Chapter Seventeen
Austin
“T ell me about your family.”
Such an innocent request. How could she know it’s so loaded?
Her sweet eyes peering up from my chest, the warmth of her body is transferring to mine, like our bodies are molding together.
If we stay here long enough, we'll become one big fused blob, and nothing would make me happier. I feel...cozy, calm, fucking peaceful. Sure, it might be because I’ve just had the best sex of my life with the girl I’ve been fantasizing about for two years, but in my heart, I know it’s more than that.
She’s more than that. It’s how I knew, when she told me to chloroform myself, that this was going to work out okay.
It’s how I knew that if I just gave her a little space and continued showing up, she’d see it, too.
I trail my fingertips up and down her shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
She’s quiet, waiting for me to answer, and I fight the urge to fidget uncomfortably.
“I’m not sure you want to hear about my fucked-up family, Killer.” I feel her cheek pull against my chest, and she nuzzles in, inhaling deeply.
“I really do, actually.”
Fuck.
I can’t say no, but god, I don’t want to scare her off. She knows a little, but there’s no way she knows everything.
“I have a brother,” I eventually admit .
“I knew that. He’s older, right?”
“Yep.” I let the “p” pop.
“Do you get along well?”
“You know the answer to that already, Killer.”
I feel her cheek pull again, her fingers dance across my chest, and I feel the tightness loosen. Here goes nothing.
“We were pitted against each other. Our dad thought it would make us tougher. Really, it just made us suspicious of each other. I didn’t realize how abnormal that was until I saw you and Danny together.”
“Not all siblings get along, Austin. It’s okay. I know people who hate their brothers.”
I nod, continuing to stroke her, and my shoulders melt into the mattress a little more.
Maybe this bed can mold to us too. Not that long ago, I thought the basement mattress was comfortable, but it’ll never top this.
Having Olivia in my arms after fucking each other senseless. You can’t buy that level of comfort.
I want to tell her more. But I’m not sure she can handle it.
“What about your father? He’s the boss, right?”
Usually, when a woman asks about my father, my spidey senses are on high alert. There’s nothing more suspicious than someone sleeping with me and then asking questions about The Organization. But with Olivia, I know she’s just trying to understand me.
“He’s a bad man, baby.” I kiss the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. “Let’s not talk about him here.”
“You can talk to me, though. Outside of this little cocoon.” She lifts her chin, her face neutral.
I feel my dick twitch. Fuck, I’m ready to go again.
The curve of her hip is accentuated by her leg draping over my thigh.
Her waist dips low, and I trail my eyes along the ridge of her side before taking in her luscious round tits.
If there is a god, they should have just stopped with her. She’s perfect .
Her eyebrow arches. I smirk, taking in all her glory. Her lips part as she goes to speak, but I flip her over, pushing her shoulder into the mattress. A half-moan, half-yelp releases from her lips.
“Are you trying to find out all my secrets, Killer?” I let my voice drop an octave.
She bites her lip for me. “You know all of mine. It seems only fair,” she whispers.
I push my hard cock against her as she widens her legs for me. “Not yet, but I will.
◆◆◆
Olivia gets out of bed at the ass crack of dawn. She is already showered, buffed, and polished, all before I roll out of bed. My lazy days in the basement seem to have gotten me out of my rigid routines.
Her lilac gym gear is her outfit choice for the day as she does a little morning yoga, treating me to a view of her perfect ass.
“You could join me, you know,” she huffs, lifting her arm straight as she twists, face tilted toward the ceiling’s panel moldings.
“I’m good here, baby . . . so good.”
She glances over to see me leaning on my elbow, watching her like my own personalized show. I give her a small wink, and she laughs, losing her balance.
“So tonight, we’re meeting with Nicole, right?
” I ask, knowing full well that’s the case.
I’ve had Luca run a background check on her, the guy working at her stall, and her company.
They are all legit, seemingly charming people.
My instincts were right the first time I saw how protectively the guy, Josh, stood by the pint-sized Nicole.
“Yeah, she owns the brand I’m most looking forward to working with. Her outfits are kind of country chic. There are tassels and sparkles, which makes it fun to work out in. I’m excited to get to know her a little better. Although I’m not sure Josh is coming. I’ll text her to ask.”
My guess is Josh isn’t going to let Nicole out of his sight, but that’s just one man’s opinion.
