Chapter 25
I couldn’t sleep, and it was all Oliver’s fault. The throbbing between my legs hadn’t subsided, even after a cool shower. I was debating whether to resurrect my vibrator, but the batteries were probably dead since it had been so long. I just hadn’t felt like sex until now. My body was a raging fire, and I kicked off the sheets, disturbing Trouble, who was sleeping against my legs.
He grumbled and jumped off the bed, settling in his spot near the dresser. I turned on my side and glanced at the clock—2:14 a.m. At this rate, I would be a zombie when it was time to wake up. I felt around the nightstand for my phone and tapped out a message to Oliver.
I know you’re not awake, but I can’t stop thinking about you.
I was very surprised when I heard my phone ping with an incoming text. I checked, and it was a reply from him.
And I can’t stop thinking of you. Come over.
I smiled because it meant that I got to him as badly as he had me. But I wasn’t giving in that easily, even though I wanted to.
It’s two in the morning, and I’ll have to get dressed.
My phone rang a few seconds later. I answered, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation.
“Hello?” I whispered.
“I can send Vlad for you,” Oliver’s deep voice rumbled through the phone. “You can come in your robe.”
“That’s crazy. I still have to walk through the lobby. And give that poor man a break. He’s probably sleeping,” I protested, imagining the look on Vlad’s face.
“I pay him to be available at all hours of the day or night,” Oliver replied, a hint of impatience in his tone.
“For security, not to play chauffeur for your sex games,” I countered, rolling my eyes.
“Sex games?” he echoed, sounding offended. “Sex is not a game to me. I want to make love to you in the worst way. I have for weeks. I told you, my bed is empty without you. Only you can fill the space.”
I was losing my resolve. I had to be strong. “Be that as it may, it will have to wait until I’m ready.”
He sounded like he was walking, “And when will that be?”
“I haven’t decided.”
He lowered his voice and beyond, I heard a car horn. “Tell me the truth. Do you want me as much as I want you? I bet your panties are wet just thinking about what I can do with my tongue and fingers.”
Not just your tongue and fingers.
“My panties are just fine.” I heard a car horn in the background and then the clank as something shut, closing out any other sounds.”
“Where the hell are you?” I expected him to say that he was on his terrace or patio.”
“Unlock the door, Ryleigh,” he demanded.
My heart rate picked up, pounding in my chest. “Excuse me?”
There was no way he was at my door. We hadn’t been talking all that long and I couldn’t imagine he could get to my building so fast. But the thought was thrilling that this man would come to me.
“Unlock the door. Or should I get the master key from the concierge?” he growled.
“You’re here? How did you get here so fast?”
“I left the minute you texted me. It’s only a few blocks.”
“You’re here?” I squeaked again.
“I’m getting off the elevator. Don’t make me bang on the door.”
I practically jumped out of bed, not caring that I was wearing skimpy panties and a t-shirt that was his. I took it when I packed up my clothes because it had his scent. As angry as I was at him, I still loved Oliver. I didn’t want it to end but he gave me no choice. Now here he was asking to start over.
When I opened the door, he was standing there dressed in a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt. His hair was tousled, and scruff had grown on his face since I saw him earlier. He was breathing heavily as if he ran up a few flights of stairs. I backed away as he came through the door.
Trouble barked a few times at our visitor, but when he saw who it was, he trotted off to another bed near the pantry and settled down. Oliver entered, dropping his keys and phone into a bowl on the small table in the entryway. His eyes locked onto mine, and without a word, he pushed me against the wall, pressing his lips hard against mine.
I moaned as his tongue invaded my mouth, and I sucked on it, our hands roaming each other’s bodies with a desperate intensity. The need for him was overwhelming, but I knew from past experience that he wouldn’t give in so easily. Oliver loved to tease and test me, driving me wild with desire until I was on the brink of madness. And I was already there—I was so crazed I would do anything for him to take me.
With a swift motion, he lifted me in his arms and carried me to the bedroom, placing me gently on the mattress. As he pulled off his shirt and shorts, I couldn’t help but notice his erection, begging for attention. But Oliver wouldn’t rush; he never did. He was determined to ensure my satisfaction first.
He grasped my lace panties and tugged, the fabric tearing easily in his hands. He discarded the pieces on the floor, roughly spread my legs and pushing my shirt up to expose my breasts. His hands were firm and demanding, igniting a fire within me.
