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I shiver at his request, both excited and a little stressed at the idea. “What? It’s chilly.”
His arms engulf me, and he draws me into the heat of him. “I’ll keep you warm.”
Readily, I relinquish my clothes to the floor and snuggle into his embrace. He kisses me, and while it’s brief and for the most part chaste, his tongue swipes at my lips before he pulls away.
“And I’m not saying we have to be naked all night, although I’m not against that.” The soft vibrations of his laugh shoot straight to my still throbbing core. “But we’re not done.”
“Oh, really?” I challenge.
He grips my ass and squeezes. In turn, my hips push into him and his hard length prods my stomach. I want to drown in the warmth of him, eager for more of him, and with that thought, I’ll do just about anything he asks of me.
“Okay.” I slap his butt cheek before we separate.
Alone in the bathroom and once properly cleaned up, a twinge of panic seizes me. Unexpectedly, this time it isn’t the dark freaking me out. It’s what I’ve done.
I had sex with Oliver.
That in itself isn’t bad. Not at all. In fact, I just had the best sex of my life. I can’t explain it, not even to myself, but for as long as I’ve known Oliver, anything I’ve ever felt for him has been more. More powerful, more consuming. Just more everything.
Naturally, sex would be too.
But he’s leaving town.
No matter how I tried to convince him earlier to stay, he didn’t budge. He’s still set on leaving. And while I didn’t have to say it, I live in Winslow Grove and would be here. That fact didn’t seem to sway him one bit.
I’ll have to act like this is no big deal. But what exactly was this? A one-night stand? I’ve never done that before, and since this is Oliver, it didn’t feel like a one-time thing. Or maybe that’s my stupid heart talking.
What am I going to do?
I’m not so sure I can pull off easy breezy.
While he’s leaving town, looking for his way out, I’m looking for a way in.
Into his heart.
Chapter9
Oliver
For a second time that night, we have sex, and then I raid the vending machine. In the dark, I count my steps back to where Wren should be and lay a stash of food in her lap.
“Thanks. I wish we had real food.” The crinkling of a chip bag opening follows her lament.
“Me too.” I drop beside her on the couch and want to promise to take her out for breakfast tomorrow morning but don’t.
How can I assume she’ll want to or have the time? She’ll probably have to go home to shower and change before work, and I’m leaving town.
Nothing has changed, and everything has changed.
She leans her head on my shoulder, and the soft fabric of my flannel jacket, the one I convinced her to sleep in instead of her dress, brushes my bare arm.
We eat in silence, and once the food is done, we share the unopened bottle of water I found in one of the desk drawers.
An awkward silence settles between us for the first time tonight, and I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing I am. Do we talk about what happened? What comes next or more like, what doesn’t? Does she expect anything from me? And how can I make promises when I’ve got an uphill battle where Dot’s concerned?
Leaving Winslow Grove is the smart move.
But Wren’s here.
