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At the idea of food, I reluctantly park my arousal and wipe at the corners of my mouth. “You have something to eat?”
We both chuckle at the innuendo, and this time, his laughter is deep and generous. The vibrations of his joy course through my body, thrilling me further.
“Ah, I wasn’t referring to that, but maybe later. I wish I had a meal to give you. I was thinking the vending machine.”
“Okay. And you can find it in this dark hell?”
He gets to his feet and crowds me, as if reminding me that he’s here—that I’m not alone. I melt into him.
“I promise to go slow, and I won’t let you go.”
“Okay, lead the way, Twist.”
True to his word, Oliver clutches me close to his body, our steps slow and measured as we hobble across the shadowy office.
“What we need is a flashlight,” he says.
“And you wouldn’t happen to have one, would you?”
“No, but Coach does. If only we can make it to the—fuck.” He jerks back from whatever it is he’s bumped into and curses again under his breath.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I found one of the chairs.” He shifts me so I’m almost behind him. “Hang on. If we are where I think we are, it’s close, but I don’t want you crashing into things.”
I slide one hand into the back pocket of his jeans to grasp his ass, and he lets out a throaty groan. “Tyler, I’ve never known you to not play fair. Hands in a safe place.”
“Safe place?” I slide my hand from his pocket to the front of him.
My nails graze his hard abdomen through his shirt, and he tenses under my touch. “Fuck, Tyler, you’re dangerous.”
He spins so fast, a whoosh of air washes over me for only a beat before his hands are on me. Everywhere. In my hair, skating down my cheeks, skimming the sides of my breasts, squeezing my waist until they settle on my backside.
“Now how does it feel?”
“Pretty amazing actually.” My lips dance along the underside of his jaw, and he tips his head back to give me better access.
This time his stomach gurgles, and he belts out a deep belly laugh. His Adam’s apple bobs and reverberates under my teeth. With a nip at his flesh, I push onto my toes and plant a kiss at the corner of his lopsided grin.
“Okay. Both of us need food first, then more of this.”
Within minutes, he has the flashlight, and while I wish it was bigger and brighter, the pointed beacon does the trick and helps us get around the office.
No surprise, Oliver knows how to get food out of the vending machine without money or power. He tips the large box to one side while I aim the flashlight in his direction, and with a few whacks of his fist, we have our pick of chocolate bars, candy, and bags of chips.
We sit side by side on the sofa eating, and when I come to the last of my peanut M&Ms, satiated if not a little thirsty, I am ready to brave one of the two topics I so desperately want answers about.
My hands rub along my skirt while I mull over how best to broach the subject of Dorothy Malone, his longtime girlfriend turned fiancée. The fact that she snagged Oliver aside, I never much cared for her.
She was always the mean girl, always talking down to everyone like she was better than they were. Pretty in thatwon’t leave the house without her hair and makeup done like she’s going to the Oscarskind of way.
We were never friends, but I didn’t consider her an enemy. She and Oliver became an item several months after I returned from college, and while I was with someone at the time, something shifted between us. Dot suddenly didn’t have a kind word or look for me.
I never fully understood it nor did I lose sleep over it. Oliver and I had never dated and yet, she acted as if I was his mistress. And when I was with someone—even the years I was with Lane—the fact that I was unavailable never placated her. If Dot could have erased me or kicked me out of town, she would have.
He taps my knee. “You full?”
“Yes, but junk food never satisfies for long.”
