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This morning, just a few hours ago, we woke up together naked in my bed. She turned to face me, and as she did, she was so close to me that I felt her slickness on my cock. I nearly lost in all right then and there, and I could tell she wanted me to. It might not have even been accidental that she was that close to me, but as soon as I realized how close we were to me not even just touching her but sinking into her, I bolted out of bed so fast that I think I have a sheet burn on my ass cheek.
By the time she sat up, I was already halfway to the bathroom. And then, for the first time since all this started, I lied to her. I told her I was late for a meeting and that I had to shower or Maxim would smell the sex we hadn’t had, but the truth was there was no meeting.
It will be easy enough for her to find that out, but if she does, I’ll cross the bridge when we get to it. All I knew in that moment was that I had to get out of there. Out, out. So far away that I couldn’t just burst back into her room and start up where we left off.
We’ve been keeping the door between our rooms unlocked, and mostly, it’s even open. She’s just too close when I’m in my room. In the hotel even.
Which is why I made a break for it. At first, I was just planning on heading down to the gym to take my frustration out on the equipment, but then, when I opened my door, the guards weren’t there. It’s been so many weeks now without either me or Olivia trying anything that the guards have been attending their weekly briefing for thirty minutes once a week, and that’s the only time there’s no one outside our doors.
So when I opened mine and saw that I’d just so happened to be heading out during that one thirty-minute slot, it was like the universe itself telling me it was okay to go out. Just this once. Just for a quick walk to clear my head.
I’ve missed so many of our stops already, and I’d be damned if I missed anything else now that the opportunity had presented itself. Being on the streets of Zurich, just walking—with my hood up and my head down just in case—is already helping. I’m finally alone and outside, and freedom has never tasted so good or been so necessary.
I bet if Mike knew I’m only doing it to get far enough away from his darling daughter that I don’t end up burying myself balls deep in her for the next few days, he’d even be okay with me making a break for it. I’d never tell him, obviously, but I’m sure he’d be happy that I left, even if it might mean putting myself in danger for this particular cause.
Sure, I’m not an animal. I can control myself, and I have been, but a guy can only take so much. When I’m in that room, all I can see, taste, hear, feel, and smell is her. The fog of Olivia only starts lifting when I’m a few blocks away from the hotel, and it’s like I can breathe again for the first time in weeks.
I even smile a little as I feel the tension draining from my muscles and the claustrophobia, the cabin fever, that’s slowly been eating me alive subsides. With it, the intensity of my need for her also eases up. It’s been easy to get tunnel vision. When your entire world becomes centered around two rooms, everything feels so much more intense.
It’s not that I don’t want her anymore. I do. More than anything. But the more I breathe free air, hear cars and people and just the sounds of civilization, smell the fumes of cars and restaurants and even gutters, the more my mind starts clearing. And that’s what I needed. That’s why I had to get out.
I know everyone is worried about me, and I know they’ve only been trying to protect me, but in doing so, they’ve also caged me. I won’t do anything stupid like check in on social media or do a live broadcast, but I just need to walk. To be part of life. To see people I don’t know and to hear them speak a language I don’t understand.
Besides, I’m fine, and I don’t plan on staying out all day. I’ll be back before they even notice I’m gone. What happened to my uncle was terrible, and I get why they’re all so concerned, but what are the chances of this guy tracking me down while I’m taking one walk after weeks of not showing my face? Even if he comes at me, I think I have a pretty decent chance of fighting him off if he tries to kidnap me like Joe did my mother. Unless he drugs me, in which case I might be in trouble, but it’s broad daylight and this city has a lot of cameras in it. I figure if he tries something, it’ll at least be enough of a fight that someone will take notice and they’ll probably be able to find me easy enough.
Once I’ve gone far enough, my thoughts turn back to Olivia. I’m not even really sure how we got to this point. One day, she was the bane of my existence, and what feels like the next, I’m out here roaming the streets and realizing what’s been wrong with me is that I think I might be falling in love with her.
I don’t know for sure since I’ve never even been close to falling in love before, but it’s the only thing that really makes sense. As it dawns on me, I feel the blood slowly draining from my face.
Fuck, I’m not ready to be in love with anyone.What I love is playing the field. Hooking up with different girls and learning different things from every one of them. But now… now I can’t imagine myself even touching anyone else, never mind fucking them.
Olivia is the only girl I want, which is as deeply strange as it is true.Shit. Am I really falling in love with her?
I gulp past a suddenly dry spot in my throat, but the more I think about it, the more I realize it could be what’s been happening to me. We touched down in London almost two months ago now, and I haven’t even thought about another woman since.Jesus. Has it really been that long?
A quick mental calculation tells me it has, in fact, been that long. It’s the longest I’ve gone without sex in a really long time. Moreover, it’s the longest my attention has only been on one girl. Ever.
Fucking fuck. This can’t be happening to me. It just can’t. Especially not with Olivia. Out of the billions of women on the planet, how the fuck did it end up happening with her?
Panic starts weaving its way into the very fibers of my being.I don’t know how to be in love with someone. What am I even supposed to do with this information?
I don’t think I’m head over heels for her yet, but I could be. Everything in me tightens when I put myself through a fast, spur-of-the-moment test.Think about her with someone else. Think about how you would feel if you got back to the hotel and walked in on her with James… or anyone.
The rage and jealousy that rip like wildfire through my veins at the mere thought are so intense it leaves me breathless. And itchy. But it also provides something of an answer to my question.
Okay. Okay, so I might be falling for her a little. That’s not the end, right? It’s okay. I like her. That’s fine.I can deal with that. But as I try to figure out what it means, I realize I can’t deal with it. It suddenly feels like someone has taken a lighter to my gut, and they’re holding it there while I keep still, just slowly letting them burn me up from the inside out.
Abruptly turning around, I decide to head back. I wanted to clear my head, but now that I have, I realize it was a shitty idea. If I knew then that this was where clarity was going to lead me, I’d just have stayed and fucked her.
Yeah, probably not, but still.
I wonder if this is what Maxim went through when he realized he was in love with Emma. Then again, it happened so long ago, and loving her seemed to come so naturally to him that I doubt it. On the other hand, I now struggle to imagine what it was like for him, watching her with Nick and almost marrying him. It would kill me to have to see Olivia even talking to another guy right now. I think I’d probably end up killing him if said other guy actually touched her, let alone asked her to marry him.
As I dart down the sidewalk on my way back to the hotel, my gaze snags on a small sign jutting out a wall. Ye Olde Pub. I veer off toward it before I even need to think about it. If I’ve ever needed a drink, it’s right now. One drink, then go back, find Maxim, and ask him what the fuck I’m supposed to do with all this.
Ducking into the dark warmth of the bar, I march directly to the counter and rap my knuckles on it. There are very few other patrons, and none of them are sitting on the stools around me, so the barkeep hears me knock, turns, and stoically asks a question I don’t understand.
“I’ll have one of whatever lager you’ve got on tap and a tequila,” I respond since I’m pretty sure he asked me what I want to drink.
