Chapter 7
By 6 p.m., I was bored out of my mind. I read on my Kindle for a few hours, watched television, and straightened my underwear drawer. Maybe I should’ve taken Sadie up on dating one of Dan’s friends. Even if I went out for a drink, I would be out of here.
I made myself a turkey sandwich for dinner, and it reminded me of the fresh turkey wrap I enjoyed last week with Oliver. It seemed like months ago. I hadn’t heard from him all day, and I wasn’t about to contact him. I started flipping the channels on TV and settled on a nature show until I saw it was about poaching. I was dozing on the couch when I heard my phone chime with an incoming text.
Come downstairs, I’m out front.
My heart started to pound when I saw the message from Oliver. I was curt in my answer.
I’m busy tonight. My time is valuable.
Don’t make me come up there.
Come up? How would he get up here since he would need the concierge to call me before he came upstairs? As much as I wanted to see him, I was hurt by his behavior the night before. I ignored his text and closed my eyes again.
My phone kept chiming, but I held strong. A few minutes later, someone knocked at my door.
“Go away. I’m busy.”
“Ryleigh, open the door. Stop being childish.”
That pissed me off because he acted like a jerk last night, not me. I stomped to the door and threw it open. Oliver was standing there grinning and making me want to smack him. He looked delicious in a tight black t-shirt that framed his muscular chest and torso and a pair of light blue jeans.
“That didn’t take long.”
“I don’t want to see you anymore.”
I walked away, and he came inside, closing the door after him. He grabbed my arm and pinned me to the wall, giving me a bruising kiss. His tongue pressed against the seam of my mouth until I opened, and he thrust it inside. It took me seconds to bend to his will. What a weakling I was. I didn’t even fight him. He moved his lips down my neck and marked me with his teeth.
“I’m busy,” I mumbled, drunk with the scent of his cologne.
Oliver pulled away to look at me, staring down until I averted my eyes.
“You’re not busy. You’re upset with me,” he almost whispered.
“You hurt me.”
“I’m sorry. You’re throwing my balance off. I’ve never had this happen before.”
“You were cold to me, and I didn’t hear from you all day.”
He eased up his hold on me. “I had to think what my next move was. I think I’m falling for you. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I have no choice.”
“You don’t even know me.”
He was admitting to me the same thing I should be admitting to him.
“I don’t have to know you to know how I feel.”
“Either that, or you’re just saying it to get me into bed.”
Oliver looked like I just slapped him in the face, and his eyebrows knitted together.
“I would never do that. It’s not about sex, even though I will admit that I want to have it with you. It’s something deeper.”
I walked away from him because I didn’t know what else to say without telling him I had fallen for him. Behind me, I heard him chuckle.
“That’s quite an outfit.”
I never changed from my tiny shorts and threadbare white t-shirt. When I looked down, I realized he could see my red bra as clearly as day.
“Shit. Let me go change.”
“Does that mean I can stay?”
“Yes.”
I ran to my room, closing the door as I searched for a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to change into. Oliver was sitting on the couch flipping the channels when I came out. He looked at ease as if he lived here. His eyes traveled my body up and down.
“I much prefer the other outfit,” he said.
“Too bad. This is what you get.”
“I like your bra. Fiery red suits you.”
I felt my face heat, but I knew I shouldn’t be embarrassed. The way we were going, my underwear wouldn’t be the only thing Oliver would see. I sat down next to him, and he turned to kiss me again, but I pushed him away, straddling his hips. It was my turn to be the aggressor.
I pulled the remote from his hand, dropped it on the couch, and gently kissed his face and neck. His light stubble brushed against my skin as I moved along. I wanted to consume him and much more; I wanted him to make love to me. He stroked my back, slipping his hands under my t-shirt to touch the flesh on my stomach.
I could feel my core flooding and his erection against my center. He moved his hand further up until he was skimming the undersides of my breasts. I softly moaned against his neck. We were both breathing heavily when he pulled me hard against him, holding me tightly in his arms.
“We have to stop,” he said.
“No,” I groaned.
“Ryleigh, I’m not ready to have sex with you.”
I almost laughed. “Shouldn’t that be my line?”
