Chapter Twenty
Lark
I smiled as I marked another tally on the clipboard. “Twenty-three.” I leaned over and counted the next stack of heavy cream. “Twenty-four... twenty-five...”
The cooler hummed around me, cold enough that I could see the faintest puff of my breath every now and then.
At least I’d gotten the freezer over with first. Ever had wanted to do rock-paper-scissors to decide who got inventory duty.
I’d lost, naturally. “So unfair,” I muttered, making another mark.
The cooler door opened behind me and I glanced over my shoulder. Oliver stepped inside, immediately pulling the door closed behind him.
The corners of my mouth lifted. “Worried about me in here?”
His eyes traveled over me before a small smile appeared. “I waited until you were out of the freezer.”
I laughed, tapping my pen against the clipboard. “I always do that first.”
“Yeah?”
“Then I get to warm up in here.”
“Smart.”
“I have my moments.”
He leaned one shoulder against the steel racking and crossed his arms. Then he just watched me.
“What?” I asked, reaching for another carton.
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I know.”
“You planning on helping?”
“I wasn’t invited.”
“You could’ve volunteered.”
“I could’ve.”
“But?”
“I’d rather watch you.”
Heat crept into my cheeks. “You’re ridiculous.”
“So I’ve been told.”
I shook my head, smiling to myself as I moved farther down the shelf. “Twenty-six...” Another mark. “Twenty-seven...” I worked my way down until I reached the section where Oliver was standing.
He didn’t move and I stopped directly in front of him.
The clipboard rested against my hip. “You know...”
“What?”
“I don’t think your daddy was a glass maker.”
One eyebrow lifted. “No?”
I smiled. “I can’t see through you.”
A quiet chuckle escaped him. Before I could say anything else, one of his hands settled on my waist and the other reached for the clipboard. “What are you—”
He plucked it from my hands and set it on the shelf beside us. “There.”
“Oliver...”
His other hand found my waist, and with one gentle tug, he pulled me flush against him.
“I don’t think this is part of the inventory,” I whispered, resting my palms against his chest.
“Break time.”
“Oh yeah?” I smiled up at him. “Where did this come from?”
He leaned down and brushed his lips across mine.
The kiss was light. Almost teasing. When he pulled back, he stayed close enough that I could feel his breath against my lips. “Missed you.”
A laugh escaped me. “I was literally twenty feet away, Ollie.”
Something changed in his eyes. “What?”
“You’re the only one who calls me that.”
“I know.”
“I like it.”
“I like that you like it.” I rose onto my toes and kissed him again. A little longer this time. When I pulled back, I smiled. “You’re my Ollie.”
His expression softened in a way that still surprised me every time I saw it.
Then, with slow, deliberate movements, he turned us until my back rested lightly against the cooler door.
His hands stayed on my waist and mine slid up to the back of his neck.
The next kiss wasn’t rushed. It was deeper. Warmer. Somehow the chilly air around us only made the heat between us feel stronger.
I smiled against his mouth. “You really did miss me.”
“I did.”
“It was twenty feet.”
“It was twenty feet too far.”
I laughed quietly before kissing him again.
My fingers slipped into the hair at the back of his neck, and his hands traced slow circles along my sides, making me shiver for a reason that had nothing to do with the cooler.
When we finally came up for air, I rested my forehead against his. “Can I ask you something?”
“You usually do.”
“Do you actually like me calling you Ollie?”
His answer came without hesitation. “I like it when you say it. I like being your Ollie.”
My heart completely forgot how to function. I stared at him. “You...”
“I know what I said.”
“And?”
“And I meant it.”
I reached up and cupped his face. “I really like hearing you say things like that.”
His smile was small. Private. Mine. “I know.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’ve gotten awfully confident.”
“You keep kissing me. I must be doing something right.”
“That’s because you’re kissable.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“Oh, will you?”
“I plan to.”
I kissed him again.
The world outside the cooler disappeared. There was only him.
The metal door bit cold and hard through my thin work shirt, but I barely felt it. Oliver’s body was furnace-warm, pressed flush against mine, his thigh sliding between my legs as his mouth found the hollow beneath my ear. I shivered, and he laughed, low and knowing, his breath hot against my skin.
“Cold?” he murmured.
“Not with you pressed up against me.”
His hands dropped to my hips, and his thumbs hooked into the waistband of my pants.
I reached for the hem of his shirt, pushing it up, needing to feel him.
My palms flattened against the hard planes of his stomach, and his muscles twitched beneath my touch.
My eyes tried to take in all of his tattoos—roses and thorns, a snake coiled over his heart, script I couldn’t read in the dim fluorescence.
I traced a raven with my fingertips, and he caught his breath, his hips pressing harder into mine.
