“You still shaking?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, his lips close to my ear.
I nodded, breath catching as his hand slid up, not far—enough to skim along my ribs. His touch wasn’t overt, but it wasn’t casual either. I pressed back instinctively, my hips brushing his thigh.
He exhaled, the sound rougher this time. “Tell me what you need.”
“I don’t know,” I whispered, my voice shaky.
His hand moved again, stroking my side with quiet reverence. His fingertips ghosted beneath the curve of my breast, then back down to my waist, then around to my hip where he squeezed gently. “You want me to stop?”
“No,” I said too quickly. “Don’t stop.”
His nose grazed the side of my neck as he adjusted, nudging closer, and his mouth curved in a smile against my skin. “You’re impossible,” he murmured.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My whole body was humming, needy and confused and overwhelmed. I turned slightly toward him, enough to see his face. His eyes were tired but open,watching me like I mattered. His thumb traced a lazy circle over my hip.
My hand slid across his chest, fingertips brushing over the soft cotton of his shirt. His muscles tensed under my touch, but he didn’t move away. I followed the slope of his chest to the curve of his shoulder, then back again, marveling at how solid he felt. Like if I gripped him hard enough, I’d finally stop floating.
He maintained eye contact as he slid his hand down and cupped the top of my thigh, his grip warm and comforting.
I tilted my chin up, and for a second, I thought maybe I’d close the space and kiss him. Just to feel something different. Something safe. Something that had nothing to do with blood or fear or shattered glass. God, how would he kiss? Gentle like this, or aggressive, hungry? A moan escaped the back of my throat, and Oliver stilled.
“Fuck, that was a sexy sound, Sloane.” He kissed the side of my neck, his lips warm and soft. “You have no idea how much I want to taste that mouth of yours, but not tonight. Let’s just… enjoy this and sleep, okay?”
Every part of me burned. My thighs, my chest, the space between my ribs that only seemed to ache when he touched me. I wanted him. Desperately. But what gutted me more was how deeply I trusted him in this moment—not just with my body but with the mess of everything else.
My lips parted, ready to argue, ready to beg, but then I saw his eyes. I swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay,” I whispered, barely audible. “Just… stay with me.”
His chest rose under my palm as he exhaled, like he’d been waiting for that. He shifted closer, his leg brushing mine, his hand moving up to settle against my ribs.
16
OLIVER
Fucking hell.
I woke up with Sloane’s body completely surrounding me. Her hair was in my face, the sweet scent of her shampoo and perfume an intoxicating combination. Her thigh was over my legs, like she’d tried climbing on me in the middle of the night. She was warm, so damn warm and soft, and I took note of all my limbs. My feet were good, but my hands…
One hand was on my side, the other, up her shirt, almost cupping her breast. Shit.
I didn’t move. I didn’t even blink. My fingers were splayed under her ribcage, one knuckle grazing the soft curve of her breast. I hadn’t meant to do it. I didn’t even remember shifting in the night. But here she was—wrapped around me like she belonged there.
Her breath was hot on my throat. Her palm rested on my chest, like it had been there the whole time. Her tank had ridden up enough to make me ache.
I could’ve died happy right there. Truly.
But then she shifted. A small sigh left her mouth, and she burrowed closer, her knee nudging between my thighs like shewas chasing heat. Her body moved against mine, and I swore under my breath. My dick was already hard—had probably been for the last hour—but now it pulsed like it had a mind of its own.
Her body moved again—slow, soft, innocent in the way dreams were before they turned dangerous. She didn’t know what she was doing. Couldn’t. Not when she was still half-asleep, breath warm and even against my collarbone. My skin was on fire with how much I wanted this woman. The fact I slept next to her like this and didn’t combust was a feat I was proud of. She was so damn sexy and smart, and god, I was into her.
She doesn’t want you like that.My brain yelled at me, but I told him to shut the fuck up. I was enjoying this moment with her body all over mine, of her seeking my comfort. She moaned in her sleep, snuggling even closer, and her thigh rubbed against my very hard cock.
I clenched my jaw and tried to breathe through the attraction. I could move. I should move off the bed and take a very cold shower. But she was pressed so tight against me—her thigh slipping higher, her hand twitching enough that her fingers grazed the edge of my waistband.
And then she sighed again. This low, needy sound in the back of her throat that destroyed my self-restraint.
I swallowed hard and shifted slightly—just my hips, enough to ease the pressure—and that’s when her body stilled. Her breath changed. Not deep and even now but sharper. Lighter. Awake.
Shit.
