5. Olivia
Olivia
The moment I spotted Brett across the design expo floor, I knew my day was about to take a nosedive. Of course, he was here. He seemed to be everywhere I turned.
“Olivia,” his deep voice slid over my skin like warm whiskey—smooth, with just enough burn to make me grit my teeth. “Fancy meeting you here.”
I kept my expression neutral. “I’m sure you knew I would be here,” I accused. “Are you stalking me?”
A smirk twitched at his lips, but he held up a manila folder. “Relax. I’m here on business. Yes, I figured you might be here. I’ve got some documents that need your signature.”
I sighed, scanning the expo’s layout for an escape route. Nothing. There were just endless booths and too many people who would notice if I caused a scene. “Fine. Let’s find somewhere quieter.”
He led me to a sitting area near a grand stone fireplace, its golden flames flickering over the rich leather furniture. I perched on the edge of a chair, arms crossed, waiting for him to reach the point.
“This,” Brett said, sliding the papers toward me, “is the final contract between Gateway Property Solutions and Maven & Moss Interior Design. As you can see, both our lawyers have already signed. All I need is your signature to make it binding.”
“You could have emailed them. There’s this cool new thing called e-sign.”
His lips curved. “Where’s the fun in that?”
I rolled my eyes and flipped through the pages, trying to ignore how his scent—something warm and clean, like cedar and arrogance—wrapped around me.
“Pen?” I asked, holding out a hand.
Brett reached into his jacket, the movement drawing my gaze to his broad shoulders. He pulled out a sleek black pen and placed it in my palm, his fingers grazing mine. A stupid little shiver ran up my spine, and I did my best to ignore it.
As I signed, he watched me. Not in the polite, businesslike way, but in the way that said he was remembering things I had spent years trying to forget.
I capped the pen with unnecessary force. “Anything else, or can I get back to my day?”
“That’s it,” Brett said easily, but he didn’t move. “So, how’s life, Olivia?”
I shot him a withering look. “Just dandy fine, and you?”
“Yeah?” He leaned back, draping an arm over the chair’s backrest like he had all the time in the world. “Because last time I checked, you worked eighty-hour weeks to impress your boss. Sounds exhausting.”
“Better than being a professional playboy with a real estate empire.” I couldn’t help myself. Brett chuckled, low and knowing. “You think about me often?”
“Only when I need a reminder of what I don’t want.”
He whistled. “That bad, huh?”
I glared. “You walked out on me, Brett. You don’t get to sit here smugly and act like we’re old friends.”
His smirk faded. “I know, and I’m sorry. I truly am.”
I blinked. Brett Collins was never one to apologize. Ever.
I crossed my arms. “Put it in writing, and I’ll frame it.”
“Dammit, Olivia.” He shook his head, running a hand through his dark hair. “You’re still this mad, or do you just like giving me a hard time?”
“Both.”
Silence stretched between us, and the fire crackled. Someone laughed nearby, and Brett’s gaze darkened. I hated how my stomach flipped when his gaze settled on mine.
“I regret it,” he admitted.
I snorted. “Regret what? Leaving or that I didn’t chase after you like an idiot?”
“Both.”
“Well,” I said, standing, “good thing I moved on then.”
I turned to go, but his hand gripped my wrist. Heat flared where he touched me. “Liv.”
“Don’t call me that,” I warned him.
His eyes locked onto mine, and something dangerous simmered there. And then, just like that, he yanked me forward and crashed his lips onto mine.
It wasn’t soft or gentle. It was a goddamn storm, stealing the air from my lungs and dragging me under.
For a second—just a split second—I forgot every reason I hated him.
I forgot how he left and made me feel like I wasn’t enough.
I forgot everything but the way his mouth moved against mine—hungrily, tantalizing, and incredibly sinful.
Then reality slammed me back into place.
I tore away and slapped him. Hard.
Brett didn’t flinch. Instead, he grinned, the cocky bastard, his fingers touching the spot where my palm had landed. “At least I know I still have the same effect on you.”
My mouth fell open. “You—you?—”
“Me.” He winked and stepped back, hands in his pockets, smug as hell. “See you around, Olivia.”
And with that, he walked away, leaving me furious, breathless, and far too rattled for my own sanity.
The second I walked into my condo, Mystic launched herself at my leg like a tiny black assassin. I scooped her up before she could shred my tights, groaning, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
She purred in response, totally unfazed by my bad mood. I gave her some cuddles until she struggled to get away.
