Chapter 9
A week later, I found myself sandwiched between Finley and Matthew at a table, an achievement considering their hectic schedules. As we settled in and placed our orders, Finley launched into interrogation mode.
”What’s the deal with Oliver Fox? Are you two an item now?” Finley”s sharp gaze bore into me.
I took a sip of my drink, stalling for a moment before responding. ”Yeah, we are.”
Matthew, usually the quieter of the two, chimed in, ”Have you mentioned him to Mom and Anders?”
I shook my head. ”Not yet. And I’d prefer if neither of you spilled the beans.”
Finley leaned back, crossing his arms. ”It’s your life. But I still think he”s too old for you.”
I raised an eyebrow. ”Is it really his age that bothers you, or is there something else?”
Finley, always immersed in his business world, hesitated before replying. ”No, it’s not that. I just worry he might hurt you.”
I frowned. ”Why would he be any different from any other guy?”
”Because he’s been around the block a few more times than you,” Finley retorted. ”He”s got experience.”
”So, you’re saying I’m na?ve? A foolish girl who”s going to fall for the wrong man?” My voice held a hint of frustration.
Finley shook his head, exasperated. ”That’s not what I meant. Matthew, help me out here.”
Matthew raised his hands in surrender. ”I’m staying out of this one. You’re the one with the words.”
Finley sighed. ”Look, I just want what”s best for you. You seem to be stuck to this guy like glue.”
”Because I love him,” I declared, my heart swelling at the thought of Oliver.
My brothers exchanged surprised glances, their mouths agape. It had only been a month, but my feelings for Oliver were undeniable and deep.
”Does Oliver know that?” Matthew interjected, his brow furrowing with concern.
I nodded, a small smile playing on my lips. ”Yeah, he was the one who said it first.”
”You two are diving in headfirst,” Matthew remarked.
I shrugged. ”Why is that a problem?”
”It’s not, but it’s happening pretty fast. How long have you been together, two or three weeks?” Matthew inquired.
”A month,” I replied, trying to gauge their reactions.
Our conversation was momentarily interrupted by the arrival of our drinks. I had initially ordered an iced tea, but feeling the tension rise, I changed my mind and asked for a vodka cranberry. I needed something to take the edge off.
”I’m not thirteen anymore,” I muttered as I accepted the drink.
”We know that,” Finley said, his tone softening. ”But this isn’t some high school fling. He’s older.”
”I”m aware,” I replied, a hint of frustration creeping into my voice. ”I don’t give you grief about your random hookups.”
”They”re not random,” Finley protested. ”I know those women, and I’m not looking for anything serious. But what makes you think a catch like Oliver wants a committed relationship?”
”Because he told me he does, and I believe him,” I stated firmly.
My brothers exchanged skeptical glances, but before they could retort, Matthew shifted the conversation to a lighter topic, sharing details about a new client of his. I silently thanked him for the reprieve.
”Have you seen Ty lately?” Finley suddenly asked, changing the subject.
I hesitated, masking my unease. ”Not in a couple of weeks. He’s been swamped. The last time we met for lunch, he could barely keep his eyes open.”
”I should give him a call,” Finley mused.
”He could call you,” I pointed out.
”He’s busy,” Finley insisted.
I had been avoiding Ty because I feared he would press me about our father’s murder investigation again. I hadn’t divulged to my brothers that Ty was looking into it, and I didn’t plan to. They had moved on, but for me, it was still a raw wound, especially since they weren’t there when it happened.
As we savored our meal, the tension that had gripped us earlier gradually dissipated. We laughed, shared stories, and for a moment, it felt like old times. Just as we were wrapping up, Finley”s phone rang, pulling him back into the fast-paced world of his work.
With a resigned eye-roll, Finley hastily threw some bills on the table, planting a quick kiss on my cheek and clapping Matthew on the shoulder before darting off to address the urgent issue. Watching him go, I couldn’t help but notice the similarities between Finley and Oliver - both driven, focused, and always ready to leap into action when duty called.