The evening rolls around quicker than I expect. Olivia has another long day of meeting brands and giving talks as well as attending a few lectures on social media trends and business planning.
She returns to the hotel around four-thirty. Our dinner reservation is for eight, so we have a little time. But as much as I want to pounce her the second she’s back, I have plans.
The massage tables are set up in the living room—two, one for each of us.
I have no doubt that Olivia’s version of self-care is actually after-care.
She’s been busy taking care of Danny for so long now.
With her parents gone, who’s been looking after her?
She is so strong and independent—someone who works fucking hard to get shit done.
But she’s mine to take care of now. What’s the point in having money if you can’t spend it where it counts?
A snick of the door follows the buzz of the keycard. The soft spa music is playing over the low lights, ready for her to relax as soon as she steps in.
“Austin?”
“Hey, Killer.”
I step up, taking her bag and phone, placing them on the side table before taking her by the hand. I lead her into the living area, where Janie and Chris are waiting patiently.
“What’s this?”
“You’ve been working so hard. I thought we could have a little downtime before heading out tonight. What do you think?”
She turns to face Janie and Chris before leaning into me. “Do I get the big burly man?”
I practically growl into her ear. “The only burly man touching you is me. Unless you want Janie’s hands all over me?”
She frowns, assessing Janie for a second before shaking her head.
“I didn’t think so. Now, head into the bedroom and get your robe on, woman. For god's sake, don't let me see you undressing or the two best massage therapists in L.A. will have been hired for no goddamn reason.”
She giggles, skipping into the bedroom. She sticks her tongue out at me over her shoulder before clicking the door shut. A part of me is disappointed, but the other half is fucking grateful. We’re on a tight schedule as it is, and I want this to be perfect for her.
◆◆◆
Fuck. Me.
Chris is kneading my muscles like I’m a lump of dough. My muscles are no match for his weapons of choice. His forearms slide over my skin. His thumbs find every lump and bump in my knotted muscles. I don't realize how tense I am until this man puts his hands on me.
I glance over at Olivia a few times, and Janie is giving her something much more in line with what I thought I’d get: therapeutic, relaxing, fucking calm.
But no, Chris is taking the “let’s beat the soreness out of him” approach.
It doesn’t help that Olivia’s soft moans are all I can hear until I cry out, and she starts to giggle.
“Too much, sir?”
“No, no, perfect Chris. Just what I need.”
Don’t want to anger him more.
Olivia opens up one eye. She’s obviously noticed my pained expression as she tries to hold in more giggles.
God, she’s cute. I’d let Chris blend me into a smoothie every day if it kept her laughing.
After they leave, I pop open a bottle of champagne. Olivia starts getting ready as I hand her a glass.
“You know I could get used to this,” she murmurs softly, expertly lining her eyes kohl black. Her lips part every time: the eye shadow, the eyeliner, the mascara. And I’m not talking softly parted; her mouth is gaping open.
“What the fuck is going on with your face right now?”
“Don’t make me laugh, you brute. You’ll ruin my makeup.” She chuckles, trying to keep her mouth closed at the end.
“Okay, okay, I’ll leave you be. But we need to leave soon.”
“No worries. I’m basically done.”
“Okay, I’ll call the car now. I’m guessing I need to be on my best behavior tonight?” I smirk.
She gives me a pointed look. “Yes, no mention of how we met.”
“We met in a juice bar,” I say, deadpan.
“Okay, no mention of the whole kidnapping thing.”
“Why would I want anyone to know you Ted Bundy’d me?”
“Ted Bundy’d you?”
“Yeah, you lured me to your car under false pretenses. I’m just glad you so politely asked me to chloroform myself and didn’t hit me around the head with a baseball bat. I’ve never seen you swing, but you’re strong as fuck; I wouldn’t rate my chances.”
She smiles, gazing up at the ceiling for a split second. And this. This is why I like her so fucking much. Because I’m telling her I have no doubt she could beat the shit out of me, and she looks so fucking pleased about it.
“No mention of Ted Bundy, please,” she eventually says, throwing her phone and lipstick into an obscenely tiny handbag.
I salute. “Scout’s honor.”
“You weren’t a Boy Scout.” She eyes me suspiciously.
I smile. Of course I wasn’t a Boy Scout. Had there been a henchman boys club, my father would have sent me there. Unfortunately, that sounds a little too Hitler Youth, even for my dad’s monstrous tastes.