Page 179 of The Catalyst

CHAPTER 70

BETH

Oliver’s arm tightens around my waist as he snuggles up against my backside, pressing his face into my hair. It’s so early that I can’t open my eyes yet, and just the feel of him right there brings me peace at a time when the world is so chaotic. I run my fingers down his arm, and he groans against the back of my neck.

“Sleep.” His lips barely move against my skin, but the single word meets my ear, and a smile pulls at my lips.

This thing between us is so toxic it puts the early days of me and Nigel to shame, but I’m glad he’s here.

“I love you,” I mumble before pressing my face into my pillow. His only response is a hum, and that bothers me.

He’s never actually said it back. His only response the first time I said it to him was, “me, too,” so it was a confirmation that he returned my feelings, but it's been eating at me that he’s never said the words.

Turning over in bed, I bury my face in his chest, tracing the big skull surrounded by roses on his pec. “Why don’t you ever say it back?”

His grip on me tightens, and his chest stills for a moment before he sucks in another breath.

“I’ve said it.”

A smirk tugs on my cheeks. “No, you haven’t.”

“I haven’t?”

“No.”

“Huh.” He groans, stretching his long body before putting his arms back around me. “You’re right. I haven’t. That’s weird.”

I snicker. Sleepy Oliver is a lot like drunk Oliver. He gets a little goofy and way less grumpy.

“Well?” I press, and his lips lazily kiss along my temple as he pulls me tighter to him.

“I love you, crazy girl. You and you alone.”

The rush that moves through my body and settles between my thighs is something I’ve never experienced before. It’s not arousal, but it affects me the same way. I want to feel him joining me physically just as deeply as he is emotionally, but we are still way too tired for that.

“I love you, too.” Then, his lips ghost across mine, and he pulls me into him, making me lay my head on his chest like an obedient little toy, which he knows I am not. However, I’m really sleepy, so I don’t fight him.

My eyes trail along his chest and up to his neck, where I catch something I didn’t notice before.

A new tattoo. It’s so small it could easily be missed, just a simple calligraphy tattoo, but the words bring tears to my eyes.

I’m with you. Always.

It’s our thing, what we always say to each other, and he tattooed it on his flesh.

“When did you get this?” My voice cracks as I run my finger along the smooth words. It couldn’t have been in the last week. The skin is too even.

“A month ago.”

He got a tattoo for me before the accident, before the contract, before Nigel was arrested, and before he knew we might actually have a chance to be together in any way.

He put me on his skin to memorialize our time together, and that on its own is better than any declaration of love.

* * *

Oliver wakesme a few hours later with his hands kneading my ass and his tongue teasing the column of my throat. I whimper as he nips at the hollow of my neck and presses his hips into mine.

“Morning.” My fingers run through his hair as he trails down before sucking a nipple into his mouth, licking and biting it until the areola is a bright purple and throbs on his tongue. He knows I love how rough he gets with my body. “You’re so fucking perfect.” He growls as he flips me onto my back and forces my legs apart, pushing them down to the bed so I’m fully exposed to him. Oliver teases me with the head of his cock, sliding it through my wetness, and I moan, begging and pleading for him to give it to me.

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