“It works both ways.”
I pushed off his chest and moved back on his knees to meet his gaze.
“I want you. I know you want me.”
I went to reach for his hard-as-steel erection, but he grabbed my wrist.
“I can’t help my reaction to you,” he growled.
“Then why?”
“You said so yourself. We need to get to know each other better.”
I sighed and slid off his lap, leaning back against the couch. Oliver put his arm around me, stroking my shoulder.
“You’re driving me crazy,” I said.
He chuckled. “You think you’re the only one?”
It was nice to know that I could unravel this man as much as he could unravel me. Oliver always seemed so damn cool and put together while I was sweating my next move.
“So what do we do?” I asked.
Oliver stroked my hair. “Have patience. You don’t want to just jump into bed with me.”
I was honest. “But I do. I want you to fuck me.”
“I don’t just want to fuck you. I want to make love to you.”
My stomach did flip-flops, and my heart picked up, pounding hard in my chest.
“I had a dream about you,” I admitted.
Oliver smirked. “Did you? What was it about?”
“It was dirty, very dirty.”
“I assure you that your dream is nothing like what I can provide.”
I nudged him in the ribs with my elbow. “Shut up, Oliver. Don’t tease me.”
He turned my head to him and planted a soft kiss on my lips. I deepened it, licking the corners of his mouth and clenching his t-shirt, but he didn’t let me go further like I wanted, pulling away.
“Did you eat?” he asked.
“I had a turkey sandwich. It was nothing like the one I had in your office.”
He pursed his lips. “Too bad. I would like to take you out to dinner.”
“Have you eaten?”
“No. I was hoping you would have dinner with me.”
“I could make you something. What would you like?” I offered.
“If I told you what I wanted to eat, I would break my vow.”
I groaned. “Dammit, Oliver, stop it!” I yelled.
“I’ll take a sandwich and some water.”
“I have turkey and ham.”
“Both.”
I got up from the couch and went to the kitchen, taking out everything I needed to make a sandwich for Oliver. He picked up one of the magazines from the table and paged through it.
“You read this crap?”
I shrugged. “It’s Sadie’s. I’m not really interested. Why are you?”
“I just wanted to see if I was in here.”
“My, you are conceited. I’m sure you’re not the only eligible bachelor on the East Coast.”
“I don’t want to be eligible.”
I knew what he meant by his statement. He hoped we would start dating and he would be off the market. I wanted that, too.
“Stop, stop,” I panted.
Once again, we were bordering on sex. After Oliver ate his meal, we started to kiss, and I ended up underneath him. He teased me with his mouth, sucking my earlobes and nibbling on my neck. His large erection was pressed against my cleft, and with each shift of his hips, I was almost sure I would orgasm.
He sat up, sweeping his hand over my taut nipples as he backed away, adjusting his shaft in his khaki shorts.
“I should go home before we do something we shouldn’t.”
“I want to,” I said quietly.
He sighed. “We’re not ready.”
“When? Because I can’t take much more of this. Throw me a bone here.”
Oliver’s face clouded. “That’s not the right choice of words.”
“I’d like your bone, but you won’t oblige.”
“That’s a crude thing to say.”
“Does that bother you? I can be a bit brash at times,” I admitted.
He smirked. “I hope that brashness transfers into bed.”
“Do you want to find out?” I challenged.
“Not tonight.”
Oliver stood and once again adjusted his shorts. His erection had barely abated and was still as large as it had been a few minutes ago. I looked at it longingly, wanting to open his shorts.
“I need to use your bathroom,” Oliver stated, his tone urgent.
“I hope you aren’t going to do something that I could help with,” I replied, eyebrow raised in suspicion.
“I have to urinate,” he admitted, almost sheepishly.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I think in your state, it would end up on the ceiling.”
Oliver snorted. “Cute. Where is the bathroom?”
I pointed down the hall, my gaze lingering on him as he walked away. Minutes ticked by before he returned.
“Took you long enough,” I remarked.
“I needed to employ some breathing exercises to fix my issue,” he explained.
“I could’ve fixed your issue,” I teased.
“I need to leave. I’d like to see you tomorrow,” he said abruptly.