“No more,” I panted, pushing Oliver’s head from between my legs. He had been more than generous tonight, giving me several orgasms. I didn’t want his tongue but he couldn’t seem to get enough of me.
“One more. You taste so good.”
“No more,” I repeated. “I need to sleep.”
Earlier that evening was the first time I sucked Oliver off. He was reluctant to let me do it but I insisted. I liked giving blowjobs. He felt he needed to repay me for what I did when I told him it wasn’t necessary. If we were keeping score, he gave me far more orgasms than I gave him.
”Are you sure?” Oliver”s voice was husky against my ear.
”You”re a wicked man,” I murmured, trying to catch my breath. ”Now stop before I pass out.”
He chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down my spine, before he climbed over my body, trailing kisses along my skin. I sighed contentedly as he suckled on my nipples before settling beside me, his head resting on my shoulder. I ran my fingers through his hair, tracing the stubble on his jaw.
”I had lunch with my brothers today,” I said, breaking the comfortable silence.
”Is that where you disappeared to while I was at the office?” Oliver teased.
I nodded. ”Sadie”s been spending a lot of time with Dan. They argue constantly, and I”m worried it might not be just a phase.”
”Maybe they”re just not compatible,” Oliver suggested.
”Sadie wants it to work,” I explained. ”She didn”t have an easy upbringing like me. Money means a lot to her.”
”She shouldn”t settle for someone just because they have money,” Oliver remarked firmly.
”I agree, but I”ve given up on arguing with her about it. I don”t want to strain our relationship.”
”What did your brothers have to say?” Oliver inquired, his tone shifting.
”They”re worried you”ll break my heart,” I confessed, a hint of vulnerability creeping into my voice.
Oliver”s gaze softened as he reached for my hand. ”I would never. You mean too much to me.”
”We fell so far, so fast,” I admitted. ”Doesn”t it worry you that we”ll burn out?”
He lifted his head to meet my gaze. ”Do you think that?”
”I worry sometimes,” I admitted.
”Don”t,” Oliver said firmly. ”It won”t happen. I love you. You”re the first woman I”ve ever thought about a future with.”
I swallowed, deeply touched by his words. ”Wasn”t there anyone before me that you considered marrying?”
”My life was consumed by my business,” Oliver confessed. ”Sure, I had dates, but none as captivating as you.”
”So I”m interesting now?” I teased, a smile playing on my lips.
”Very,” Oliver replied with a smirk. ”You keep me entertained in more ways than one.”
He nipped at my shoulder playfully, leaving his mark, before the conversation shifted again.
”I need to start working out again,” Oliver remarked casually. ”You make me lazy.”
”Your body looks great,” I assured him. ”Maybe I should borrow your trainer,” I mused.
Oliver”s firm declaration sliced through the air like a knife. ”Absolutely not.”
”Why?” I countered, my voice laced with frustration.
”Bronson is a smooth talker. He”d try to charm you out of your panties, and he”s good-looking enough to pull it off,” Oliver explained, his tone tinged with concern.
”Do you honestly think I”d fall for that with my legs in the air? You don”t give me much credit,” I shot back, feeling a surge of annoyance.
”I”m pretty sure it wouldn”t happen, but just in case, you stay away from him,” Oliver insisted, his words hanging in the air.
I flung my legs over the edge of the bed, seething at Oliver”s implication that I was so easily swayed. When his hand touched my back, I recoiled, a surge of anger coursing through me.
”You”re an asshole,” I spat out, rising abruptly and fleeing to the bathroom, slamming the door shut before Oliver could follow.
Inside the bathroom, I turned on the faucet in the tub, the sound of running water offering a fleeting sense of solace. I dumped in some lime basil bath beads, hoping the soothing scent would calm my frayed nerves.
As I waited for the tub to fill, Oliver”s persistent knocks on the door grated on my nerves.
”Come on, Ryleigh. I”m sorry,” his voice pleaded from the other side.
”You”re a dick. Just leave me alone. I need a bath,” I retorted, my anger still burning bright.