“Sit up. I want this shirt off,” he commanded, his voice low and intense. He paused, a curious look crossing his face. “Is this my shirt?”
I felt my face heat up. “Yes. I took it. I needed something of yours even though I was so pissed at you.”
He smirked, a glint of possessiveness in his eyes. “You don’t need mementos of me. You have me. This is forever.”
“You said that once before,” I whispered, my voice tinged with vulnerability.
“I was a fool,” he admitted, his eyes softening. “But not anymore.”
His words, filled with sincerity, melted the last of my resistance. This time, I believed him.
“You’ll get no argument from me,” I said, sitting up. Oliver pulled my shirt off over my head, tossing it aside with my shredded panties. His body pressed against mine before he rolled us, positioning me on top. Our lips met again, and I explored the firm muscles of his arms with my fingers as I wiggled my hips against his erection, feeling its hardness sandwiched between us. The desire to have him inside me was overwhelming.
“Don’t, Ryleigh. I’m not ready for that yet,” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint.
“I am,” I insisted. “I want you inside me.”
“Tough,” he replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “I want intimacy first.”
In a swift move, he rolled us again, and I was back underneath him.
“Why did you do that?” I asked, frustration creeping into my voice.
“Because I don’t trust you,” he said, his tone playful yet serious.
I laughed, shaking my head. “You think I’ll maneuver so you’re inside me? You forget, you’re ten times as strong as I am and outweigh me by at least seventy pounds.”
“If you succeed, I’ll never be able to resist. Do you know how badly I want to fuck you?” he asked, his eyes dark with need.
“Then do it and stop worrying about intimacy. We have plenty of time for it, and fucking is intimate. It’s about as intimate as you can get,” I argued.
“I don’t agree,” he countered, his voice gentle but firm. “I think we can be intimate just kissing and touching.”
“So, I have to wait?” I huffed, rolling my eyes.
“Yes, and I want you to be patient about it too.”
“Jerk,” I muttered.
“But you love this jerk,” he said, smirking. “Now be quiet because you’re ruining the mood.”
I couldn’t help but smile as he lifted off me and began to suckle my nipples. Each little nibble and lash of his tongue had my belly clenching so hard it hurt. My clit throbbed, and I was sure I was dripping by now. Oliver’s seduction was relentless, and I was more than ready for him.
“Please, Oliver,” I begged, my voice breaking.
“Be patient,” he replied, his lips curving into a wicked grin.
He nibbled the flesh just below my breast, slowly making his way down my body with kisses and nips. I writhed beneath him, frustration and desire building as he ignored my pleas. When he reached my navel, he swirled his tongue around it before trailing a line to my hairless mound. His touch was both torturous and exquisite, leaving me desperate for more.
“You smell so good,” Oliver murmured, his breath hot against my skin.
I said nothing, holding my breath and hoping his teasing would stop. I was desperate to come, whether by his tongue or his cock. His lips traced a path to my thighs, biting my taut flesh and leaving teeth marks. He sat up, kneading my calves, then slowly made his way up again.
“Are you ready, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice low and seductive.
“Ready for what?” I panted, my body trembling with anticipation.
With a swift motion, he spread my legs and thrust his tongue inside my soaked channel. We moaned in unison, the sound vibrating through both of us. I was overwhelmed by the sensation, and he groaned in delight, savoring my taste.
“Christ, I forgot how delicious you were,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire.
“Please…” I begged, my voice barely a whisper.
“You’re very greedy tonight,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“I haven’t had sex in almost four months,” I admitted, my desperation evident.
“I’m glad to know no one else has touched you,” he said, his tone possessive.
“Possessive asshole,” I murmured just before he removed his tongue and took a giant lick of my clit.
The sensation sent shivers through me, and I clenched the sheets as he continued. His tongue worked with skill and precision, driving me to the brink. It didn’t take long; I was already on edge. Within moments, I broke apart, arching my back hard enough to cause a spasm.
Oliver held me through the waves of pleasure, his touch grounding me. As I came down from the high, I looked into his eyes, seeing a mixture of satisfaction and longing.
"You are super sexy when you come," Oliver said, his voice filled with admiration.
I laughed softly. "I doubt that."
