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“What stuff?”
“Wrappin’ shit. You look happy.”
“I am happy. Why wouldn’t I be?” she asks me, a confused look on her face.
“They feel like users to me.”
“They’re my family,” she snaps a little this time. I know who they are, and I don’t like them. I get a bad vibe from most ofthem, and the others just seem to be here because they have to be.
“Sorry.”
“There’s just a lot of history with us. Shit, I don’t want to talk about it,” she finally tells me. If I had to guess, I’d say there’s something with that uncle of hers. I can’t place it, but that motherfucker bothers me for some reason.
“I get that. We all have history, Olson, but that doesn’t mean you have to put up with bullshit. They get out of control you tell them to leave. Thanksgivin’ was tense as fuck,” I tell her.
“You could feel that, too?” she asks softly.
“Yeah. I’m good at pickin’ up on things like that,” I tell her as I pick at the paper in front of me.
“I didn’t mean for it to be awkward for you,” she says sweetly.
“It’s all good. I’ve done awkward more than once, darlin’.”
I sit back with my beer and watch Olson wrap the rest of her gifts. She doesn’t seem to notice me watching her, or if she does, she doesn’t care. She looks lost in her head, and that’s not a place I wanted to send her. I just wanted to say my piece and move on. I didn’t like Thanksgiving with her family because there were so many off vibes coming from them. Not that I wouldn’t do it again for her. And the thought hits me. I’d do it again for her. Why the hell is she getting under my skin already? I haven’t been around that long.
I shake my head and bring my beer to my lips when she looks up, and our eyes lock. There’s something about that girl, something that not many see. They overlook her. They see her as an object, not a person. As something they can use to their advantage, and I don’t like it.
“You keep lookin’ at me like that, and you’re not gonna finish wrappin’ those gifts,” I warn as I take another pull from the bottle.
“What do you mean?” She isn’t that naive. She knows what she’s doing to me, batting those lashes and looking at me like she wants me to fuck her here and now. The thought has crossed my mind, but at the same time, she’s my job. I shouldn’t be attracted to my job, right?
“You know exactly what I mean, Olson. Come here,” I tell her. She isn’t far from me, and I watch as she fucking crawls on hands and knees over to me. My cock responds, liking seeing her like that. She sits back and looks at me when she’s right in front of me.
“You do want this, don’t you?” I ask her. I need to hear her say it. I need to hear it leave her lips, but nothing comes out. She doesn’t say a word. I shake my head and shove to my feet, knowing I can’t do this. Olson just watches me with wide eyes but still doesn’t say a word.
I pace the living room, unsure of how I feel now. I thought for sure she wanted this, but she wasn’t saying a word.
“You should go to bed,” I tell her.
“Is that an order?”
“What?”
“Isn’t that what you want? You want to be the Dom?” Shaking my head; this girl confuses me more than anyone I know. How does she come up with this shit? Where does she come up with this shit?
“Why would you think that?”
She shrugs.
“I don’t know. I guess every other man I have been with was like that,” she adds as I look down at her. I walk closer, gripping her face in my hand to force her to look up at me.
“I’m not other men. I don’t want you to bow down to me, Olson. I want to own you.” My words spark a fire in her eyes as she gazes up at me. Before I know it, she’s on her feet, crashing her lips to mine. She kisses me roughly before I slide my tonguepast her lips and into her mouth. Our tongues tangle as she moans and presses her body closer to me. I should stop this. I shouldn’t have started it, but here we are.
I grip her hips in my hands and walk her backward until her back hits the wall. Then I slowly let my hand sink into the front of her shorts, feeling her wetness.
“You always this wet?” I ask her between kisses.
“No.”
