Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Lucian
When the Game Gets a Whole Lot More Interesting
I’m not saying I planned this.
But I may have made sure everything fell into place.
Look—I’m not a genius when it comes to women.
My record shows I’m a fucking failure.
But I know that Olivia has been spiraling since she moved in next door.
I’m not responsible for any of that, even if she wants to blame me.
Not at all.
This isn’t about me.
This is about Olivia being in a new, strange place where everything is falling apart.
Her house? A renovation nightmare.
Her clinic? Unusable for weeks because it’s growing its own terrarium.
Her stress levels? Through the fucking roof.
She’s been pretending—hard—like she has any real control over the disaster her life has temporarily become.
Watching her micromanage the contractors resembles watching a chihuahua barking orders at a construction crew—tenacious, determined, and utterly ineffective.
It was—if I’m being honest—fucking hilarious.
But it’s also admirable because Olivia doesn’t back down easily.
She doesn’t crumble.
She fights through it, gritting her teeth and exerting control where she can, even if the situation is so far out of her hands that it’s laughable.
So yeah, maybe I told Mike she’s the boss and to listen to her.
I don’t know shit about running a clinic, or what her deadlines are, or how she’s planning to get this place back on its feet.
She needs to relax.
The woman is too tense, perpetually wound tight as if she’s bracing for an uncontrollable catastrophe.
And that?
That’s something I can fix quickly.
Distract.
Tease.
Pull her out of her head long enough for her to breathe.
Since I’m a giver, I decided to make the process fun for myself.
Cue: the hike. Okay, I sold it as a walk, but isn’t this better?
Sarah certainly thinks so.
My girl is living her best life, bounding ahead on the dirt path, tail wagging and ears flopping with every joyful bounce.
The trail winds through the hills just outside of town, shaded by towering trees, with sunlight filtering through the leaves in a way that makes it feel like we’ve stepped into a postcard.
It’s idyllic.
It’s peaceful.
It’s exactly what Olivia needs.
Which, judging by the absolute murder in her eyes, she does not agree with.
“Lucian.”
The way she says my name?
Aggravated. Exasperated.
On the verge of homicide.
It’s fucking adorable.
If you ask me, it’s the perfect way for a woman to say my name.
I glance over at her, hands in my pockets, a lazy grin curving my lips.
“Yeah, Doc?”
Her ponytail bounces with every furious step she takes.
“This is not what ‘needing fresh air and a walk’ means.”
I feign innocence.
“Really? Because you said—and I quote—’I need to get away from this disaster before I have a full-blown mental breakdown.’ And look at that—I delivered.”
She glares.
“I never said any of that.”
I tap my temple.
“You thought about it. I provided you what you really needed but were too shy to ask for.”
“You kidnapped me.”
I smirk.
“Kidnapped is such a strong word.”
“You forced me into your car.”
“I invited you for a walk.”
“I didn’t want to go on, but you tricked me with a puppy.” She points at Sarah, who is now rolling around in the grass, completely oblivious to the life-or-death conversation happening behind her.
“That’s forcing, in my book.”
“It does seem to be a theme with you,” I muse, adopting my best therapist voice, which I know irritates her.
“I say ‘puppy,’ and suddenly you ask where and do whatever people tell you. You even tolerate me. Would you like to discuss that?”
She stops abruptly, hands on her hips, and whirls to face me.
Which is very unfortunate for her, because stopping suddenly on an incline?
Not the brightest idea—her foot slips.
She yelps. And I do what any decent man would do: I grab her before she falls.
Except I don’t just grab her.
I pull her into me. Suddenly, her body is pressed flush against mine.
Her hands grip my forearms, fingers curling into my skin as if she’s grasping for dear life.
Her breath is warm against my throat, her chest rising and falling far too quickly for someone who just slipped half a foot.
Olivia goes completely still.
Which is impressive, considering I can feel her pulse racing against my skin.
Her eyes lift to mine—wide, startled—like she wasn’t expecting this.
Like she wasn’t expecting me.
Or maybe . . . wasn’t expecting to like being in my arms. I won’t lie—I wasn’t expecting this either.
The softness of her body pressed against mine.
The way she fits—perfectly, instinctively—suggests she belongs there as if she were meant to be there.