I bit my lip, feeling a sense of hesitation. “I guess.”
“What’s the matter?” Oliver asked, sensing my reluctance.
“I have the whole apartment to myself. Sadie isn’t coming home tonight,” I confessed.
“You want company?” he offered.
“Would you stay?” I asked, almost pleadingly.
“Can you keep your hands to yourself?” he challenged.
“I could try,” I replied, though uncertainty laced my words.
“Not good enough. Give me your word, and I’ll stay,” he demanded.
I hesitated, unsure if I could keep such a promise. “I promise.”
“Then I’ll stay,” he agreed.
As he took out his phone and tapped a text, I couldn’t help but ask, “Who did you text?”
“Vlad. He’s waiting for me,” Oliver revealed casually.
“Waiting? Where?” I inquired, surprised.
“Somewhere in the area,” he replied nonchalantly.
“You made that poor man wait?” I chided him lightly.
“He gets paid well to wait and do other things. If you wanted something to eat, I could have him bring it,” he offered.
“No. I know how it feels to be an errand girl. It’s all I seem to do at work,” I declined.
Oliver sat down beside me, his touch gentle as he stroked my hair. “You don’t like your job?”
“Not really. I told you this before,” I confessed.
“Work for me,” he suggested suddenly.
“Doing what?” I asked, surprised by his offer.
“We hire all the time. You have a degree, and I’m sure we can place you,” he assured me.
“I think that would be too familiar. We should have some space,” I reasoned.
“I doubt I would see you during the day. I’m in and out of the office most of the time,” he pointed out.
It was so tempting. I really hated my job, and Beatrice had gotten worse as time wore on. She piled on all the shitty jobs no one else wanted to do, and she was nasty, not respecting those who worked for her. It was grating on my nerves.
“But still. You would know I was on the floor somewhere,” Oliver remarked, his tone contemplative.
“And you think I would seek you out?” I countered, studying his expression for any hint of sincerity.
“Wouldn’t you?” he prodded.
“I would try not to,” I admitted, though a part of me knew it would be futile.
“And if you didn’t succeed?” he pressed further.
“Then I would take you into the privacy of my office,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.
“To do what?” I inquired, curiosity piqued.
“Ryleigh, where is this conversation going?” Oliver interjected, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“I’m simply trying to ascertain if you would try something during the day,” I explained, trying to maintain a semblance of professionalism despite the escalating tension between us.
“Try something?” he repeated, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Sex, Oliver. Sex in the office. Sex in your very large, very comfortable office,” I stated bluntly, daring him to deny the possibility.
“Highly inappropriate,” he retorted, though his gaze lingered on mine, betraying a flicker of interest.
“But not improbable. Face it, we’re like gasoline to flame,” I pointed out, unable to deny the magnetic pull between us.
“Gasoline doesn’t catch fire; the fumes do,” he countered, his lips quirking into a half-smile.
“You know what I mean,” I shot back, feeling a flush creeping up my neck.
Oliver kept staring into my eyes, his gaze unwavering. “Yes, I do.”
“So, would you?” I pressed, the question hanging between us like a charged wire.
“Have sex with you in my office? Would it make or break your coming to work for me?” he countered, his voice low and measured.
“Make? Like it’s a perk? You might be horrible in bed,” I challenged, refusing to back down.
“I assure you, I’m not,” he replied confidently, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
“Then show me,” I dared him, my heart pounding in my chest.
“I won’t tonight. You’ll just have to trust me,” he murmured, his gaze intense.
“I hate you,” I muttered, though the words rang hollow even to my own ears.
“Now that I know is a lie,” he said softly, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
I couldn’t sleep. I’d been tossing and turning for the past hour. Oliver was asleep next to me. I almost came in my panties when he got undressed and slipped into my bed. His body was sublime, and I wanted him in the worst way. I was highly aroused with him so close that it made me consider handling my business in the bathroom. The nagging throb between my legs was annoying, and I unsuccessfully willed it away.
Oliver was on his back with the covers around his waist. His chest and torso were in full silhouette, and I had to restrain myself from touching him. I gave up and gently ran my fingers over his smooth skin, circling his nipples. He grumbled in his sleep. I did it again, and he shifted, startling me by speaking.
