I do love it. I loveyou.
I mentally chastised myself for how quickly that thought was entering my mind. Maybe he had a point about the orgasms. Maybe it really was just a lust filled haze that was clouding my judgement.
When my gaze landed on his once more from where I sat in the passenger seat, and his cheeky smile stared back at me, I knew it was more than that.God, help me.
We said a quick goodbye. Then I hurried up to my flat to see the new generator. Nothing in my flat had been disturbed. If Oliver hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have even noticed that anyone had been up here. Darting towards the laundry cupboard that sat beside my bathroom, I opened the door and inspected my brand new generator. It was a little cumbersome for the small space, barely having enough space next to the washing machine, but it fit—just about.
My heart was so full it felt ready to burst.
44
FALLON
The rest of the evening, I spent curled over my laptop at my kitchen counter. I had a mountain of work to do. Notes from my meetings with Oliver that I needed to organise—research about the past clubs he was transferred to, etc. But I ignored all of that…
The things he told me about his mother whirled around my brain. Creating pictures and stories that I couldn’t stop thinking about. I knew he would never allow any of it to be put into the book. It went against everything he initially told me he wanted, the boundaries he’d put in place. However this was the colour the book needed, the depth I’d been desperately searching for. His adoration and love for his mum and family was a side of Oliver the world had no idea about. They saw the fuckboy, the brash insensitive guy who cared only for football.
And they completely missed the devoted son. The fiercely protective brother. The man who would do anything for the people he loved.
Even though none of these words would make it into the book, Ineededto write it.
I needed to purge this from my mind, and hopefully sate the part of myself that wanted to pick up my phone and call him.
I was yanked from my moment of reverie by a sharp knock at my front door.
My heart picked up speed at my initial thought that it was Oliver. I quickly scolded the traitorous organ in my chest when I realised he didn’t have a key to the building. And the only other person who did was my landlord—the sallow faced and eternally creepy, Stuart, who lived in the flat above me. If it was him, there was no way in hell I was opening my door. I’d paid my rent for the month thanks to the advance on the book.
Another knock came.
‘Fallon?’
A female voice called through the door. I frowned, not recognising it. They called out again and my stomach lurched.What the fuck?
Like the world might explode if I made noise, I crept across the kitchen to peer through the peephole.
Shit.
Her coat cinched at the waist, black hair pin straight, eyes darting around the stairwell like something might crawl out of the concrete, stood the last person I ever expected to darken my doorstep.
‘Charlotte?’ I said incredulously.
My sister's eyes snapped to the door with no little sense of relief.
‘Yes,’ she barked. ‘Open up. I’m going to catch something if I stay out here much longer.’ She shuddered, lips pursed with distaste.
I opened all four locks and cracked the door an inch, my brain still not computing that my older sibling was standing outside my front door. Of all the craziness of thepast month, this was the situation that had my mind stuttering.
‘How’d you get into the building?’
Charlotte waved a dismissive hand in the air. ‘Your landlord let me in.’
Of course he did. Stuart would have seen the upper class looks of my sister and no doubt drooled over the prospect of seeing her walk up the stairs. Thoughts of safety went clean out of his head when it came to the prospect of a beautiful woman.
‘Are you going to invite me in?’ Charlotte raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows impatiently.
‘Oh, uh, sure.’ I stepped aside, opening the door, letting my sister swan through.
She cast a cursory glance around my flat, brow pinched, letting out a low hum of displeasure.