I fed Mystic before she tripped me because I knew it was the only way to get her to stop winding through my legs. I tossed my bag onto the sleek marble counter, then yanked open the fridge. Wine! I needed some wine.
The meeting with Brett had been an absolute disaster. Working with him was like trying to design a house with a wrecking ball swinging through it. Every word out of his mouth had been smooth, calculated, and laced with that damn smirk I used to fall for.
I slammed the fridge shut, scaring Mystic away from her bowl.
“Sorry, sweetie! He’s insufferable and arrogant. Unbearably—” I cut myself off, teeth grinding.
A knock at the door saved me from spiraling further.
Fiona stood holding a bottle of wine, so I let her in, and she stepped inside, unwrapping her scarf with a knowing look. “Wine?”
“It’s like you saw into my mind.” I took it from her and proceeded to open it immediately.
She held out the pizza that was in her other hand. “Are you going to gorge on this too?”
I scoffed, shoving a wine glass into her hand. “I’ve had a particularly bad day. Correction, week!”
“I know. Ten guesses what this is about, and the first nine don’t count.” She carried the pizza and wine into the kitchen, setting two slices on the plates I had waiting on the counter. I trailed behind her.
“He’s like an irritating song stuck on repeat. I can’t work with him without wanting to throw him out a window.”
She settled onto the couch, Mystic curling up beside her. “You mean you can’t work with him without remembering how much you used to love him.”
I nearly choked on my sip of wine. “Love? Please. That ship sailed a long time ago.”
Fiona raised a brow. “So, the fire-breathing rant isn’t personal—just professional frustration?”
I crossed my arms. “Exactly.”
“Right. Because you always get this worked up over clients.”
I narrowed my eyes. “He’s not a client. He’s an egotistical billionaire with an agenda.”
“And great abs. Don’t forget the great abs.”
I groaned. “Fiona! I’m being serious here.”
She grinned, sipping her wine. “You used to have it bad for him. I remember when you’d ditch me to meet him at that crappy pizza place—what was it called? Slices?”
I flopped onto the couch beside her. “It was the best pizza in town.”
“Uh-huh. And he was good in bed.”
I pointed a warning finger at her. “Don’t you dare go there.”
“Oh, I’m going to. You had that love-struck look. It was disgusting.”
I rolled my eyes, sinking into the cushions. “It was college, and he was fun.”
Fiona tilted her head. “And now?”
“Now, he’s a complication I don’t need.”
She studied me, and I could feel the gears turning in her sharp mind. “You sure you’re over him because your level of outrage says otherwise.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Trust me. I’ve been over Brett since the night he walked out of my dorm without so much as a backward glance.”
“Mmm.” I knew she was remembering the countless nights of me crying on her shoulder just like I was, but she said nothing. “So, you won’t mind working closely with him? Seeing him at meetings? Watching him saunter around, all tall, dark, and?—”
I held up a hand. “If you say ‘handsome,’ I will smack you!”
She smirked. “Just checking.”
I grabbed the remote and turned on a movie, desperate for a distraction. “Let’s focus on something that isn’t my disastrous work situation, okay?”
She leaned back, swirling her wine. “Okay. But I’ll be here if you ever want to admit you’re still into him.”
I threw a pillow at her. She dodged it, laughing, and Mystic gave me a judgmental stare before curling back up against her.
The movie started, but my mind refused to quiet.
Brett Collins was nothing but trouble.
And yet, every time I tried to put him out of my mind, his face imprinted itself front and center.
After the movie, Fiona and I talked some more until she asked, “What else is going on?”
“What do you mean?”
Fiona narrowed her eyes at me. “There’s something you’re not telling me. It’s almost like something is smoldering in your eyes.” She came closer and then snapped her fingers. “That’s it! You kissed him!”
She stepped back just as I gasped. I couldn’t speak out loud.
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
I let out a heavy breath, and my shoulders slumped. “I tried not to respond, but?—”
“Oh, Olivia. Wow. Okay, it’s okay. You’ll get through this.”
“Will I? I’m mortified that my body let me respond. I should have pushed him away immediately, but it was as if my body was frozen in… “ I searched for the right word.
“Desire?” Fiona offered.
“I can’t believe I was so stupid. Now he thinks I still have a thing for him,” I ranted.
“Well, in all fairness, you do. You just haven’t admitted it to yourself yet,” Fiona reminded me.