Finally, the knocking ceased, and I sank into the warm water, trying to find some semblance of peace. But even as I closed my eyes, the memory of Oliver”s lack of trust gnawed at me.
The bathroom door creaked open, and I tensed; my anger reignited at the sight of a naked Oliver standing there.
”Get out. I”m so pissed at you right now,” I snapped, turning my face away from him, unwilling to meet his gaze.
But despite my protest, Oliver approached and sat on the edge of the tub, his presence unwelcome yet strangely comforting.
”Let me sit behind you,” he pleaded softly, his tone laced with remorse.
”Do you understand that I want to be alone?” I demanded, my voice tinged with venom.
”I want to talk about this. I made a mistake,” Oliver admitted, his words hanging heavy in the air.
“You act like I’m some dummy. Why is it that you men think I can’t make a rational moral decision?”
”I don”t think that. I don”t trust any other men around you, now move forward,” Oliver urged gently.
Reluctantly, I shuffled forward, allowing Oliver to settle behind me in the tub. He eased himself into the water and pulled me back between his legs. I leaned back against his chest, his arms encircling me as he began to massage my shoulders. Despite my lingering anger, I couldn”t deny the comfort his touch brought me.
He bent down to kiss my neck, his lips trailing to my ear as he whispered, ”I”m sorry.”
”Oliver, you need to trust me. I love you, and I would never jeopardize our relationship,” I asserted, my voice soft but firm.
”I know. It was a lapse in judgment. I never should’ve said it,” he admitted, his fingers moving from my shoulders to my breasts, where he began to knead and caress, sending shivers down my spine.
”Don”t think sex is getting you out of the doghouse,” I warned teasingly, though a part of me was tempted to give in to his advances.
”I”ll do anything. I don”t like when we”re at odds. Can I buy you something?” he offered, his voice earnest.
”So if there was a time to get anything I want, it”s now?” I teased, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
”Anything, just pick,” he replied without hesitation.
”I only want your love,” I responded, sincerity coloring my words.
”You have it,” he assured me, his tone filled with warmth.
”On second thought, I”ve decided what I want,” I declared, a mischievous glint in my eyes.
”What?” he asked, curiosity piqued.
”Breakfast in bed,” I announced.
”What time? I can set it up tonight,” Oliver offered eagerly.
”No, I mean I want you to cook for me,” I clarified, a playful smirk dancing on my lips.
”You know it”s not a problem. I can cook, but I prefer to order so we can spend time together,” he countered.
”We will, after you cook me breakfast,” I insisted, a hint of challenge in my voice.
He sighed in resignation. ”Very well.”
I turned to face him, straddling him in the water and reaching for his semi-erect cock. But he pushed my hand away, a teasing glint in his eyes.
“No. I want to give you pleasure.”
“You will if you let me ride you.”
We didn’t have penetrative sex this evening, instead opting for oral sex. I needed to feel Oliver inside me, and I held him steady as I sank down to his root. I rode him as we shared deep, soulful kisses that were full of meaning. I knew he loved me hard, and I loved him just as much.
After our lovemaking, Oliver slipped out of the tub and turned on the shower to rinse off the bubbles clinging to our skin. We took our time, washing each other tenderly before wrapping ourselves in fluffy towels and heading to the kitchen for a late-night snack. My stomach rumbled in anticipation as I stood in front of the open refrigerator, surveying the contents.
As I rummaged through the containers, searching for my favorite crab salad, Oliver came up behind me, his hands wandering to cup my ass. I chuckled as I found what I was looking for, feeling his warm touch.
”Big surprise,” he murmured teasingly.
”Can you unhand my posterior, please?” I replied, a playful glint in my eyes.
”Suppose I say no?” he teased back, his grip tightening slightly.
”Then I”ll have to dole out some punishment,” I retorted with a smirk.
His grin widened as he released me. ”I like your punishments.”
”I bet you do. Now, about breakfast tomorrow,” I said, shifting the conversation.
”What would you like?” he asked, his tone attentive.