“Ryleigh, you promised. Stop trying to seduce me.”
He kept his eyes closed, but I could see a slight smile on his face even though I could barely see it.
“You’re hard to resist. I’m not doing well,” I confessed, feeling the weight of my desire pressing against the walls of restraint.
Oliver turned on his side, his eyes scanning my face with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m uncomfortable,” I admitted, unable to meet his gaze.
“You hurt?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.
“I’m heated,” I confessed, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
“We’re not having sex,” he stated firmly, drawing a line in the sand.
“All sex or just penetration?” I pushed, my curiosity overriding my better judgment.
“What are you driving at?” he questioned, sensing the direction of my thoughts.
“What about oral sex?” I ventured, feeling the tension crackling in the air
between us.
“No. That is considered sex,” he replied, his brows furrowing in contemplation.
“What about if I jerk you off?” I pressed further, testing the boundaries of our conversation.
“Again, sex,” he stated definitively, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I announced, moving to push the covers off.
Oliver grabbed my arm, his touch gentle yet firm. “If I do something for you, will you promise to be good?” he proposed, his eyes locking onto mine with a mixture of seriousness and underlying desire.
“What did you have in mind?”
“Lie on your back.”
He let my arm go as I returned to bed, lying on my back. My stomach churned with anticipation. I was dressed in panties and a long t-shirt. Oliver slipped his hand over my panties, searching for the waistband. He leaned in and claimed my mouth as he pushed his fingers down to my cleft.
“You’re very wet.”
“I told you I was,” I choked out as he began to make slow circles around my swollen nub.
“Do you always get so wet?”
“I guess. It’s been a while since I had sex.”
He clamped his mouth on mine again and sped up his finger. I bucked my hips and within a minute I was coming. I tore my mouth from his and moaned loudly. Oliver kept rubbing me until my body went limp.
“There, now go to sleep,” he said as he gave me a final peck on the cheek.
“What about you?”
“What about me? I have self-control.”
“Is that to say that I don’t?”
“Ryleigh, stop arguing with me and turn on your side so I can cuddle you.”
I smiled in the dark and moved to my side. Oliver took me in his arms and tucked his chin against my shoulder. It was the last thing I remembered—besides his erection pressed into my back—as I fell asleep.
When I woke up the next morning, Oliver was still next to me. I see his gorgeous face in the light that’s seeping in from around the curtains. During the night, I turned in his arms and was now facing his chest. I planted kisses on the muscled flesh and a rumble escaped from him.
As I blinked my eyes open to the soft light filtering through the curtains, Oliver”s voice greeted me. ”Good morning. I thought I was dreaming.”
I couldn”t help the smirk that tugged at my lips. ”About what?” I inquired, teasingly.
”You in my arms. I like having you in my arms,” he confessed, his tone warm and genuine.
”I like it. I like you,” I responded, though the truth flickered behind my words. My heart belonged to Oliver, but admitting it felt like stepping into a whirlwind of uncertainty. I had fallen into this situation so quickly, it was hard to untangle myself.
His smile widened. ”I’m glad to hear that. Can I interest you in some breakfast?”
I raised an eyebrow. ”How do you know I have anything here to eat?”
”I’m not asking to eat breakfast here. Come to my apartment,” he suggested, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
”You want me to go all the way to your apartment to eat brunch?” I quipped.
”Brunch. You won’t be disappointed. You owe me,” he reminded me, a playful glint in his eyes.
I leaned in, trailing a kiss along his chest. ”I owe you for what?”
”Last night. It’s your turn to please me,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire.
”I wanted to, but you said no,” I reminded him, feeling a pang of frustration mingled with longing.
”Not with sex. Come home with me. Let me feed you,” he urged gently.
”Can we eat on the patio?” I asked, my mind already envisioning the warm sunlight dappling our skin as we dined al fresco.
”If that’s your pleasure, we can,” he acquiesced with a smile.
As Oliver sat up, I took a moment to admire the contours of his body, resisting the urge to trace kisses along his skin.
