“Good god, Matt! You’re annoying,” he groans.
“Anyway, what did Meena say?” I ask, itching to leave. I need to be with Oliver now.
“She’s sending people,” he says, watching me fidget. “Fucking…go!” he waves, and I immediately book it out of there.
I drive like I have a death wish and run up the stairs. I’m in front of my apartment in twenty minutes.
His soft, even breaths and familiar scent immediately calm me down. I breathe a sigh of relief and lean my head against the door. I stand there until our breaths are synchronized, then open the door quietly.
My dramatics don’t need to disturb Oliver’s peaceful sleep. The guy barely gets much of it anyway.
I tiptoe into my bedroom and see his relaxed figure. The dark doesn’t affect my vision of the sweet, small smile on his slightly swollen lips. His mussed curls fan out over the pillow. Those beautiful eyelashes dust his cheeks.
My feet carry me to him without any prompting. I damn near fucking face-plant when I trip on the clothes strewn all over the floor.
I mutter curses and start picking up the clothes. I fold my jeans and our T-shirts. Oliver’s pants are on the other side of the room, but I pick them up like the nice boyfriend I am.
Guy. I mean guy.
I notice a colorful piece of paper almost falling out of his back pocket. A pamphlet, maybe? Since I’m not a snoop, I sternly remind myself, I push it back inside. But a word catches my eye. Superstrength.
Yeah, this needs some serious snooping. I immediately pull the pamphlet out.
My eyes bulge out of my head as I read the words. I rush out of the room, switch on the living room light, and take a picture of it. I send the photo to Nick, then forward it to the WRB chat, the one with the higher-ups.
I just figured out how these people found volunteers for their sick experiments.
Now, how did Oliver find it? That’s an answer I’ll need to wiggle out without causing suspicion.
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ChapterEighteen
Oliver
I wake up to the smell of coffee and butter. Immediately, my heart starts hammering against my ribs. Do I have an intruder? Fuck, did those people from the shop follow me home? And why do my sheets feel so soft? Am I naked?
The answer to all of that appears when Matt walks into the room in just his sweatpants. Right, this isn’t my home. But it could very well be heaven because…just look at that man!
“Oh, good, you’re up,” he says, and his lips stretch into a smile. I kissed those lips yesterday. Multiple times. Wish I could kiss them now, too.
He walks to my side of the bed, where I’m still lying, and takes my lips into a light kiss. Did I say any of that out loud?
“Are you okay?” he asks against my lips.
“Mmm hmm.” I’m great, actually.
He smiles against my lips, and that makes something flutter in my stomach.
He pulls back before I can drag him back to bed. “I madebreakfast,” he declares.