I described my craving for silver dollar pancakes and Canadian bacon, accompanied by a toasted cinnamon raisin bagel with jelly and butter.
”Is that all? Perhaps I should squeeze you some fresh orange juice,” he suggested, his lips curling into a playful smile.
”That sounds lovely, but I prefer it without pulp,” I replied, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him back.
”You”re really making me pay for what I said, aren”t you?” Oliver chuckled, shaking his head in mock exasperation.
”Yes. Maybe you”ll choose your words more carefully next time,” I replied, flashing him a mischievous smile as I grabbed a fork from the silverware drawer.
I shared the salad with Oliver; only one fork was needed since I fed him. He held me when we went to bed, stroking my hair until I fell asleep.
I was roused from my sleep the next morning by the sound of Oliver banging the edge of a tray against the bedroom door. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, I watched as he approached the bed, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
”Yummy, I”m starved,” I mumbled, sitting up as he placed the large wooden tray beside me. On it were two plates piled with everything I had requested, along with a carafe of freshly squeezed blood orange juice and a steaming mug of coffee. Oliver settled next to me, and I narrowed my eyes suspiciously.
”You didn”t make this,” I accused, eyeing him skeptically.
”I certainly did. I got up an hour ago,” he insisted, his grin widening.
I knew he was lying. ”So, if I go in the kitchen, I”ll find all the utensils and pans you used?”
”No, I cooked, washed, and dried everything already. It”s in the cabinet,” he countered smoothly.
”You”re such a bad liar,” I teased, though I couldn”t help but admire his effort.
”I was busy this morning. I had a phone call with Hong Kong,” he defended himself.
”So you ordered in?” I pressed, raising an eyebrow.
”You said breakfast, and I provided it,” he replied with a shrug.
Despite my slight annoyance, I couldn”t resist the temptation of the delicious spread before me. I cut into one of the pancakes, savoring the warm syrup that I dipped it in. Forgiveness came easily with each bite.
”I”ll do my penance some other way,” Oliver offered, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
”How?” I inquired, curious despite myself.
Oliver took a sip of his juice before responding, ”How about I buy you something? I saw a beautiful ruby tennis bracelet at a jeweler in midtown.”
”I told you I don”t need you to buy me things,” I reminded him firmly.
”Your birthday is at the end of the month; call it an early birthday present,” he suggested.
”Then buy it for my birthday or not at all,” I said.
”I want to buy you something,” Oliver insisted, his gaze unwavering.
”Take me to the park and buy me an ice cream,” I proposed, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
”Is that what you want to do for today?” Oliver asked, leaning in to plant a kiss on my lips, his touch lingering.
”That sounds like fun. It”s where I saw you when I was walking Blackie. I thought you looked so good in your running attire,” I admitted, a blush creeping onto my cheeks.
He chuckled softly, his breath warm against my skin. ”Don”t.”
”Why not?” I protested weakly, feeling myself succumbing to his charm.
”Because we won”t get to the park if you continue,” he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement. ”Spending a Sunday in bed with you sounds perfect. I vote for choice two,” his tone suggestive.
”Tough. We”re going to the park, and I expect you to show me a good time,” I replied, determined.
I chuckled as I took a bite of my bagel.
We strolled through the park, Vlad trailing a few steps behind us, his presence casting a slight shadow over our otherwise idyllic day. I couldn”t shake the feeling of unease, wondering why Oliver felt the need for security in such a peaceful setting. He garnered plenty of looks, mostly from women, but it seemed like few recognized him despite his appearances in magazines and television interviews.
”Why does Vlad have to be with us?” I finally voiced my curiosity.
”He”s my security. You never know who might be around,” Oliver replied casually.
”Do you deal with terrorists or something?” I teased, unable to resist a smirk.
”Of course not, but I”m worth quite a bit. Security is necessary,” he explained, his tone serious.
”You sound arrogant again,” I teased, though I couldn”t hide the affection in my voice.
Oliver pulled me closer, planting a kiss on the top of my head before indulging me with a chocolate éclair ice cream bar and a leisurely stroll to Central Park Lake. In that moment, happiness enveloped me, and I knew Oliver was the reason for it all.
