Chapter 27
Sebastian
LOVELIFE - Sam Fischer
It’s early evening, and the fair’s alive.
Lights blink across the stalls, kids shriek from the Ferris wheel, and somewhere nearby, a country cover band is butchering a love song that’s already been overplayed to hell. Teddy’s practically vibrating beside Olivia, dragging her from one stall to the next.
Watching him now, you’d never guess where we started.
Three months ago, he barely looked people in the eye.
Words were slow to come, touch made him flinch, and I was a man who had no bloody clue what he was doing.
I’d sit up half the night, reading about sensory triggers and communication strategies, terrified I’d screw him up more than life already had.
There were days I felt like I was raising a stranger.
But then something shifted it. No. Not something, but someone.
Olivia. She walked in—this whirlwind of sunshine and noise—and somehow, cracked the silence.
I didn’t think anyone could reach him like that.
Now, he’s tugging her toward the next game, and I can’t decide what hits harder.
The pride, or the ache sitting right behind it.
He’s come so far. We both have.
So far, they’ve done the dodgem cars twice, fed half the petting zoo, and spent ten minutes debating which show bag to get—he picked the one with a cheap toy car and a chocolate bar, of course.
Olivia’s been the one to hold his hand, crouch beside him at every booth, her bright laugh carrying over the noise.
I’m just here to fund the chaos, and chauffeur them—the guy who gets handed half-eaten fairy floss when she says, “Hold this, Bash. I need a photo.”
Truth is, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
And the question that remains is—what the fuck do I do now?
I’ve never been the guy to stumble over a woman.
Never been the one to second-guess every glance, every word.
But she’s under my skin—that laugh, those ocean eyes, that stubborn streak, the way she looks at me like I’m not some jaded cop with too much baggage.
I run a hand over the back of my neck, scanning the crowd.
She’s standing near the games now, afternoon sunlight catching on her hair.
I take a slow breath. I’m attracted to her. I can admit that much.
But attraction is easy. It’s everything else that scares the hell out of me. Teddy bolts toward me from where he’d been standing with Liv, curls bouncing, cheeks flushed from sugar and excitement.
“Daddy, look!” He points to a balloon stand across the dirt path. “Can I get one for Mummy?”
The word hits like a sucker punch straight to the ribs. Mummy. Not her name. Not even where’s Mummy? Just… Mummy. In a sentence. Casual. Unthinking.
My throat locks up. I haven’t heard him say that since last year. Since the meltdown, when he cried for hours and begged me to bring her back. When he still thought I could fix it.
I freeze for a second, the air thinning around me. It’s not the word itself—it’s the memory it drags behind it. Olivia’s only a few steps away, smiling gently, like she doesn’t see the crack that just opened in my chest.
I clear my throat, crouching down to Teddy’s level, swallowing everything I’m feeling. “Hey, bud. How about we pick one for Diesel instead, yeah? Bet he’d love a blue one.”
He nods, like nothing happened, already distracted again as he darts toward the stand. The ache in my chest lingers. Olivia’s still watching, her smile faded, eyes searching mine like she saw something.
The rest of the afternoon plays out with small, quiet moments.
Teddy insists on patting every single goat in the petting enclosure, and he wins a plush dinosaur at the lucky dip stall.
We share a bucket of hot chips and lemonade from a food truck, the breeze warm against our skin, the scent of hay and sugar lingering in the air.
Olivia laughs and snaps photos occasionally.
Eventually, the sky starts to burn gold, and Teddy’s yawning, the sugar crash settling in.
The drive home is still. Olivia nods off first, her head lolling gently toward the window.
Teddy follows not long after, snoring, soft and steady, in the back seat, his toy dinosaur clutched to his chest. I glance between them at a red light, and something in my chest goes tight.
Peaceful.
She’s so fucking beautiful when she’s like this.
Soft. Unaware. Not thinking, not overanalysing—just being.
A goddamn woman in every sense of the word.
Strong. Gentle. The kind of quiet that makes you feel something.
I park in the driveway and kill the engine, careful not to jostle either of them.
I lift Teddy out first and carry him inside before changing and tucking him into his bed without him stirring.
Olivia’s still curled up on the passenger seat when I return. I crack the door open slowly, and she stirs only a little as I slide an arm under her thighs, and the other behind her back.
“Shhh,” I murmur into her hair. “I got you.”
She doesn’t wake, just melts into me, her head resting against my shoulder.
I carry her inside, ease her down onto the lounge.
She exhales a sigh the second her body meets the cushions, instinctively curling into the blanket I pull over her.
For a second, I hover, watching the way her lips part, how her lashes flutter like she’s caught in a dream.
I brush a strand of hair from her cheek, studying her for a beat too long.
Because no one’s watching. And because, fuck it. I want to.
Eventually, I walk away.
My room’s dark. Quiet. I toe off my boots, swap my jeans for sweats, and grab my half-finished paperback and reading glasses from my nightstand.
The balcony doors groan as I push them open, letting in the night.
Outside, the air is cooler now. I sink into the weathered lounge chair, book open on my knee, glasses low on my nose.
I try to read the same paragraph four times and fail, the words blurring into nothing.
Sighing heavily, I close the book and set it down.
My head tilts back against the chair, eyes lifting to the sky above.
The sliding door whispers open behind me, followed by the hush of bare feet on the floorboards.
“Hey,” she says softly. “You weren’t inside when I woke. The house felt too quiet.”
