Chapter 5 #2
Even so, I barely heard what the others talked about for the rest of the meeting.
I stared at their faces, at their mouths moving, as I tried not to look at Oliver.
Even with the fresh air streaming in, I caught whiffs of him.
He must have been using some kind of perfume.
Nobody smelled like this naturally. Maybe I could make it a town hall policy—no artificial fragrances in the town’s official buildings.
People have allergies, right? Bears did not, but we had people living in Beauville who could be allergic.
“I’m not saying we need to review the zoning,” Oliver said, bringing me back to the present. “I only want to have a look at it.”
“We’re too small to justify employing a planning and zoning officer,” Jesse told him.
“And I’m not saying we should.”
“Why shouldn’t Ollie have a look?” Chickie said. Oliver glared at him, and Chickie shrugged innocently.
“We haven’t had any new businesses start up here in years.” For some reason, Jesse sounded defensive.
I was about to speak up, but Oliver was faster. “When I showed you the draft of the economic strategy, you liked the ideas I presented, right?”
Morris, Monty, and Jesse all mumbled in acknowledgment.
“I’ve been updating it as I’m learning more about how it works here.” He made a circle in the air with one hand, and something in his tone suggested he wasn’t happy about how things worked here . Huh. I wouldn’t have guessed Oliver would stir shit on his first day at work.
“When were the zones last reviewed?” he pushed.
Pursing his lips, Jesse looked at me.
“They weren’t,” I said. “There was no need.”
“How old are the town plans, then?”
I exhaled through my nose. He wouldn’t like my reply. “Mid-eighties, I think.”
Oliver’s eyes glittered, but his expression remained carefully neutral. “I suggest consulting a zoning expert.”
“We don’t have the money for that,” Jesse argued.
“We’ll never have any unless Beauville is allowed to grow,” Oliver replied.
“It’s only your first day…”
Whatever Jesse was about to say couldn’t land well.
“Oliver,” I interrupted. “Find someone competent and ask for a quote for a short, introductory consultation. I also want to know what specific benefits the update would bring. We’ll talk about it more next Monday.”
He lifted his chin, a clear challenge in his gaze. “Thank you.” His tone was only a tad indignant. Damn, he looked beautiful when he was on a roll.
Then my eyes fell on Chickie, and I cringed.
My friend was staring at me with one eyebrow raised, his arms folded across his chest. Did he notice something weird in my behavior toward his son?
Shit.
I quickly studied my screen. There was nothing on it, just my desktop with a mess of icons. “Okay. If that’s all, how about we wrap up for today?”
Oliver was the first one out. I exhaled with relief when he left the room. Chickie put his hat back on and gave me another strange look.
“The boy sure moves fast,” Jesse grumbled when both father and son were out of earshot.
I closed my laptop and stood. “Maybe we move too slowly.”
In the afternoon, Oliver knocked on the door to my office. “Can we talk?”
My first instinct was to say no, but I worked with the man, dammit. At least the window was open. “Come in.”
He closed the door and took a couple of steps into the room. “You look terrified of me.”
“No!” I blurted.
Oliver raised his eyebrows. “I think it’s time we address some things.”
Oh hell, no. Please, no. I wanted to hide under my desk and pretend I’d never seen Oliver in sheer turquoise lace.
“Look, I put you in an extremely awkward position,” Oliver said, sounding steady, and I was ashamed of my own weakness. “Back then, after my birthday party,” he clarified.
“I know what you mean,” I hurried to say before he could elaborate.
He lifted his chin and squared his shoulders.
With me sitting at my desk and him standing in front of it, he looked like a schoolboy in a principal’s office.
Except between the two of us, he seemed to be the mature one.
I would have stood up, but I didn’t want to move closer to him in case I smelled him again.
“My behavior was selfish and reckless,” he said, “and my apology is long overdue.”
“It’s okay, Oliver. It’s been years.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Yet you do your best to avoid me.”
I hung my head. I had nothing to say to that. He was right.
“We’ll be working closely together,” Oliver continued, “and I’ll need you on my side with the council.”
“Of course. As long as I agree with you.”
That smirk. It should be illegal.
“Have you read the strategy I suggested?” he asked. “I’ve made a few updates since I first showed it to Jesse and the others.”
“I haven’t yet, no.”
“I’ll email you the updated version right away.” He swiped his phone open, and after a few finger movements, it made a soft swoosh . “Read it, please. I’m curious what you think.”
“I will.”
“Great. Thank you for giving me a chance, Frey. I’m excited to be home and working for Beauville.”
“Great,” I parroted. “We’re happy to have you.”
A bright smile, and he was out the door.
I slumped in my chair and sniffed the air. There it was. Vanilla, butter, and something… This couldn’t be real! Was he a fucking fairy that sprang from a flower every morning?
A smart man would have turned around and stuck his head out the window. I wasn’t smart. I closed my eyes and breathed.
Lord Almighty.
What if it wasn’t a perfume? What if it was just…
Oliver .
It burned, everywhere. In my lungs, my stomach, in my muscles. Every part of me was on fire. Yet it didn’t hurt, not at all. Lust burned like whiskey, decadent and rich, the kind of torment that left you craving more.
My heart pounding and dick throbbing, I shot up from my chair and barged into the bathroom.
It was my lowest moment. If I had ever been ashamed of the attraction I harbored toward my best friend’s youngest son, it was nothing compared to the shame I’d carry after jerking off to the image of him smirking at me in my office.
But shame would come later. Now, I could only focus on the scorching lust.
I flipped the lock on the door. The furnishings in the Beauville town hall were modest, but at least I had my own bathroom with a toilet and a sink.
Unable to take another step, I leaned my forehead on the door and took my cock out.
Fucking hell, it looked nearly purple. The veins on it seemed to throb. I squeezed it in my hand and let out a grunt before biting my tongue. I had to be quiet.
I wouldn’t think of Oliver in lace, no. But today, I’d gotten a glimpse of the outline of his nipples under his white shirt.
The tip of his tongue had peeked out as he licked his lips and glanced at me through his lashes.
I imagined his parted mouth nearing my cockhead, his tongue flicking against my slit.
I spat into my palm and stroked up and down.
Oliver’s lips wrap around my girth. His eyes are wide, gazing up at me, his nostrils flare as he struggles to breathe.
He kisses my cock and lies back, spreading his legs.
“I’ll go into heat for you.”
He’s wearing lace, sheer turquoise lace, and his cock is hard under the see-through material.
No, dammit. Not again.
But the man in my fantasy isn’t a gawky youth. He’s the Oliver I know now, sexy and dangerous.
He runs his hand over the fabric, then rolls slowly to his stomach, tilting his hips up. His crease is bare where the lace parts over his ass cheeks. Those panties are fucking obscene.
He palms one impeccable ass cheek and pulls it aside.
His hole is a tiny pink star, dry and unused. Virginal.
“I want to give myself to you.”
My cum lands on his skin, streaking the gorgeous bud, and Oliver moans as if it gives him pleasure too.
I bit my fist when I came. Panting, I watched my cum drip down the door.
God, how pathetic was I?