”Should I shower?” I asked, breaking the moment.
”You can, unless you want to do it at my place,” he suggested, a hint of temptation lacing his words.
”That’s tempting in more ways than one,” I remarked, my eyes lingering on him suggestively.
”It would be a shower, nothing else,” he clarified.
My heart raced at the thought of being so close to him.
”I’ll take a quick one here,” I decided, slipping out of bed and heading for the bathroom.
He watched me go, a soft smile playing on his lips. When I emerged from the shower, Oliver was already dressed and fussing with his hair in front of the mirror.
”Leave it messy, I like it that way,” I suggested, stepping up beside him.
”I don’t,” he replied, his attention still on his reflection.
He continued to work on his hair while I moved around him and pulled out a pink bra and panty set. When he saw it, Oliver focused on me.
“Are you going to watch me get dressed?”
”I should sit in the living room. I’m giving up on my hair,” he declared.
“You can stay if you want.”
He smirked. “That’s not a good idea and you know why.”
“I’ll be out in a minute.”
He went to sit on the couch, and just to be a brat, I left the door open while I dressed. From his vantage point, he could partially see me, but when I looked at him, he was typing something into his phone.
”Typical,” I muttered under my breath, sliding into my clothes with an air of defiance.
Vlad was waiting for us downstairs when we exited my building. Traffic was still light since it was before 9:00 AM on a Sunday morning. I snuggled up against Oliver’s shoulder as we drove to his place, the city slowly waking up around us. He kissed the top of my head, his touch warm and comforting, and put his arm around me.
When we arrived at his building, he took me upstairs. A man was standing in the kitchen wearing chef’s whites, and I detected the aroma of cinnamon wafting through the air. Oliver nodded at the man as he led me out to the patio, the anticipation of what awaited us stirring in my chest.
The rectangular teak table had two places set with China, silverware, and glasses, the morning sunlight casting a golden hue over everything. The oversized umbrella had been opened to shade us while we ate, creating an intimate oasis amidst the urban chaos. A large pitcher of blood orange juice sat in a silver platter with raised sides, glistening with condensation like dewdrops on a summer morning.
Oliver pulled out my seat for me, a gesture that felt both chivalrous and endearing. After I was comfortable, he sat down next to me, his eyes gleaming with a hint of excitement. A few seconds later, a woman wearing a black uniform came to the table, her demeanor poised and professional. She placed a bowl of fruit salad and a plate with cinnamon buns and danish on the table with a practiced flourish, adding to the allure of the scene before us.
”Cinnamon buns? You?” I teased, raising an eyebrow.
”You think I don’t eat simply?” Oliver replied with a playful grin.
”Oliver, this is hardly simple. You have a chef and a waitress serving us,” I pointed out, gesturing to the attentive staff.
”Would you rather I send them home and cook for you?” he quipped, a hint of challenge in his tone.
”If I asked, would you?” I countered, curiosity dancing in my eyes.
”Are you challenging me? I can cook,” he declared, his competitive spirit coming to the surface.
”I’m sure you can, but since your chef is here, let him do his magic,” I conceded, a smile tugging at my lips.
”Would you like some juice?” Oliver offered, changing the subject smoothly.
I smirked, unable to resist. ”Is it fresh squeezed?”
”Absolutely, and I have the pulp strained because I dislike it,” he assured me, a twinkle in his eyes.
”Can I have some ice? I like my drinks cold,” I requested, playfully pushing the boundaries.
”I’m sure it can be arranged,” he replied, his tone indulgent as he signaled for the waitress to fulfill my request.
We had a leisurely breakfast. The coffee was an exotic blend, and the cinnamon buns were homemade as were the danish. The chef himself brought out a mushroom and cheese frittata and served us. It was delicious. I couldn’t stop myself from touching Oliver. Every so often, I stroked his arm or hand.
”Are you trying to seduce me again?” Oliver”s asked, his voice smooth as silk.
”Not at all,” I replied, a playful glint in my eyes as I met his gaze. ”Your skin is so soft and so tan. You’re always in the office. How are you that tan?” I couldn”t help but ask, my curiosity piqued.
