“So bossy,” she teased, wrapping her legs around my waist and digging her nails into my back. “Faster, I need more.”
I increased my pace and counted backwards from five hundred to keep myself from coming, and that was when I felt it—her shift. Her body tightened, and her eyes widened. “Oliver, I?—”
“Yes, honey.” I stared down at her. “Eyes on me when you come.”
Her face twisted with pleasure, her moan loud and deep and so sexy, and I released my restraint. I gripped her waist, holding eye contact as I let my orgasm hit me. Fuck—it was magical. Almost unreal. Our limbs tingled, and I collapsed next to her, completely spent and obsessed with the growing feelings in my soul.
I loved her. I was a broken man with an uncertain future, but I knew one thing—I’d do anything to keep this woman in my life.
29
SLOANE
The sheets were warm. That was the first thing I registered. The weight of the comforter, the soft brush of skin against my back, and the slow, even breath at the nape of my neck. Oliver’s arm was wrapped loosely around my waist. His hand rested below my ribs, fingers splayed like he’d needed the contact to fall asleep.
The room was still. Early light filtered through the blinds in soft lines across the far wall. The kind of light that always made me feel like I was in the wrong place—like I should’ve been awake an hour earlier, already working through player logs and neuro reports.
My phone buzzed somewhere on the nightstand. Twice. I ignored it.
Instead, I lay still and listened to him breathe. His chest rose against my back. His lips brushed the top of my shoulder once, a subtle shift in sleep, and then he stilled again. He didn’t know I was awake. Last night was…it changed things. This wasn’t some fling between us. I knew that in my bones, that this relationship could be the thing I’d always dreamed about. Something real, something solid.
I trailed my fingers over his arm, my heart swelling thinking about how tender he was last night, how he stared at me like he cared. He was nothing like the version of him I had found on the closet floor yesterday, hands clenched and heart rate spiking, blinking tears into the dust.
I closed my eyes, trying to settle my thoughts, but the weight of them pressed against my chest. I should’ve gotten up. I should’ve moved, but my body didn’t want to leave his.
Oliver murmured something incoherent, his breath warm against my skin. He pulled me closer for a second, his arm tightening slightly before he settled again.
I rolled onto my back slowly, trying not to wake him. He didn’t stir.
His face was relaxed. Unburdened. His lips parted, brows soft, expression neutral in a way that made my chest ache. The lines that usually lived at the corners of his eyes were faded in sleep. I studied them anyway.
He looked younger like this, or maybe less haunted. I knew I wanted to wake up with him like this every day.
My phone buzzed again, and this time I reached for it.
William: Labs are back. Call when you’re in. Want to talk it out with you.
The message sat heavy on the screen, a knot in my chest tightening. This was about Oliver, this man who was now ingrained in my heart. A part of me was pleased that William wanted to talk it out with me, but that meant the results were up for discussion, that they weren’t black and white. And I had a feeling I knew what the results were.I have to get there now.
I wasn’t sure I could stay objective with Oliver anymore, which meant I couldn’t do my job.
I slid out from under the sheets and sat on the edge of the bed. My legs felt heavy. My chest even heavier. I grabbed the hoodie he’d left crumpled at the foot of the bed and tuggedit over my head. I padded out into the hallway barefoot. The apartment was silent, only the distant hum of the refrigerator breaking it. I grabbed a glass from the cabinet, filled it with water, and leaned against the counter.
My tablet buzzed again.
William: Need confirmation you’ve seen this.
Fuck. I was terrified of the results. I had to get there. I needed to see with my own eyes, so I could adjust. My heart raced. My stomach tightened. God, what were the results?
I didn’t answer him yet. I sipped the water slowly, letting the silence fill my ears.
Oliver’s apartment was neat but lived-in. A pair of shoes left half-tucked near the door. A clean water bottle on the table, unopened. Dishes drying in the rack. It was so normal. So unremarkable. But standing in it like this, hoodie oversized on my frame, I felt out of place in the best and worst way.
It felt like a life. A simple, steady one. The kind of life I’d spent years telling myself I didn’t need. I didn’t know if I was allowed to want it.
The sound of my phone ringing cut through the stillness. I turned it over.
Caleb.
