5. Olivia
This is a bad idea.
I know it and I’ve made up all kinds of excuses, from how it will just lengthen his driving time to how I don’t mind waiting for a cab. But I do mind because I’ve already extended my work hours and my babysitter needs to go home—which leaves me no choice but to accept something I don’t want to accept.
Before I can think too much about it, I hop in his car and state my address, then let him do his thing. Noises surround us, a reprieve as we’re distracted by the honks and voices of people trying to get through the rush, too. But my head is a stubborn little thing, eventually catching up as I realize what I’m doing.
I’m letting him drive me home. To my house. Where my child is.
Panic flares, and I do everything to keep it in. Then I dissect it until it’s obliterated, ending with a strong thought: that just because I let him drive me home doesn’t mean I’ll let him enter my home. It calms me down significantly as we finally get past the main hurdle and are driving down a smoother road.
“I thought you lived in Connecticut.”
His voice is cool and casual. I mirror it.
It’ll be okay. He won’t know anything.
“Yes, I did. I thought you lived there, too.”
He shakes his head. “It was a stopover. I was attending a conference.”
We don’t mention the bar, aware that we’re talking about the same day—aware that we’ve deliberately kept those details of our personal lives a secret when we met. “I see.”
Luke spares me a glance, then focuses on the road. “How long have you been in Brooklyn?”
“Three months. Just settling in.”
Please don’t ask me who I’m with.
“I see. You left Connecticut for this job?”
“Yes.”
The awkward conversation drifts off into more silence, one that I don’t know how to break. So I don’t. Instead, I sneak peeks at him when I know he isn’t looking, an act that’s more instinctive than anything.
He drives relaxed, the lab coat gone and his long-sleeve dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. My mouth goes dry when his arms flex while navigating the steering wheel, a movement that brings back a memory of him flexing them when he was trying not to flatten me with his weight…of those hips flexing, too, as he thrust in and out of me?—
Stop.
Damn it. I need to get laid. This has to be the result of years of deprivation, right?
“So, uh…where do you live?” I blurt it out mostly to try not to ogle him, but I’m also curious.
“Upper Manhattan.”
Shit. “What? Then you would have been home already!”
He shrugs. “Brooklyn isn’t too far. It’s still the same state.”
“It’s late.”
“I’m not that tired.”
“There are bags under your eyes, Dr. Jennings.”
Then a flash of irritation flickers in his eyes, though I’m not sure if it’s because I’m being deliberately combative or because of what I call him. He spares me another glance, but this one isn’t as casual.
“Didn’t you accept the ride offer, Miss Davis?”
“Only because I had no choice.”
“I didn’t twist your arm if that’s what you’re implying.”
“I never implied that.”
“Then what are you implying?”
“Nothing.”
I sound frustrated, I know. I feel frustrated. We lapse into silence again, but the atmosphere has shifted into something unbearable.
It sends a warning in my head and a thrum in my bones, one that I block repeatedly as it becomes achingly familiar. I should shut up, but the silence crawls on my skin until I can no longer take it.
“I just mean that you shouldn’t go out of your way for me.” I grit my teeth. “You owe me nothing.”
“I’m not doing this specifically for you. I drive my friends when they need a lift, too.”
Shot down. “I see.”
“Why are you so prideful?”
My mouth thins. “I’m just being practical.”
“It’s my goddamn car. I should decide what’s practical or not.”
He’s right. I’m a little embarrassed. I’m dictating things and being too paranoid when the man is just being thoughtful, but I can’t help it. I’m not ready for that kindness after getting used to the grumpy, arrogant man in the hospital—the one who, while it gets on my nerves, is easier to deal with.
The edge in his tone brushes over me until my nerves are frayed, but I hang on to dignity and finally have the semblance not to answer. Thankfully, he doesn’t say another word, either.
And I can’t wait for this damn car ride to be over.
When we arrive at my place, the lights on the upstairs windows are turned off and only a dim glow can be seen on the first floor. I sigh in relief. Then I square my shoulders and face Luke.
“Thanks for the ride. I appreciate it.”
His eyes sweep over the townhouse. “Nice place.”
I nod. “My mom’s friend owns it. She gave u—me—a decent rent price.”
My heart pounds at the close slip-up, but he doesn’t notice. Luke keeps studying the house, then the quiet neighborhood, before he turns to me. I expect a polite reply to my words before he’s off without another glance.
“I don’t know why you’re mad at me.”
Caught off guard, I gape at him. There’s a frustrated tinge to his statement, too, that gets to me because…seriously?
“You would really say that? After how you used the Dr. Grump strategy on me?”
“Dr. Grump?” His brows furrow, then clear. “Oh. The office gossip must have caught on.”
I don’t confirm, mostly because I don’t want to get the others in trouble. But I’m surprised that he knows about it and seems unfazed.
“I didn’t seek it out, by the way. I just heard.”
“I know you didn’t.”
Abort. Just get this over with.
“Anyway, I’m not mad at you. I just don’t think there’s anything connecting us anymore.”
It’s a polite statement to end the conversation, but it has the opposite effect as he only grows more frustrated. Angry, even.
“Right. Which must be why it was so easy for you to dump me.”
Shock flares. “Excuse me?”
“You sure were a good liar back then, Miss Davis, when you said all those sweet words and made me believe you wanted to see me again. I guess you just wanted one good fuck and to feel powerful for leading a guy on.”