I sighed, and Fiona hugged me. “Everything will be okay. You’ll see. Sleep it off, and everything will look better in the morning.”
“Will it?”
I wasn’t so sure.
I told myself it wouldn’t happen—no way in hell. One round with Brett Collins was more than enough for one lifetime. I wasn’t stupid enough to fall for his charm again.
And yet, as I crawled into bed, Mystic curling up beside me like my own personal gremlin, my resolve wavered.
Because it wasn’t just that I wanted Brett out of my head, it was that he was already there, setting up shop and stretching out on some mental lounge chair like he owned the damn place.
I sighed, burying my face in my pillow, willing my mind to shut down. It didn’t listen.
I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep without letting any images of him enter my mind. Soon, I drifted off to sleep, but I should have stayed away instead.
I wasn’t in my bed anymore. I was in his. And I wasn’t wearing a damn thing.
Brett’s hands were on me, rough and warm, fingers dragging down my spine as his mouth traced the column of my throat. His weight pressed against me, solid, inescapable, setting my pulse on fire.
“You’re still trying to resist me, aren’t you?” His voice was thick with amusement, lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
His laugh was deep, knowing. He gripped my hips, flipping me onto my back before pinning me beneath him. His gray-blue eyes were pure trouble, a storm brewing just for me.
“I can feel you are holding back,” he murmured, dragging his fingers up the inside of my thigh, setting every nerve-ending alight. “You still think you’re in control here?”
I should have pushed him off, thrown some witty retort at his smug face. But I didn’t. Instead, I grabbed his jaw and pulled him down, crashing my mouth to his, heat surging between us like an electrical current.
Brett groaned against my lips, a sound that shot straight to my core. His hands roamed over my body, teasing and tormenting me. He was good at this—too damn good.
He dragged his mouth down my neck, over my collarbone, nipping at my skin. “You’re still fighting me,” he murmured, his breath hot against my chest.
“I am not.”
He chuckled darkly. “Liar.”
Before I could argue, he slid lower, his mouth finding the spot that had me arching off the bed, gasping his name.
“See?” he rasped. “You never stood a chance.”
I wanted to throw something at him, but considering his head was between my legs, it didn’t seem like the most brilliant move.
And then his eyes peered up at me right along with that devilish grin.
His lips traveled up my torso and landed on the fleshy mounds that ached for his touch.
As he took one nipple in his mouth and teased it with his tongue, his hand kneaded the other one until it was stiff.
Brett used his other hand to gently graze his fingers over my lacy panties, so careful not to touch the one place I wanted him to.
His eyes held mine as he sucked one breast, rubbed the other into submission, and tormented all my heat to the surface.
He was everything to me at that moment, and I never wanted it to end. I wanted him inside me, surrounding me, touching and kissing, and making mad, passionate love to me. I was lost inside him as desire lurked under the surface.
I needed him as he needed me. I would succumb to him as I had so many times before—with everything inside my heart and soul.
When he mounted me, I clawed at his back like some sex-crazed animal, breathing his name in short gasps. “Brett, now, I need you now!”
He drove in deep, doing everything in his power to satiate my desires, and he did so with such skill. Finding our rhythm as we always did, we rocked and moved together seamlessly and with a rising hunger that only each other could fulfill.
He teased me as he pulled back, only to plunge right back in again until my hunger doubled, and I was begging him to bring me to the brink of ecstasy.
Which he did. Over and over again until there was simply no life left in my body. I lay breathing heavily, every nerve ending on fire as energy seeped out and sleep found me.
I woke up with a start, my heart hammering in my chest. Mystic, unimpressed by my sudden movement, swiped at my arm before curling back into her tiny ball of fluff.
“Unbelievable,” I hissed, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes.
This was getting out of control. Brett wasn’t supposed to have this much power over me. He wasn’t supposed to be the guy I daydreamed about, let alone the guy I couldn’t shake even when I was sound asleep.
I stared at the ceiling, willing my brain to cooperate. It was just a dream. A stupid, too-real, too-intense dream. It didn’t mean anything.
Right? Or maybe it meant everything.
Mystic let out a tiny, judgmental huff.
“Oh, shut up.”
I rolled onto my side, dragging my blanket to my chin, trying to ignore the heat lingering in my loins. This was nothing. It would pass.
It had to.
Because there was no way in hell I was getting caught up in Brett Collins again.
… Right?