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My gut twinges as it lurches to a halt. “Oliver?” I ask in surprise. “What’s wrong?”
He says nothing. He faces me, his eyes instantly falling to my lips as he rushes toward me and takes my face in his hands.
“Oli—”
He kisses me, deep and slow. I fall backward, my back touching the wall, but his lips never leave mine.
“Thank you,” he whispers, his forehead pressed softly against mine.
Tears sting my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Shh.” He touches our noses. He caresses my cheeks. “It’s okay now.”
Oliver moves in to kiss me again.
“Don’t—” I turn away, breaking the kiss. “Oliver, don’t kiss me again unless you mean it.”
He stares at me with those icy eyes. Less than a second passes before he tilts his head and crushes our lips together again.
No second thoughts.
No hesitation.
Just one achingly passionate kiss that fills me with warmth and comfort.
Oliver stops. “I have something for you,” he says.
He takes a step back as he slips two fingers into his coat pocket and withdraws a keycard pinched between them.
“Your room key?” I ask.
“No, it’s a copy of my room key,” he says. “And I’m giving it to you for safekeeping.”
I roll my eyes. “Why? You don’t want to dress yourself anymore?” I tease.
He chuckles, shaking his head. “No, not that…”
“Then, why?”
“Just in case,” he simply says.
“Just in case of... what, exactly?”
Oliver smirks. “Let me put it this way,” he says, his lips still a few inches from mine. “I’m giving you the key to my apartment...”
“What?” I furrow my brow. “Your apartment?”
“Because I want you to use it.” He doesn’t blink. “When you find yourself at home, all alone, late at night...”
My heart stops.
It fucking stops.
“Oli...” I say.
His smile deepens. “With an itch you can’t scratch...”
“Wh-wh-what are you doing?”