I glanced down at his erection, then back at him. "Would you like to do something about your problem?" I asked, gesturing to his obvious arousal.
"In due time," he replied with a smile. "I'd like to cuddle you for a while."
Without waiting for my response, he crawled up the bed, placing his head in the crook of my shoulder and pulling me against him. The warmth of his body was comforting.
"I love you, Ryleigh. I love you so much," he whispered, his voice tender and sincere.
"I love you too," I whispered back, feeling a deep sense of contentment.
We lay there for a while, the room filled with the sound of our breathing. Eventually, I turned on my side to face him. Oliver pressed me against his body, his touch gentle yet possessive. Minutes passed in a quiet intimacy before he slipped his leg over my hip and thrust inside my slick channel.
We had never had sex this way before, but I liked it. I kept my head buried against his sweat-misted chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Oliver moved with gentle strokes, his touch both tender and commanding. When I came a second time, he paused, letting me catch my breath before starting again.
By the time we finished in a simultaneous orgasm—my third and his first—I was spent. All the anger and frustration I had felt melted away, replaced by the tenderness of our lovemaking.
He slipped out of me and pushed me to my back, wrapping his arm around my waist. I somehow worked the sheet over us, and we both fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. If I had dreamed that night, I was sure it would have been pleasant.
Oliver was still next to me when I woke up. When we were last together, it was usually his way to get up before me for an early morning workout. I propped my head on my hand and watched him slumber. He startled me when he said my name.
“Mrs. Fox, are you watching me sleep?”
This felt so normal, like there was never a separation between us but it was only temporary. Anxiety gnawed at my belly. We had a lot of hurdles to overcome before we were solid.
“I didn’t know you were awake,” I said, my voice soft in the morning stillness.
“I have been for the past half hour,” Oliver replied, his eyes meeting mine with a calm intensity.
“I expected you to be up before me,” I remarked, raising an eyebrow.
“Why?”
“You usually work out. I do have a gym in this building, you know.”
“I’m aware, since I own it,” he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
“Why did you buy this building?” I asked, curiosity tinging my voice.
“That’s a silly question. You should know the answer.”
“Because you wanted to stalk me?” I teased.
“No,” he said, his expression turning serious. “I wanted to keep you safe.”
My stomach churned at his words. “Why? Am I in danger?”
“As long as you’re attached to me, you will be. I’m high profile.”
“But we were getting a divorce,” I said, confusion and concern mixing in my tone.
“You’re still a bargaining chip, even if you would be my ex-wife. Now you’re not.”
“Nah, I think I’d like to go through with the divorce. Thank you for the sex,” I said, trying to mask my anxiety with nonchalance.
In an instant, Oliver was on top of me, his morning erection pressed against my hip. He pinned my wrists above my head with a steely grip.
“I’ve already spoken to my lawyer. There will be no divorce,” he declared, his eyes flashing with determination.
My brows knitted together. “How the fuck could you speak to your lawyer? It’s Saturday, and I hadn’t made up my mind,” I retorted, frustration boiling over.
It didn’t surprise me. Oliver had so many connections and he often had people working when they didn’t normally work. Knowing him, he had the attorney on retainer twenty four seven.
“I knew you would say yes. I made a preemptive strike,” he said confidently.
“That was mighty presumptuous of you. Suppose I only wanted you for a quick fuck,” I challenged, my heart pounding.
“I already told you, sex between us is never quick, and I presumed because it was obvious you didn’t want a divorce. You forget I read people for a living,” he said, his voice calm and assured.
He shifted my wrists into one of his hands, stroking my face with the other. “This is forever. I told you that.”
“So you did,” I said, my voice softening. “I have something to tell you, and I hope you don’t freak out.”
His face tightened, wrinkles forming on his forehead. “I hope it’s not bad news,” he said, his voice filled with concern.
“It all depends how you look at it,” I said, my voice trembling slightly.
Oliver released my wrists and sat back on his haunches between my legs, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. “Just say it and get it over with,” he urged.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “We had sex, and I’m not on anything. I stopped taking my pills when we broke up.”
He stared at me, his expression unreadable. “I don’t see a problem,” he said calmly.
“Oliver, I could get pregnant,” I said, my heart pounding.
“As I said, I don’t see a problem,” he repeated, his eyes softening.
