Chapter 33
“Would you take me hard?”
Oliver gives a single nod. “Yes. I’d make sure you were good and wet before I did, though. And then I’d make you forget other men even exist.”
Holy shit. My skin feels electrified, my breathing too quick.
“Come.”
I pull him along Main Street. There’s only one destination in mind, one place we need to go. I’ve already made my decision.
Maybe it was never really a decision at all-inevitable, from the very first day we met, when he walked into the bakery and I saw those unflinching eyes for the first time. I don’t know, but I do know that I’ve never wanted anything in life more than I want him.
“The bakery?”
“Yes.”His eyes fill with heat. I want what he told me about, the claiming… being taken hard. It’s a feeling I’ve never had before, this desire to be entirely owned.
By the Rhode is dark, just like all the other shops. I have to drop his hand to take out my keys, and Oliver stops only inches behind me. I can feel the strength of his chest against my shoulders.
A rough hand traces my neck lightly as I struggle to unlock the door. It finally swings open and I turn to face him. He’s so close I can feel the warmth of his breath.
“Come inside.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I’ve never been surer of anything in my life as I lead him through the bakery. I’m not usually this confident, take-what-she-wants kind of woman. I’m won’t-have-sex-until-the-third-date Lucy.
I’m let’s-have-the-lights-off-Lucy.
But maybe, just maybe, I want to be someone else with Oliver.
“Mmm,” he murmurs. “This place smells as good at night as it does in the morning.”
“It does?”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.
I stop on the first step up to my studio. We’re nearly the same height like this. His eyes are dark with desire, watching me silently.
I close the distance between us and touch my lips to his. He kisses me back softly, almost reverently, before his tongue snakes out and traces my lower lip. His hands grip my waist and hunger races through my body.
“I’m not having professional thoughts, either,” I tell him. “I haven’t for a good long while.”
His smile is carnal. “I can think of a way to fix that.”
Desire and excitement make it hard to breathe, to think. I pull him up the stairs and into my small studio.
When I’m there alone, the small space is cozy. With the both of us, it’s cramped. I’ve gotten so used to his size that it isn’t until now that I realize just how tall and strong Oliver is. My place feels far too small to contain him.
His takes in the open suitcase shoved in the corner. The tossed pile of books on a chair. The queen-sized mattress that my aunt managed to fit into the room.
“It’s a bit messy,” I say, but it clearly doesn’t matter. His gaze has already returned to me, and I can tell that my lack of tidying is the last thing on his mind.
He sits down onto the two-seater sofa and raises a single eyebrow.
“Come here.”
I take slow, deliberate steps towards him. His arms are open and I sink down across his lap, straddling him. Strong hands grasp my thighs.
“That’s better.” He leans forward and our mouths touch again.
This time it’s slow-it’s methodical. It’s him taking his time, making sure I’m ready for whatever comes next. I can feel the promise in every swipe of his tongue and strong press of his lips. You’re mine, Oliver is saying. I’ll have you tonight.
Yes, I reply with my touch. Please.
Want and need burns through my stomach, heat pooling below. His body is like a rock beneath me. He’s big up close, too-the shoulders hard and wide under my touch. I run my hand down his arm and it’s like granite.
Oliver tugs my head back, giving his lips access to my throat and my collarbones. A gentle hand tugs down the straps to my dress. It falls to my waist and he groans low against my bare skin. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe he’s here, in my apartment. I can’t believe that he’s kissing his way towards the edge of my bra, my hand buried in his silky hair.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs. He tugs down the cup of my bra and pops my nipple into his mouth, and then I’m not thinking at all anymore. Rough hands roam across my body, tugging at my dress until it’s bunched around my waist. I can feel the wetness below, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.
I tug at the hem of his shirt. We break apart long enough for him to pull it off before his lips return to mine. Oliver’s chest is hard and tanned from hours spent working outdoors. I skim the outline of a faint scar, and goosebumps trail my fingertips.
His body is a map of masculinity. I’ve never drawn in my life, but I want to sketch him. Immortalize this moment somehow.
He pulls me closer. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
His hands trail down my back and cups my ass. I’m pulled closer, my nipples rubbing against his chest as he kisses me deeply. I can feel his hardness beneath me, even through his jeans.
I roll my hips. The zipper of his jeans is perfectly placed, giving me the friction I need, and there’s no stopping now. I’m too far gone.
He pushes the hem of my dress up to watch as my panties bunch and rub against his jeans.
“Fucking hell, Lucy,” he growls.
It’s all he says, but I can feel how much he wants me. I can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. I want what he told me about before, out there on the sidewalk. I want to drive him off the cliff of his carefully maintained control.
My hands trail down his chest and taut stomach, finding the zipper of his jeans. “Please, Oliver. Please.”
“One second.” He reaches for something in his back pocket at the same time I manage to get his belt buckle undone. My hand slides inside his boxers.
He hisses as I make contact. Shit, but he’s big. Bigger than I was expecting. There will be some… accommodating to do.
Oliver notices my pause. “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll go as slow as you want. Or not at all.”
I catch his lips between mine again. I don’t want slow. I want all of him, his hardness and blunt edges, his scars, and his blue eyes. The mixture of dominant roughness and his surprising tenderness.
“No,” I say. “I want you tonight.”
Oliver’s hands close around my waist. “You want what I told about earlier?”