So now, I’m sitting onAirJoneswith headphones in, listening to Olive’s music without interruption from the outside world, and it’s the first time I’ve really listened to her lyrics now that Iknowher in the way that I do.
She’s seems so sad in every fucking song.
One is about a toxic relationship. One is about letting love go. And one is about sleeping with a football player? At least, that’s what I can gather from the lyrics I’m listening to.
The version of her I know doesn’t seem like she would break easily, and maybe the person behind these songs is the reason why. Maybe he or she hurt hersobadly that she just refuses to show anybody who she really is.
Her songs are on a loop the entire plane ride to Florida, where she’s spending the next few nights, with me joining her there.
She says she hates surprises, so I made sure to tell her before I hopped on my flight, but I haven’t heard back from her yet. Even though my intention is there, she might still see it as an ambush of sorts.
That’s why I had Orlando book a hotel room for me, right next door to hers. Just in case she replies and says she isn’t up for the visit, or is too tired.
Or she has someone else over.
I shake the thought—and the stab of jealousy that comes with it—out of my head.
Then I swipe my key card, push open the door, and toss my bags to the floor.
"Somebody order room service?" Her voice hits me first, low and raspy, then the scent of her vanilla-coconut shampoo hangs in the air.
I round the corner, and there she is, lying on the bed like sin in silk.
My dick twitches against my waistband, fully aware of what’s about to go down.
"What are you doing here?" My voice comes out more like a croak than anything else, my mouth salivating at the sight of her.
She’s completely naked, save for a thin white sheet draped loosely across her chest.
"I have friends in high places," she whispers, her eyes dark in the dim lighting.
"Orlando?" I ask, stepping in closer.
She nods.
I pull my shirt over my head in one smooth motion, and her teeth catch her bottom lip.
"Booking you a room was my idea," she says, smirking. "A woman has needs, you know?"
She slides one leg out from beneath the sheet, tanned, slow, intentional, and I groan, because I have no self-control around Olive, and I don't care if she knows it.
"And what exactly are those needs…Wife?"
I move to the side of the bed, leaning in until my lips hover just above hers.
My hand slides up the inside of her thigh. Her body trembles at my touch.
Her lips part. "Why don't you kiss me and find out?"
She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down as she stares into my eyes.
I climb onto the bed, and she parts her legs for me. Kneeling between her thighs, I grab her hands, threading our fingers together.
And just when she’s about to lean in to kiss me, I slam her arms over her head.
She laughs, and it makes my chest tighten.
Before I dwell on how it feels, I kiss her. Slow, and deep, our tongues sliding together in synch.