“I didn’t want to wake you by being too loud.”
“I would’ve preferred it.”
That pulls a smile out of me, and I turn to face her.
The hem of her dress flutters in the breeze, brushing against her knees.
Her hair’s a mess from sleep, eyes soft in the low light.
Barefoot. Toes curling against the cool timber, skin still flushed with warmth from the lounge.
And just like that, I forget how to breathe.
She’s temptation wrapped in tenderness. Effortless. Wild.
I pat my thigh as a silent invitation.
Her eyes flutter down, then back to mine.
She hesitates, chewing her lip, and something sharp and tight settles behind my ribs.
She takes a step, and the night folds in around us.
My patience frays. “You’re killing me, Olivia,” I murmur, letting one finger trail the hem of her dress.
I drag the soft fabric between my knuckles until it’s clear what I’m not saying.
She sucks in a breath, eyes darkening. “Is that supposed to scare me, Superintendent?”
There’s the sass. The bite. That fire.
I stand, and she doesn’t back away. Instead, she steps closer.
Close enough that her thighs brush mine.
Close enough that her fingers slide up my shoulders and curl into the collar of my shirt.
Not pulling. Just holding. Testing. Her gaze lifts, something reckless burning behind it, just as she leans in to brush her lips, featherlight, along my jaw.
“Say it,” she whispers. “Say what you’ve been thinking since the second I walked out here.”
I feel it everywhere. Heat, pressure, the kind of tightening that robs a man of any good sense. I should behave. But I don’t. My hands slide to her hips, thumbs pressing into the soft curves as my mouth drags along her jaw, breath rough.
“If I kiss you now, I’m not going to stop.”
She hums, barely a sound, then presses her lips to my jaw again, slower this time. Her fingers curl into the collar of my shirt and tug. “And?”
I pull back just enough to meet her eyes, the only warning I’ll give. “And if I don’t stop, sweetheart… I’m going to fuck you.”
The sound that escapes her—soft, needy, wrecked—detonates every thought I had of holding back.
I catch her mouth, devour it, kiss her like I’ve been holding my breath for weeks.
She meets me without hesitation, lips parting, body pressing closer.
I press her into the railing, boxing her in with my body, and kiss her deeper until everything else disappears.
It’s messy and hungry, and I’m too far gone to pretend otherwise.
Olivia’s fingers curl into my shirt, gripping tightly.
When I bite her lip, she gasps—and fuck, that sound goes straight to my spine.
My hand finds the back of her neck, the other sliding beneath her dress, tracing skin and heat.
She’s soft everywhere I grip, trembling when I lift one thigh around my hip and grind her closer.
Pulling back, just enough to speak, my exhale is rough against her lips. “Inside,” I growl. “Now.”
The only light in the room spills from the streetlamp outside, gold slashing across her skin in perfect contrast. She stands by the bed, chest rising fast, dress fluttering around her thighs. Her eyes never leave mine. I step in close, dragging my thumb across her bottom lip.
“You sure about this, Trouble?”
“Yes, Bash.”
I trail my mouth down the column of her throat. Slow. Possessive. My hands find her waist, guiding her back until she’s perched at the edge of my bed, knees brushing mine. My eyes never leave hers as my hands find the hem of her dress. I tug it up, slowly, over her head… and stop breathing. Jesus.
Black cotton and lace. She’s stunning. Unfiltered. Confident and vulnerable in equal measure, and it does something violent to me—makes my chest ache and my cock harden all at once.
I look her over entirely. At her shoulders. Her collarbone. The swell of her breasts. The line of her stomach. Every part of her is art and temptation and the final fucking undoing of my self-control.
I step in, cupping both breasts in my hands, the weight of them filling my palms perfectly.
She gasps, arching into the touch, and I don’t hesitate.
My mouth finds one tight peak, sucking it into the heat of my mouth, tongue flicking over her.
Her head tips back with a quiet moan, and her body leans closer, desperate for more.
I shift, licking across to the other, drawing it in with a low groan.
Olivia’s hands find my shoulders, nails digging in hard.
I pull back slowly then, releasing her breast with a soft pop.
“Lie back for me,” I say, voice low, dripping with hunger. She does, eyes wide, lips parted, chest still heaving.
Then I sink to my knees before skimming my hands down the backs of her calves, sliding up to her knees.
I nudge them apart and press a kiss to the inside of her thigh.
Olivia’s fingers slide into my hair, threading through like she’s grounding herself.
When I glance up, fuck me—she’s watching.
Eyes locked on mine, full of hunger. Trust. Desperation.
“Beautiful,” I grit out. “So fucking beautiful.”
I mouth her pussy through the lace, sucking just enough to feel the heat of her, to taste the dampness soaking through. Her hips jerk as she tightens her fingers in my hair.
“Oh, God,” she whimpers.
I drag the flimsy material aside and lick a long, deliberate swipe through her—this time, no lace, no barrier, just the slick heat of arousal against my tongue.
I groan, lapping her up like a man gone too long without.
Starved. Obsessed. My tongue presses flatly, slow at first, over her clit, before flicking it until her back bows clean off the bed, and she moans my name like a sin.
I suck harder, bury my tongue deeper until I’m right where she needs me, until I can’t go any further, until she’s squirming, breathless, undone. Her thighs clamp around my head suddenly, and I know she’s close.
“You’re perfect,” I growl against her. “Let go for me, Trouble.”
And when she does. Fuck. It’s everything.