”I have a boat and a house on Long Island. I spend time there on the weekends. I can work from anywhere, really,” he explained, a hint of wanderlust in his tone.
”You know what they say about all work and no play?” I teased, a smile playing at the corners of my lips.
”I do play, but not as often as I would like. Now that I have a playmate, I might have to make changes,” Oliver countered, his eyes dancing with mischief.
”Is that how you see me? As a playmate?” I questioned, my heart skipping a beat at the implications.
”No. You’re so much more than that,” he assured me, his words sending a warm rush through me.
I returned his smile before taking another bite of my second cinnamon bun, savoring the decadent flavor. They were delicious, undoubtedly baked with plenty of butter. A pang of guilt crept in as I contemplated the potential impact on my waistline. I”d been lucky my freshman year, avoiding the dreaded freshman fifteen, but I knew I needed to be mindful.
”So what do you have on the agenda today? Should I go home now that you fed me?” I inquired, shifting the conversation.
”I would like you to stay, but only if I’m not keeping you from something,” Oliver replied, his gaze soft with concern.
”I have nothing going on, but it’s what I might be keeping you from,” I confessed, my thoughts racing with possibilities.
”It’s nothing that can’t wait. I’d rather spend time with you,” he insisted, his words washing over me like a soothing balm.
Oliver leaned in, his lips meeting mine in a coffee-laced kiss that ignited a spark between us. I eagerly deepened the kiss, losing myself in the sensation of his touch.
“You’re making me crazy. I think it’s time for me to take a cold shower,” he murmured, his breath hot against my skin.
”Where should I wait for you?” I asked, anticipation coursing through me.
”My bedroom or the study. The choice is yours,” he offered, his voice low and inviting.
My pulse quickened at the thought of being alone with Oliver, my mind racing with possibilities. As he helped me from my chair and escorted me to his bedroom, my stomach tightened with anticipation. Maybe today, I’d catch a glimpse of Oliver in his boxers.
A thrill ran through me as I allowed myself to hope. As we passed by the chef and waitress cleaning the kitchen, Oliver nodded at them, a silent acknowledgment of their presence before leading me into his private sanctuary.
I sat down on his bed while he showered, snuggling into his soft comforter. I almost fell asleep until Oliver came out of the bathroom with a thick white terry cloth towel wrapped around his waist. I opened my eyes and ogled him. I still couldn’t believe how hot he was.
Oliver turned and I quickly closed my eyes, but he was wise to me. He sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked my hair.
“Were you watching me?”
I opened my eyes and smiled, “I can’t help it. You’re hot.”
“You’re the one that’s hot.”
I moved my hand to his thigh and began to rub. He put his over mine to stop me.
“Don’t start.”
“Why not?” I pouted.
“Because. The time isn’t right.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do. Now behave.”
He got off the bed and went into the walk-in closet. I could see part of him, and when he removed his towel to slip on his boxers, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. His taut ass was beautiful and muscular. My core tightened, thinking about digging my nails into it while Oliver fucked me. I couldn’t take it and turned to face the window.
I could see out to the patio from his bed. The table we ate breakfast at was clean and the umbrella was now in the closed position. It was nice to be served once in a while. I could get used to this, but we were just starting our relationship. Maybe Oliver would find something out about me that he didn’t like and end us.
I still hadn’t revealed to him about my father. If he did any research on me, he would’ve known about the murder. I was sure once I had a nightmare, startling him out of a deep sleep, he wouldn’t want to bother with me. I had already lost a boyfriend once before because I couldn’t stop waking up screaming. It was only a matter of time.
“Ryleigh, what’s the matter?”
I turned my head to see him dressed in a pair of pressed gray shorts and white polo shirt. His sandy hair was neatly combed, thick on the top and short on the sides.
“Nothing. I was just thinking about….” I fumbled for a topic. “About how beautiful your patio is. I really enjoyed breakfast.”
“I’m glad. They say the way to a woman’s heart is food.”
“No, that’s a man. The way to a woman’s heart is diamonds.”
I was joking of course but Oliver gave me such a serious look that I wondered if I overstepped my bounds. He was a man of means and I’m sure there were plenty of women that viewed him as a meal ticket.
