Page 86 of The Wrecked One

“Who knew it was possible to grunt words. You’re a pro.” Under the covers now, I contemplated killing the lights and letting him win, but I wasn’t ready to concede quite yet.

“Sleep.”

“Grunt, grunt, grunt.”

That time, he looked right at me, but it was only so I’d see his dramatic eye roll.

“It’s too bad we’re flying on Carter’s smaller jet, the one without the bedroom. I was hoping we could finally make use of that room, too.”

My out-of-left-field statement had his jaw dropping and his hand falling to his lap. It was short-lived, his mouth quickly snapping shut, but I could tell my name was probably on the edge of his tongue. And I wasn’t sure if he’d hiss it as a warning or murmur it as an, If only we could.

“Your parents may be evil and keeping secrets from you, and you’re teasing about joining the mile-high club?” He cocked a brow, skipping over using my name.

“What makes you think I haven’t joined that club?” Instead of being a brat in hopes it’d get him to shockingly peel back his layers like it often worked in the past, I should have told him what was really on my mind—that I needed a distraction from reality. From pigeons and wheels. And my parents possibly being evil.

At the same time, I was also relieved no one on our team was hurt, and that Steve’s mom and sister were okay, so I didn’t feel guilty about wanting to escape for a few minutes.

“Don’t do that.” He stood, striding over to the bed. “I know you’re trying to piss me off to get me to talk, but . . .”

With Oliver’s lips twisting into a grimace, remorse over my awful joke hit me, and my guilt intensified, threatening to choke me.

“I don’t want you hiding your pain with jokes anymore, as much as I’m sure you don’t want me doing the same.”

I could feel another point coming from him. He scrunched his face as if the idea of me having sex with anyone else, anywhere, was akin to eating poison. Sea, land, or in the air.

“And also, don’t make me jealous. I’m too unhinged for those comments, kidding or not. I just might murder another innocent man for the crime of ever having made love to you.” His expression morphed from angry to sad to angry in a flash. “Now that you know I’m capable of murder, don’t test me.”

“You’re not a murderer.” I lowered the covers and swung my legs over, resting my feet on the floor and looking up at him, but not rising to meet him. “And to be clear, I’m not in that club. No need for jealousy.”

His eyes flicked down my body, landing between my legs, his gaze inciting an unexpected level of arousal in me. I’d wanted an escape, but . . . was I wanting it in the form of an orgasm? A release it seemed only Oliver could provide me?

“You’re wrong about the killer part.” God, he sounded so defeated, and I hated it.

“Oliver.” I stood, and my one step closer sent him back two. “So stubborn.”

“That’s my line for you, buttercup.” His nostrils flared, a sign he regretted the use of my nickname.

I had to get him out of his head and to a safe space. He was drowning in pain and darkness, and that was the last place he deserved to be. It was a place created and flourishing in lies and deception. I had to share the truth about my feelings for him.

Working up the courage, I admitted, “I’ve never made love before you. Sex and love are different. And what we had, and still have, is worth fighting for. I refuse to give up on you or us.”

The continued look of defeat twined with sadness was not the reaction I’d hoped for.

“What do you want from me?” he rasped, the pain in his tone breaking me in half.

“Right now, or?—”

“Tonight,” he said under his breath. “How can I make you feel better tonight?”

And tomorrow, and the next day. And all the days after that. But I’d work with what he’d give me for now and go from there. “I want you to sleep next to me. I’m a bit relentless when it comes to getting what I want.”

“I can’t do that.” He slowly met my eyes. “What else?”

He stared at me, offering a textbook example of what it meant when eyes darkened with desire. Brows drawn, he slipped his gaze to the hem of my shirt, and my hand fell right along the trail, and I lifted it.

“Then touch me like I want you to, and like I’m pretty sure you want to do.”

He’d never set his hand between my thighs in that tub, and now that was all I wanted him to do. I needed him to free me from my problems for a handful of moments and take away the bad, and replace it with something good.

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