this time it’s softer, more uncertain. He still doesn’t answer. Instead, his hands cup my face, and his lips crash into mine before I can process what’s happening.
It’s not a tentative kiss. It’s full of urgency, heat and I feel myself getting wet immediately, my pussy walls clenching together.
The kiss deepens, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, claiming, coaxing, until I’m lost in it. A soft moan escapes me, and that seems to spur him on. His hands slide down my sides, resting on my hips, pulling me closer. I can feel the hard planes of his body against mine, and it ignites something primal inside me.
“Marcus,” I manage to murmur when we pull apart for breath, my lips tingling. “What are we doing?”
But his lips find the curve of my neck, trailing hot kisses down to my collarbone, and my thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind. I don’t care what we’re doing. I just don’t want him to stop.
His hands find the hem of my night dress, tugging it upward. I lift my arms, letting him pull it off. The cool air of the room meets my bare skin, and I shiver, but it’s his heated gaze that sends a rush of warmth through me.
“God, Olivia,” he murmurs, his voice rough as his eyes rake over me. The way he says my name makes my knees weak.
I’m suddenly hyperaware of everything—his touch, his breath, the way his hands trace the curve of my waist. My own hands are clumsy but determined as I work on the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel his skin against mine.
When his shirt falls to the floor, my fingers explore the hard muscles of his chest, his skin warm under my touch. He groans softly, capturing my mouth again in a kiss that makes my toes curl.
We stumble backward toward the bed, his hands never leaving me, and I don’t care about anything else in the world except this—except him.
When the backs of my knees hit the mattress, he lays me down gently, his body following mine.
And then without preempt, he enters me. I’m all ready for him.
His hands are on my thighs, holding me in place as he thrusts into me with a steady, consuming intensity. I gasp, clutching at his arms.
“Marcus,” I whisper, his name tumbling from my lips like a prayer. He leans down, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that sends shockwaves through me, deep and searing. His hand slides up my body, cupping my breast, kneading it gently as his mouth trails kisses along my jawline and neck.
My mouth opens, my eyes fluttering shut at the intensity of pleasure. When I open my eyes, it’s no longer Marcus’s face hovering above mine—it’s Jax.
His eyes burn into me, a fire there that sends a jolt straight to my core.
“Jax what are you?—"
His movements are rougher now, more demanding as he pins my wrists above my head. I gasp, my body responding to him in a way I can’t control, the tension in me coiling tighter and tighter.
“You feel so good,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly.
“I thought we wouldn’t do this again. What would Heaher?—”
“It was your decision to stay away, not mine. And my sister will be happy to see me happy.”
His teeth graze the sensitive spot on my collarbone, and my hips rise to meet his in a desperate, matching rhythm. The air between us is electric, his touch sending sparks everywhere he lingers.
Jax flips me over, his hands gripping my hips as he pulls me back toward him. The angle sends a shiver down my spine, and I cry out as the sensations overwhelm me. But just as I reach out to steady myself, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror across the room—and it’s not Jax behind me anymore.
It’s Ethan.
My heart stutters, and I gasp as his hands slide around my waist, pulling me upright. “Olivia,” he says, his voice breathless yet commanding, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. My skin tingles where he touches me, his body pressed against mine from behind as he drives into me with a force that leaves me trembling.
Ethan turns me around, his hands cupping my face as he kisses me with a fervor that makes my knees weak. His eyes meet mine, dark and intense, and I feel like I’m drowning in them. “You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice rough and possessive, sending me spiraling.
The pressure builds and I shatter, the pleasure ripping through me, wave after wave, my cries echoing in the dreamscape around me.
And then I wake up.
My chest is heaving, the sheets are tangled around me, and my skin is damp with sweat. My hand flies to my forehead as I sit up, blinking into the darkness of my room. My heart is racing, and my body still tingles from the dream.
“What the hell was that?” I whisper to myself, running a hand through my hair. My pulse pounds in my ears as the images from the dream linger, vivid and unrelenting. Marcus, Jax, Ethan. All of them, in their own way, consuming me.
I fall back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling as realization washes over me. Who was I even dreaming about? One of them? All of them? The thought sends a shiver through me. This can’t be happening.
I drag myself out of bed, the remnants of my dream clinging to me like cobwebs I can’t shake off. My cheeks burn as I splash cold water on my face, trying to cool the heat that keeps rising at the memory. Marcus. Jax. Ethan. All of them. It was too much. It is too much.
I hate this.
Pulling on a loose, oversized sweater and jeans, I try to shake off the confusion that’s twisting my thoughts. I’m a grown woman. I’ve built a career from scratch and survived the competitive hellscape of the tech industry, and yet here I am.