“I would buy you many if that would make you give me your heart,” Oliver confessed, his voice tinged with sincerity.
“You don’t have to buy me things. I don’t expect it, and I’m not asking,” I reassured him, my tone gentle yet firm.
“I hoped you would say that, but it still doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to buy you gifts,” he admitted, a hint of vulnerability in his words.
“I don’t need gifts. Maybe we should talk,” I suggested, feeling a weight settle in the pit of my stomach.
“Are we about to have a deep conversation?” Oliver inquired, his brow furrowing slightly.
“You know about me, but not everything. I haven’t told you all the details,” I confessed, feeling a knot form in my throat.
I sat up and leaned against the headboard, my knees drawn up to my chest. Oliver mirrored my movement, sitting a couple of feet away from me on the bed and crossing his legs. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the conversation that lay ahead.
“My father was murdered when I was six.”
His face tightened, “Excuse me?”
“My father was murdered. I was with him when it happened.”
He tried to hide his look of horror, but it was apparent. “I’m sorry. I thought you lived with your parents.”
“Anders is my stepfather, but he adopted me and my brothers. He’s been married to my mother for fourteen years. He’s been my father longer than my biological father was. I don’t remember him well and I remember almost nothing about the murder.”
“Jesus Christ. You saw it happen?”
“I don’t know. I only remember our car being hit and my father getting out to talk to the other driver. The next thing I remember is sitting by his bloody body. It was late and there were few cars on the street. I don’t know how long I sat there with him before someone came by.”
He reached out for me but I moved away. If he touched me while I told the story, I would burst into tears. I wanted Oliver to know that I was damaged and there was still time for him to walk away.
My voice cracked. “I stopped talking for a while. I missed a whole year of school and went to a therapist.”
“Did they find the killer?”
I shook my head. “No. It’s unsolved.”
“Someone shot your father just for a small fender bender?”
I shrugged. I didn’t know the motivation of my father’s killer. “I guess. I don’t know what it was about. My father told me to stay down. I think he knew the man.”
“Are you okay?”
I shifted uncomfortably under Oliver”s intense gaze, feeling the weight of his concern as he reached out to me.
”No,” I whispered, avoiding his eyes. ”I have nightmares, especially when stress piles up. I scared Sadie half to death when we first shared a room. But she... she got it. She pushed her bed next to mine, stayed close until the terrors ebbed away. That”s why she”s so special to me. She understood when others might have just walked away.”
”Come here,” Oliver urged, his voice a gentle command.
I hesitated, uncertainty flickering in my eyes, but Oliver moved swiftly to envelop me in his arms, drawing me onto his lap, peppering my face with soft kisses.
”I won”t leave you because of your nightmares,” he murmured against my skin.
”Thank you,” I whispered gratefully.
”You don”t need to thank me,” he replied, sincerity coloring his words. ”I care about you.”
My shoulders slumped, a sigh escaping my lips. ”I have to work tomorrow. I can”t keep being the coffee runner.”
Sliding off Oliver”s lap, I returned to my previous spot.
”Work for me,” Oliver offered, his tone determined. ”We can find a role for you. We”re always expanding.”
I shook my head, worry creasing my brow. ”What would your staff think if I joined? They”d speculate about favoritism because of us being together.”
”It”s none of their concern,” Oliver stated firmly. ”I”m the boss. I can hire whomever I choose.”
I sighed, frustration edging into my voice. ”True, but that won”t stop the gossip. I”ve seen it in my own workplace.”
”Do you care what they say?” Oliver questioned, his gaze unwavering.
”It would bother me,” I admitted reluctantly.
”Then we”ll keep it discreet,” Oliver decided. ”Does that mean you want to be exclusive with me?”
”Do you?” I countered, my heart pounding in my chest.
Oliver”s expression softened, his eyes reflecting his sincerity. “Don’t ask a question with a question. Do you?”
I played with a lock of my hair. ”I still don”t understand why you want me.”
”You don”t need to understand,” I replied softly. ”Just know that I do. You”re everything I”ve ever wanted, and I”ve waited a lifetime to find you. I”m not letting you slip away.”