Chapter 14 - Ollie
Ollie
I’m at a desk in the large office on the second floor when there’s a knock at the door. Timber came back at least half an hour ago, and I’ve been trying to concentrate on polishing up the meal plans Luke and I made instead of the sound of him clattering around.
The office is conveniently located on the other side of the house. Or it should be convenient. Instead, I’ve been listening even harder for where Timber could be.
I need to focus on the list in front of me, but my heart is a one-person marching band, and all I’ve got are drums.
Because the bag is gone. The freaking slick-stained oatmeal bag that I threw away this morning vanished into thin air. I tore through the trash searching for it for a solid hour. I always make pancakes with the leftover oats, and there was nothing even vaguely oaty in the kitchen.
There’s no other explanation. Yeah, I was rushing when I threw it away, but I checked behind the mega-fridge, and I scoured the kitchen. I was like Scooby Doo on the hunt for my own freaking slick.
I just have to organize these meal plans for whoever will cook for Timber when I’m gone (leaving out the secret ingredient, of course). Then I’ll talk to Timber about quitting and get the hell out of here before I’m revealed to be the slicky mastermind who was under his nose all along.
I’ve got all the fun of going insane with nerves because Timber might have had more than my cooking for his lunch, with none of the actual pleasure of him tasting me.
I’m dying inside because the way he held me this morning was so good that I can’t tell if the pains in my stomach are preheat or stress-induced gas.
The heavy thuds of Timber’s feet as he comes up the stairs make me freak out even more, especially when he just stands outside the door. I’m not ready for this. Maybe if I stay quiet, he’ll go away.
I jump as he knocks after too long, and it echoes in the room.
“Come in,” I call out, twisting in the chair to face the door.
As soon as it swings open, I gasp, slamming my hand against my mouth. The color drains from my face as his scent flows into the room.
I jolt in my chair, but I can’t stop it. I perfume instantly, and it blends with the rich coffee and lavender that pour from Timber in waves.
His scent creeps under my hand; it’s floating around me. I can’t breathe or move because I’m suddenly dying as Timber steps closer.
A muffled whine spills from me as he watches me carefully. The back of my chair hits against the desk, shaking the pot of pens and paperclips enough to get me to focus.
“T-Timber, you—” I choke as he moves again. What the hell had they been doing?
I can smell cum on his clothes, and Kane’s scent is so lush that they must have been at it for a while.
“Luke,” he says. “What’s wrong?”
I pull my hand away, nearly snarling because I’m holding back that much.
“How the hell can you ask—” I have to slap my hand back over my mouth before I finish the sentence.
Lavender and coffee soak my tongue, and my eyes roll, tears beading, and I groan as slick escapes me. I need him to get away, or I’m done for.
Screw leaving. Fuck protecting Timber’s feelings. To hell with keeping my identity a secret so I don’t get thrown in jail and ruin my life forever.
He’s right there. And he has to know what’s happening.
Even though he’s tilting his head and blinking like a big, muscly angel, there’s no way he can’t at least guess how intense he smells.
“Timber,” I croak through my hand. “Please go and change.”
A look crosses his face that I can’t interpret. My mind is going fuzzy because the scents are so thick. Heat flares as more slick pools between my legs, and I have to press my thighs together to fight it.
I’m not a good enough person for this.
“I thought you wanted to talk?” he says, his eyes narrowing as another whine falls from me.
He can be clueless at times, but there’s no way he’s this dumb.
“Timber.” My voice trembles as I pull my hand away just enough to talk. “You can’t come home smelling like that and act like you don’t know. Please go and change. Have a shower. Do something to get rid of that scent.”
“So, you don’t like it?” He sounds genuinely curious, and that’s even worse.
A growl rumbles from me as he takes another step. “Timber. Get out.” Every breath becomes a struggle as I dig my nails into my thigh and hold on.
My gaze runs over him, and my eyes widen at the purple bruise riding the curve of his neck. I’d stab a bitch to know what position they were in when Kane bit him like that.
I miss Kane’s scent so much, even after one day, and I’ve never smelled Timber like this before.
It doesn’t matter how I curl my toes or squeeze my thighs; I still bend over because the smell is so painfully addictive that I’m going to fall on my knees and beg Timber to give me his lavender-soaked cock if he doesn’t get out of the room.
“Timber, please,” I say through clenched teeth, “leave.”
The hard look on his face morphs as I gasp again. I can’t tell what: guilt, regret, disappointment. Whatever the hell it is, it’s better that he looks like that than in pain because I’ve drop-kicked him and torn off his pants to get him eight inches down my throat .
He finally looks like he understands as he flinches. He opens his mouth to say something, but I glare at him. If he comes any nearer, I’ll devour him.
Timber backs out of the room, and the second the door closes, I gasp in relief.
I’m wheezing as need burns through me so hard that I either have to stroke myself right here where Timber can catch me, or I dash to a bathroom or my nest to take care of it.
Shaking, trembling, my whimpers sound pathetic as I hug myself. My head won’t freaking clear, and, for once, I wish I was in heat so I’ve got an excuse for why I’m so weak.
I don’t know what the hell is going on with Kane, but I don’t want to keep doing this. I don’t want to live like this. It’s even more proof that I need to leave his house and get away from him before I hurt him anymore.