By the time we returned to his apartment, the fatigue of the day settled in, and I began to pack my belongings into my small duffel bag. It was time to head home and prepare for work the next day.
”You know you can leave things here. I have plenty of room in my closet,” Oliver offered, his voice soft with sincerity.
”Do I get a drawer too?” I teased lightly.
”You can have several. The dresser on the right side of the closet is empty. Bring whatever you want. In fact, maybe we should talk about more permanent arrangements,” he suggested, his words catching me off guard.
”What are you talking about?” I asked, my stomach twisting with anxiety.
”I want you to move in with me,” Oliver declared, his gaze unwavering.
The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and I struggled to find the right response. Our relationship was moving at lightning speed, and the thought of such a significant commitment made my head spin.
”No, Oliver. You”re moving too fast,” I finally managed to voice my hesitation.
”I”m moving fast because you”re my future,” he insisted, his tone earnest.
”It”s too much for me. Maybe we should spend time apart at night,” I suggested, trying to alleviate the pressure building inside me.
His frown deepened, and he raised his voice slightly. ”That”s not what I want. I do everything a hundred times better when we”re together.”
”Oliver, relax. We”re not breaking up. I just need time to myself,” I reassured him, hoping to ease his concerns.
”It sounds like you want to break up,” he accused, his voice tinged with hurt.
”I don”t. I love you, but moving in so soon is crazy. You haven”t even met my family. My parents don”t even know I”m dating you,” I confessed, the weight of my words heavy on my heart.
”Why? Why haven”t you told them?” Oliver pressed, his frustration evident.
”I just haven”t. They would say the same thing if I told them how intense we are together. It”s too much,” I admitted, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me.
“So you want space? Is that what you’re saying?” Oliver’s voice was laced with concern as he sought clarification.
“I think so. I feel pressured to make you happy,” I admitted, my words heavy with uncertainty.
“Ryleigh, I want you to know that I want no one else but you,” Oliver assured me, his sincerity evident.
“I feel the same, but you’re pushing me too soon,” I confessed, feeling the weight of my words settle between us.
I hastily shoved the rest of my belongings into my bag and zipped it up, avoiding Oliver”s gaze. He sat on the corner of his bed, chewing on his bottom lip in silence, his turmoil evident.
“You’re not staying with me tonight?” he asked, his voice tinged with disappointment.
“No. I haven’t been home since Friday. I have some things to do, and I need to spend time with Sadie,” I explained, trying to keep my tone firm.
“I’ll have Vlad take you home,” Oliver insisted, his concern palpable.
“I think I can manage on my own,” I replied, feeling the need for independence.
“I insist. In fact, I’d like to see you home,” he pressed, his tone becoming more insistent.
“No. Stop smothering me,” I snapped.
“Jesus Christ, I’m not smothering. I care about you,” Oliver protested, frustration creeping into his voice.
“If you do, then give me some space to think,” I pleaded, hoping he would understand.
“I don’t want to lose you,” Oliver confessed, his vulnerability laid bare.
“You’re not. I just need some time to sort my head out,” I assured him, my heart aching at the thought of hurting him.
I picked up my bag, and he followed me out to the foyer. Pushing me against the door, he kissed me fiercely, his desperation evident. Despite my attempts to resist, I found myself giving in to him, his touch stirring up a tumult of conflicting emotions within me.
“I love you,” he whispered as he broke the kiss.
“I know,” I whispered back, my voice barely audible as I walked out the door, leaving Oliver behind. Tears stung my eyes as I pressed the elevator button, feeling the weight of my decision settling over me. Oliver watched me until I disappeared into the car, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
As Vlad drove me to my apartment, I tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. But as soon as I was safely inside, the floodgates opened, and I sobbed uncontrollably, grappling with the turmoil of emotions raging inside me. I was torn between wanting to accept everything Oliver offered and the desire to maintain my independence. It was a conflict I couldn”t seem to resolve, and for now, space seemed like the only answer.