Yeah, this is entirely unexpected.
And not good.
No bueno at all.
Because everything shifts suddenly.
The teasing.
The banter.
The game we’ve been playing.
It’s different now.
The tension.
The pull.
The electric charge between us.
It’s thick. Heavy in the air, stretching out the silence like something is about to happen.
And fuck—I want it too.
I study her. The way her lips part —on the verge of speaking, but the words don’t follow.
Or maybe . . . Maybe she wasn’t going to say anything at all.
Perhaps she was going to .
. . My gaze drops to her mouth.
Her lips—slightly swollen from her biting them all fucking day while she’s trying to figure out how to fix the world.
Her mouth was soft and inviting, and she craved something.
And fuck if I don’t want to taste her.
I want to savor her so fucking bad.
This isn’t like when I text her to mess with her.
Not like when I tease her to see her roll her eyes.
No.
This time, I want to devour her.
I want to take her apart, piece by piece.
To feel her body melt against mine, to hear the exact sound she makes when I slide my tongue between her lips.
To pull her closer—so close she forgets why she ever fought this, why she ever thought resisting me was a good idea.
I want her taste—all of it.
Slow and deep at first, until she gives in.
Until she loses herself in me.
And then?
I want to ruin her.
Leave her so wrecked, so fucking undone, that the only thing she’ll remember is my name.
That the only man she wants is me.
She leans in.
Just a little.
Just enough.
And that’s when I realize, she wants this just as much as I do.
She wants me.
I tilt my head, lowering just enough to taste her.
Close enough that all I’d have to do is shift slightly, and my mouth would brush against hers.
And, fuck, I think she wants me to.
Her eyes flicker to my lips.
And then when I’m so close I can feel her breathing .
. . she shoves me.
She fucking shoves me.
Not hard enough to move me, but enough to snap herself out of whatever moment we were about to have.
Which is a fucking shame, because I was more than ready to take what she was so clearly tempted to give.
But fine. If she wants to play like this, I can adapt.
I can pretend . . .
Well, I’m not sure what, exactly, but I’ll make sure I win this new challenge.
Because I will get her to beg me for a kiss.
Of course, I act casual, as if nothing was about to happen.
Like my cock isn’t semi-hard because of her—because of the scent of her skin, warm and subtly sweet, like flowers and something deeper underneath.
Something that makes me want to bury my face in her neck and stay there.
I grin, unfazed.
She glares.
Sarah barks from ahead, impatient with our bullshit.
Olivia steps back, shaking her head furiously, like she’s trying to physically erase whatever just happened.
“No.” She points at me, tone firm.
“That didn’t happen.”
I chuckle, running a hand over my jaw.
“What didn’t happen, Doc?”
Her nostrils flare.
I smirk.
And, fuck, I love getting under her skin.
“Come on,” I say, nodding toward the trail.
“Let’s finish our walk before you slip again and fall for me.”
“I wouldn’t fall for you,” she argues.
I hum, dropping my voice low.
“Huh. You seemed to like being in my arms. Don’t deny it.”
Her head snaps up so fast I’m surprised she doesn’t give herself whiplash.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Crawford.”
“Whatever you say, Doc.”
She mutters something under her breath—something about regretting every life choice that led her to this exact moment.
Since she’s all worked up and I can’t leave enough alone, I say, “We could’ve just kept walking. You didn’t have to throw yourself at me.”
She throws me a look that could melt steel.
“I slipped,” she snaps.
“Because you dragged me onto this godforsaken trail when I could’ve been sitting somewhere peacefully with an iced coffee, contemplating the mess you’ve made of my life.”
I nod solemnly.
“Right, right. I made a mess of your life. Not the shady vet who sold you the clinic, not your complete lack of financial planning, not the person who convinced you that home inspections are for losers—nope. Just me.”
She glares harder.
“You are so annoying.”
I smile, pleased.
“I know.”
She exhales, turns on her heel, and keeps walking.
And I?
I watch her, already thinking of the next way I’m going to break her stoic exterior.
We walk in relative silence for a while.
By relative silence, I mean Olivia muttering something to herself.
It’s probably about how much she hates me while I take in the view.
The view being Olivia—irritated, flushed, and trying so hard to that pretend she’s not having a good time.