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I take a step forward. The hardwood is cool and smooth against my bare feet as I push away from the counter and approach him.
Oliver doesn’t move. Doesn’t reach. He watches me walk, until I’m so close I can see the flutter of his pulse beneath his jawline. Keeping my gaze fixed on him the whole time, I start unbuttoning his shirt. One by one, they pop open, exposing bare chest.
Working at Garner Sports Agency means I spend a lot of time around professional athletes who stay in shape for a paycheck. Oliver could choose to never work a day of his life. But not only does he work, heworks out.
His body is a masterpiece. Firm skin and sculpted muscles. I take my time with each button, my fingers brushing and lingering over each new inch.
Once I reach the final button, I run my hands all the way back to the top, spreading my right palm over his left pectoral until I find the steady thud of his heart.
“Yes.” I whisper my answer.
His hand splays on the center of my back the same way it did at the bar. Just like then, I want to sigh at the contact. It’s not sexual, it’s support. I stumble into him, and then he’s kissing me.
Andfuck, can Oliver kiss. I’m swept into it, like a wave leaving shore.
He hasn’t shaved since he arrived. There’s a slight rasp as his stubble abrades my skin, the roughness of his scruff contrasting the soft brush of his lips.
I fall into it, into him. Wonder why I didn’t kiss him as soon as he walked out of the airport earlier, because embarrassment and uncertainty don’t seem like monumental enough barriers to justify resisting this sensation.
I whimper when his lips leave mine, and I’m too turned on to care how pathetic it sounds.
“Couch or bed?”
I deliberate for half a second. Couch is closer, bed is bigger. “Bed.”
In a move that I’m not expecting at all, I’m suddenly airborne. Breath leaves my lungs in a surprisedwhooshas Oliver begins walking, leaving me with an upside-down view of my kitchen.
“What the hell?” I sputter. It sounds much less indignant than I was hoping for.
Oliver’s hand runs up my left calf and lands on my thigh, holding me more securely against his shoulder. Even through the denim I can feel the heat searing through the fabric and branding my skin.
“It’s my turn.”
“Your turn to…what?” The last word comes out breathlessly, as the world reorients again. I’m on my back, spread out in the middle of my mattress, with a smirking Oliver hovering above me.
“To touchyou.”
His head dips, finding a sensitive spot right above my collarbone. He presses his lips right on the curve where my neck meets my shoulder. I didn’t evenknowthat was a sensitive spot. Not until right now, when he gently sucks before swiping it with his tongue, and my nerve endings respond like a lash of lightning finding metal.
Oliver’s mouth journeys up my neck.
Sometimes licking, sometimes sucking, sometimes nibbling.
Alwaystouching.
By the time he reaches my jawline, I’m a panting mess. A puddle of need. So wet I canfeelit gathered between my thighs.
I thought this would be a quick encounter. Sexy and satisfying, but not slow. It was supposed to be instant gratification. Mutual relief.
Not this growing, glowing sensation that makes me never want to move. To sink into the way it feels like he’s worshipping me.
When he kisses me, it feels like falling.
But in the best way. When you know you’ll land safely so you can enjoy the rush.
I’m not sure if I should feel so safe around Oliver. We both have the means to hurt the other. We’re a precarious stack; one stumble away from destruction.
But I sink into it anyway.