My phone vibrates on the counter, Heather’s name flashing across the screen for what feels like the hundredth time. I sigh, ignoring it again. Ever since the episode with Ethan aired, she’s been relentless. “That chemistry was practically illegal,” she’d said in one of her texts. “I’m already obsessed. What’s going on with you two?”
If only it were that simple.
I decide to take a walk to clear my head.
The street is already buzzing with life—coffee shops filling with early risers, joggers weaving through pedestrians, and shop owners setting up for the day. Normally, the hum of the city grounds me. Today, it feels like static.
I replay the events of the past few weeks in my head—everything that happened between me and them.
It all loops like a movie I can’t turn off. And the worst part? I can’t make sense of what I feel for any of them.
Am I falling for one of them? All of them?
I grab my regular coffee order before taking off, checking my phone while I walk.
My phone buzzes again—another text from Heather.
Heather: “Are you seriously ignoring me? Spill the tea, Chase. You and Ethan were basically eye-fucking on screen. Tell me EVERYTHING.”
I groan internally.
Since the episode aired, fans have paid us overwhelming attention. People are already shipping us—Ethan and me, Jax and me, and Marcus. The comments are insane, and while a part of me should feel flattered, I just feel… lost.
I scroll through a few of the fan reactions, my eyes catching phrases like "ultimate chemistry" and "Love Lab’s best couple yet." My stomach churns. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the love from the audience, but they don’t know what’s really going on.
My thoughts are a tangled mess, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t make sense of the situation I’ve found myself in. Ethan. Jax. Marcus. What the hell have I done?
And worse, I can’t stop thinking about them—each of them—like some kind of unhinged soap opera playing on repeat in my head.
What happens when they piece it together?
I run my fingers through my hair, tugging lightly as if the motion will somehow clear my scrambled thoughts. I can’t keep avoiding this. They deserve the truth. I have to tell them.
Draining the last of my latte, I head to Ethan’s apartment. We’re supposed to be having a meeting today. It’s time to strategize and plan what we’re going to do now that Charlie Green had put her foot down.
By the time I reach his door, my heart is racing. I knock twice, taking a deep breath to steady myself.
The door swings open, but it’s not Ethan standing there.
“Marcus?” I say, startled.
He looks just as surprised to see me. “Olivia. I wasn’t expecting you.”
I shift awkwardly on my feet, trying to decide how to begin. “Is Ethan here?”
“No, he’s out. Grocery run,” Marcus says, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes are fixed on me, studying me in a way that makes my pulse quicken.
I hesitate, the words I’ve been rehearsing stuck in my throat. Marcus notices, his expression softening as he steps aside.
“You weren’t supposed to be so early,” Marcus says.
“Yeah, I know,” I reply, already feeling a little defensive.
Marcus tilts his head, studying me with a suspicious glint in his eye. “Are you sure you didn’t just want to be alone with Ethan?”
I blink, caught completely off guard. “What makes you say that?”
He shrugs, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “It can’t be more obvious that you like him. You can’t keep your eyes off him when you’re together. Or maybe it’s Jax. Honestly, I’m starting to lose track of who you’re leaning toward more.”
“That’s not true,” I shoot back, my voice sharper than I intend. Heat rises to my cheeks as I cross my arms, mirroring his stance.
Marcus steps closer, his expression softening but his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath hitch. “You’re lying,” he says quietly, his voice low and sure.
I open my mouth to protest, but the words don’t come. He’s too close now, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off him. My heart starts to pound, and I take an instinctive step back, but he follows, closing the distance until there’s nowhere left to retreat.
“But they aren’t the only ones who like you.”
“Marcus—”
He takes another step towards me. “I want you to see me.”
“I want you to…consider me as well,” he murmurs, the words a soft plea that reverberates through me.
Before I can respond, his lips are on mine, urgent and demanding. I freeze for a split second, caught off guard, but the heat of his kiss melts away my hesitation. His hands frame my face, pulling me closer as his mouth moves over mine with a hunger that leaves me breathless.
“Marcus,” I breathe, my voice shaky. I look up at him, my hands still clutching his shirt. His eyes are dark, filled with an emotion I can’t quite name but that makes my heart race all the same.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Exactly what I’ve been wanting to do,” he says, his voice steady, his gaze unflinching. “You deserve to know how I feel, Olivia. I’m not going to stand on the sidelines while you get pulled in different directions. I care about you, and I’m not afraid to show it.”
Marcus’s lips are back on mine before I can think of what to say, his hands gripping my waist as he presses me against the wall. My fingers tangle in his shirt, my breath hitching as his kiss deepens, searing and possessive.
But then the door swings open.
“What the hell?” Jax’s voice cuts through the haze like a cold wind, and I jerk away from Marcus, my face burning.