“I thought we could ease into talking about having children,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
He leaned forward, cupping my face gently in his hands. “Ryleigh, I’ve always wanted a family with you. If this happens now, it happens. We’ll face it together.”
I looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of doubt, but found none. His confidence and sincerity calmed the storm of emotions inside me.
“I’m not running if you end up pregnant. I can’t. I had a lot of time to think while we were separated. I want children. You’re my wife and I love you. I told you it was selfish of me to do what I did. We’re in this marriage together.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that because I’m in the mood for another round.”
He grinned. “I think I can accommodate you with your request.”
We spent all of Sunday making love, only leaving for food and a quick shower. As the sun began to sink in the sky, I asked Oliver what our plan was for moving back in together.
"We’re not together only by location. You could move back to the penthouse this week," he suggested, his eyes glinting with hope.
"I would’ve thought you would want me there tonight," I said, tilting my head.
"By you, I mean your stuff. You’ll physically be in our bed," he clarified, a smile playing on his lips.
"Suppose I want to take a breather?" I teased.
"Tough. Pack a suitcase and we can go. I have a surprise for you there," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"You don’t need to give me gifts. I already said yes," I protested, touched by his gesture.
"I’m not rewarding you for the end of our separation. I’m doing it because I love you. I want you to be happy," he insisted, his sincerity evident.
"I am happy and all I need is you," I replied, feeling a swell of affection.
"Then pack your bags and let’s get moving. I’m sure Trouble is missing the patch of grass on the patio," he urged, his excitement contagious.
"He doesn’t seem to mind walking on the street. I have time because I’m not working now," I pointed out.
"Would you like to? I know of an office that’s just longing for the owner to come back," he said, raising an eyebrow.
"I bet. Do you mind if I take another week off?" I asked, hopeful for more time to adjust.
"Three months isn’t enough of a vacation?" Oliver quipped.
"I wasn’t taking a vacation. I was trying to heal my wounded heart," I reminded him gently.
I couldn’t bear the hurt look on Oliver’s face. It tore at my heart as much as it had torn at his. But he had to know the damage he caused by closing me out and shutting down emotionally.
"Of which I’ll spend the rest of my life making up to you for. I’m sorry, Ryleigh. I’m so sorry," he said, his voice filled with regret.
"Stop apologizing. It’s over. We’ll have plenty of time to discuss it with the therapist," I reassured him. “Should we shower before we go?" I asked.
"Pack first, and I know a tub that’s been empty for a while," Oliver suggested, feeling a thrill at the thought.
I rubbed my hands together. "Mmm, I can’t wait. Do you still have the lime basil bath beads I left?" I asked, my voice dropping to a seductive whisper.
He winked. "Of course I do. Did you think I would throw them out?"
"Well, we were getting a divorce," I reminded him.
"I kept everything you left," He confessed softly.
"Why? You served me divorce papers. I thought you wanted it done and over with," I said, my voice tinged with confusion.
“By the time the papers came back signed, I had a change of heart.”
My mouth dropped open, and I punched him as hard as I could in the arm. His jaw clenched, and he rubbed his shoulder while I nursed my bruised knuckles.
“You bastard! That was two and a half months ago. Why didn’t you say something sooner?” I demanded, anger and frustration flaring.
“I didn’t want you to say no,” he admitted, his voice softening.
“I would’ve said yes,” I retorted, feeling a pang of hurt.
I got out of bed and slipped on my pink robe that was draped at the foot. Heading to the closet, I rummaged for my brown suitcase. As I bent over, Oliver came up behind me, his presence warm and close.
“Don’t start, Fox, or we’re sleeping here tonight, and you aren’t going to work,” I warned, trying to stay focused.
“You forget, dear Ryleigh, that I can work from bed,” he murmured, his breath tickling my ear.
“Naked, I hope,” I shot back, trying to maintain my resolve.
“But of course,” he replied with a mischievous grin.
“Get dressed while I pack. What am I going to do with my furniture?” I asked, needing a practical solution.
“Didn’t you say that Lisa and Benny are looking for a place in the city?” he suggested, already a step ahead.
“Yes, but they wouldn’t be able to pay the rent on this place,” I pointed out.
“What rent? The place is paid for. All they have to pay is the maintenance and taxes. That’s less than the rent would be on an apartment this big,” he explained, his practicality shining through.
