Even Robert was not like this.
Yes, he was petulant and disarming, and a bit of a brat, but…
It felt different. It felt almost antagonistic.
But Oliver… Oliver feelsfun.
I like pressing his buttons more than I should. I need to be careful.
Not for his sake, but for mine.
“A suitable breakfast would be full of protein for one, not sugar. Sugar will only make you crash. You need nutrients to keep that brain going in that pretty little head of yours.”
“Then I’ll eat some nuts from the break room," he snips.
My cheeks flush at his words, though I know he doesn’t mean them scandalously. I can’t help that my cock twitches and the thought of feeding himmy nutsand giving him a healthy amount of protein runs through my one-track mind.
I shift in my seat, trying hard not to draw attention to my damn dick with a mind of its own.
Oliver shifts again and grimaces, his body tense and his eyebrows furrowed. Something shifts inside me as I sense his discomfort. I reach out and settle my hand on his thigh, and he nearly jumps.
“Relax, Oliver,” I tell him. “I am just fucking with you. Pop-Tarts are delicious.”
He settles a fraction, shifting towards me. I pretend not to notice, but… I do.
I notice the way his body instinctively seeks my touch when I settle my hand there. Notice the way his body relaxes, and the small gasp from his throat.
That can’t be hidden.
He likes men. But does he likeme?
He might be attracted to me, if his body language is anything to go by, but Oliver doesn’t know me. Not yet, anyway.
And as badly as I want him to, I need to tread lightly.
Still, the need to make sure heiscomfortable is prevalent.
“Seriously?” he asks.
“Yes.” I soften my voice a fraction. “S’Mores are my favorite.”
Oliver shifts again, his movement making my hand on his thigh slide up just a bit. I wait for him to push my hand away, as my fingers trail dangerously close to his groin.
I’m tempted to move my hand, my fingers, higher. Tempted to stroke his cock through his pants until I can feel the outline of his hardness in my hand.
I bet he’d let me do it, too. Something tells me Oliver wouldn’t mind my touch one bit.
The thought makes me want it all the more, and that’s why I pull my hand away.
I don’t need that kind of trouble. Neither one of us does.
“Mine too," he says softly.
I give him a smile as we pull into my private garage.
“Well, isn’t that interesting,” I say softly as I turn the car off. Oliver looks at me with those big, green eyes, and my heart skips a stupid beat.
“Turns out we have something in common," I say with a smirk as I get out of the car. I open his door, and I think he’s going tosay something. Protest. Tell me I’m out of line, something. But he doesn’t.