What?
Realization slithers in that he’s talking about the past. My gaze narrows. “You were the one who dumped me.”
“What?”
“You gave me a fake number.”
His brows furrow again. “What?”
I scoff. Now I’m the one angry. “Oh, come off it with the pretense. You said all those sweet words, too, but you were the one who just wanted to get laid and discard me the next day?—?”
“That’s a fucking lie.” His voice is a growl. His eyes flash hot and furious. “What’s the number?”
“What does it matter now? It was the number of a restaurant.”
“I still have the number now.”
I open my mouth, but he recites it first. I frantically recall the number he gave me years ago—the one I tried to call three times—and a hint of familiarity kicks in.
“That’s the number…kind of.”
“Kind of?”
I shrug. “One digit off. Which was probably?—”
“Not deliberate. I wouldn’t do that.”
He looks so confused, which makes me confused, too. But my mind is reeling, already two steps ahead with the dawning comprehension that he must have inputted one digit wrong. I open my mouth, then close it, unsure what to say.
“I-If you say so.”
Warning bells ring in my head when his confusion clears and he gives me a sharp look.
“Also, unless you tried to call me, you wouldn’t know it was the number of a restaurant.”
It’s a challenge. I stiffen. “Maybe I tried to call you once.”
“I kept waiting.”
“What?”
“I extended my stay in Connecticut and waited for the call. I tried looking for you, too, but I just had your name. Liv. I didn’t even have Olivia.”
It’s like getting slapped with shock after shock, sending me reeling. Then my name on his lips—the name that he’s been avoiding to say for a while now—sends a tingle down my spine.
“I didn’t know that.” I swallow. “That you stayed.”
Meanwhile, I’ve been oblivious, not knowing that a few weeks later, I would be having the most life-altering moment of my life.
But it doesn’t change anything, right?
I still wasn’t able to contact him. I still did everything alone. That has to be a sign, right?
“I did.” Brown eyes meet mine. “And you wanted to call me. Because you still wanted me.”
I straighten my shoulders, the self-defense snapping into place. But my heart pounds hard and the rest of my body hums with the tension rapidly building in the small space. I swallow again, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.
“Years ago, yes, but that was…” Long ago. So much has changed, and yet, the look in his eyes is the same. “What are you looking at?”
His gaze is too much—like he sees too much.
“You still want me.”
It’s not a question. Desperation seizes me not to give myself away and I glare at him. “That’s a goddamn lie.”
Silence. Then he leans in, his face close to mine, breath so warm and ragged.
Eyes so dark and dangerous.
“Then say it to my face. Say you don’t want me anymore, Liv.”
This time, my name is like a caress to every sensitive part of my body, his voice so low and rough. I open my mouth to contest him, but a whimper gets stuck in my throat. Yet I still try.
“I don’t…this is ridiculous…stop looking at me like that.” Then, “Luke…”
It should be Dr. Jennings, not Luke. That’s my mistake—and it’s my downfall as his gaze turns molten before that mouth descends on mine.
Hunger hits me first. Then desire so strong spreads all over me, all coming from the kiss that devours me completely and leaves me weak and trembling. My hands reach up to push him, but they end up clinging to him as I kiss him back, responding to what I’m being given.
I swallow his groan and the next kiss. I gasp at the feel of his tongue, parting my lips so eagerly before he greedily sucks on my tongue. I bask in the feel of his hard, heavy body against mine, roaring with a heat that I want to sink into so badly.
I want to climb him like a tree. I want to lap him up until I can remember every inch again.
I desperately want to taste this man like he’s tasting me.
“Fuck. Goddamn it.”
His curse sends a thrill down my core. The faint clicks of our seatbelts register before I’m in his lap and he’s kissing me harder like he can’t get enough. Then his hands are everywhere, digging into my skin with so much familiarity—like he still knows the spots I like best and is determined to make me feel hotter.
I moan when he cups my breast over my shirt, then suck in a breath when I feel his erection against my thigh. It’s like a switch turning my brain off as my body responds instinctively, rocking against that erection until I can feel the rough friction against my pants. He hisses in response, then attacks my neck with fervor, cupping the back of my neck to help me arch into him.
“You smell so good, Liv.”
So does he, a combination of ocean and soap. I don’t know what to say, the desire working its way into my system and making it hard to think about anything other than wanting his touch.
“I didn’t give you a fake number, Liv.” He murmurs it against my ear, breath raspy. “I wanted to see you again, touch you again. I’ve dreamed about that night so many times.”
The words start a trembling inside me, my perception of that night and the days that followed shifting into something different. Shocking. But they also feed me with a thought, powerful and insistent.
This is wrong. This can’t happen. I’m in his car, about to do something reckless.
My daughter is sleeping inside, innocent, and this man, he’s my boss. He’s way older than me.
And I have a secret that he can’t know—because it will cost me my job and affect Riley in ways I can’t even fathom yet. I’m attracted to Luke. I want him.
But I don’t trust him yet with my child.
It’s that final musing that jerks me out of his arms, breaking the kiss and the maddeningly delicious contact. I take a deep breath, then another, until I’m back in the passenger seat and gripping the door handle.
“I…” Oh, God. Why can I still taste him? “I have to go. Goodnight, Dr. Jennings.”
Then I stumble out of the car and walk away without looking back.