“Your shirt,” I breathed.
He pulled it over his head in one rough motion, and I looked my fill. The tattoos didn’t stop at his chest—they swept down his ribs, disappeared into the low line of his jeans, reemerged along his arms. He was a story written in black ink, and I wanted to read every word with my mouth.
“Your turn,” he said, and his fingers were already working my button, the zipper, and then shoving the fabric down my hips.
I kicked off my shoes, stepped out of my pants, and the concrete bit into my bare feet.
He lifted me like I weighed nothing, my legs wrapped his waist, and I felt the hard line of him through his jeans, pressed exactly where I ached.
“Oliver—”
He set me back against the door, one arm braced beside my head, the other yanking his own zipper down.
I helped him, frantic, my hands shaking as I pushed the denim past his hips.
Then there was only skin, heat, and the unbearable closeness of him as he guided himself to me and sank in with a slow, perfect pressure that made my head fall back against the metal.
“Look at me,” he growled.
I did. His eyes were dark, his jaw tight, and sweat beaded along his temples despite the chill.
He started to move, and I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders, feeling the shift of inked muscle beneath my palms. Each stroke drove the breath from me, my body tightening around him, the sound of our collision lost in the cooler’s hum.
I moaned, unable to stop it, and he answered with a ragged sound of his own, his forehead dropping to mine.
“You’re so loud,” he panted, but he was smiling, wicked and wild. “They’ll hear you out there.”
“Don’t care.” I pulled him deeper, my heels digging into his back. “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.”
He didn’t. His rhythm built, relentless, the door rattling against its frame with each thrust. I was panting, gasping, the cold air burning my lungs while everywhere else I burned for him.
The pressure spiraled higher, tighter, his name breaking from me again and again like a prayer.
When he shifted his angle, he hit something perfect and devastating inside me, and I shattered.
My cry echoed off the concrete walls, my body clenching around him in waves that tore through me like lightning.
He followed. Two more hard, deep strokes, and he buried his face in my neck, groaning long and low against my skin as he spilled inside me.
His whole body shuddered through the release.
We stayed like that, trembling, breathing, wishing the world would stay gone.
The cooler hummed. Somewhere, a compressor clicked on.
I held him, and he held me, and for a long moment, nothing else existed.
“Wowzah,” I whispered when I could muster up any thoughts.
Oliver chuckled and pressed a kiss to my temple. “I hope that is high praise from you.”
I closed my eyes. “The highest of praise. That was the only word I could think of.” Oliver had officially scrambled my brain, and I hoped he did it over and over forever.
“We should probably get dressed.”
I opened my eyes and remembered that we were in the work cooler with Ever and Jude less than twenty feet away. I knew I did some crazy things, but this was at the top of the list. “You know when you said I don’t look before I leap?”
Oliver chuckled.
“I think you might be right, Ollie.” I loosened my legs from around him, and he lowered me till my feet hit the cold concrete. “How about we race to see who can get dressed the fastest?”
He pressed a kiss to my lips and then stepped back. He yanked his pants and smiled at me. “I think I’ll win.”
I gasped and looked for my pants. I managed to dress quickly, but Oliver still beat me since he didn’t have to take his shoes off.
He brushed an imaginary speck of dust off my shoulder before gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His hand lingered against my cheek and I leaned into it without thinking. “I should probably finish inventory.”
Oliver chuckled. “I’ll try to keep my hands to myself.”
I picked up the clipboard just as the cooler door swung open.
Ever stepped inside and her gaze landed on me. Then Oliver. Then back to me.
One corner of her mouth twitched. “Counts okay?”
I looked down at the clipboard like I’d been studying it the entire time. “Yep.” I flipped a page. “Everything looks good.” I pointed toward one of the shelves. “We should probably order another case of heavy whipping cream.” I scanned another note. “And maybe two more caramel sauces.”
“Perfect.” Ever nodded. “The bell just rang.” She smiled knowingly. “You’re done just in time for customers.” Without another word, she walked back out, leaving the cooler door propped open behind her.
I waited until I heard her footsteps disappear.
Then I looked at Oliver. For one whole second, we stared at each other. Then I burst out laughing.
“‘Done just in time,’” I repeated between laughs.
Oliver’s mouth curved into a grin.
He stepped closer and slipped his arms around my waist again. “Can you imagine if she’d walked in five minutes earlier?”
I laughed even harder. “She would’ve gotten quite the surprise.”
His grin widened. “She would’ve gotten an eyeful, baby.”
I buried my face against his chest, laughing until my sides hurt.
When I finally looked back up, he brushed a kiss across my forehead. Then another across my lips.
Soft. Sweet.
I smiled into the kiss before taking his hand. “Come on. Break time is over.”