“It’s up to you. It’s your place,” he said, looking for my approval.
“I think it would be a nice gesture. They want to save up to get married, and commuting to the city has been rough on Benny,” I reasoned.
“Then it’s settled. Your furniture is brand new. Do you want to gift it to them?” he asked.
“I think that would be nice. The furniture and everything else. I have a swanky penthouse to move to,” I said, my eyes twinkling.
“Then get packing, Mrs. Fox,” he teased, his voice full of affection.
I stretched languidly across Oliver's bed—our bed—feeling a contentment I hadn't experienced in ages. The scent of lime and basil clung to my skin, a reminder of the luxurious bath I'd just enjoyed. My belly was full of dim sum from Ming's, and my husband lay beside me, a solid, reassuring presence.
Resting my head on Oliver's chest, I traced lazy circles around his nipple with my fingertip. The low murmur of financial news from the television provided a soothing backdrop.
"Oliver?" I whispered, my voice barely audible above the drone of stock reports.
He shifted slightly, his arm tightening around me. "Yes, sweetheart?"
I hesitated, then murmured, "Thank you."
"For what?" Oliver's voice held a note of curiosity.
I smiled against his skin. "Coming to your senses."
Oliver's chest rose and fell with a deep sigh. "I came to my senses a while ago. I was just too scared to say anything."
My finger stilled its circular motion. "You should've tried. You would've saved a lot of heartache and tears."
I spent so many nights crying myself to sleep after our separation and when I was awake, I teetered between devastation and anger. I knew I gave in too easily, let him off the hook for his behavior but we would hash it out when we went to therapy. He would know how he made me feel.
He began to stroke my hair, his touch gentle and soothing. "I know. I told you I would spend my life making it up to you."
I bit my lip, wanting to change the subject. "Have you heard from Jonah?"
Oliver's body tensed almost imperceptibly. "No. He'll eventually surface when he gets in trouble or needs money. It's his MO." He paused, then added firmly, "But I don't want to talk about him. I want to talk about us."
"What?" I tilted my head to look up at him.
His eyes met mine, filled with determination. "When would you like to start therapy?"
I felt a flutter of hope in my chest. "As soon as possible. We have a lot to get out."
"I agree," Oliver nodded. "I can look for a therapist tomorrow. I think there's a few in my building."
My brow furrowed. "Your building?"
I thought back to the listing board in the lobby and I didn’t remember any doctors listed.
"The one next door to our corporate offices," he explained. "I finally moved some of the executives over there, and we're discussing a daycare center on the floor below."
My head snapped up, eyes wide. "Really?"
Oliver's lips curved into a smile. "You were right. I did some research, and it would make sense to have a daycare center for our employees. Our profits are high enough, and we can ask the employees for a small deduction. It would be far less than what they pay for daycare, I'm sure."
"You're wonderful," I breathed, warmth spreading through me.
He shook his head slightly. "It wasn't my idea, it was yours. So thank yourself."
Oliver gently guided my head back to his chest, and I resumed circles around his nipple.
"You're a tease, Mrs. Fox," he murmured, his voice low and husky.
I chuckled softly. "I'm usually not, but tonight I'm too sore to accommodate any naughty requests from you."
"That's fine," Oliver replied, his fingers trailing along my arm. "We always have tomorrow."
"You have to work," I reminded him.
"I do, but I won't be doing it in the office."
I propped myself up on one elbow, searching his face. "You're staying home?"
He nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Yes. You can find me right down the hall to meet any of your desires or requests."
"I like the sound of that," I purred, settling back against him.
"Anything you wish," Oliver promised.
I snuggled closer, overwhelmed by emotion. "You're so good to me."
His arm tightened around me. "I have a lot to make up for."
As I yawned and pressed my nose against the scar on Oliver's chest, I realized it didn't affect me as badly as it once had. This was a new chapter in our lives, and I dared to hope that everything from here would go smoothly.
But even as I drifted towards sleep, a nagging thought persisted. I knew I would have to tell my family we were back together, and I wasn't sure what kind of response that would elicit. My mother had been particularly upset by the way Oliver handled the loss of our child.
I suspected this was how he had dealt with the passing of his parents, too. Silently, I prayed that if something catastrophic happened again, he would handle it better. With therapy on the horizon, I allowed myself to believe that it just might be possible.