Page 19 of Almost Us

“Thanks for coming. I’m going to head home and figure out what I’m supposed to do with my time for the next six weeks or so.”

Oliver looks down at me. “No, you’re coming home with me. What if one of these crazies has looked up your home address? It’s not hard to do.”

“They want to ruin my business. It’s closed. Mission accomplished. I’m not worried about them following me home.”

“Well, I am. Either come with me or I’m going home with you.”

I’d like to say I argued with him or even showed another moment of hesitation, but it’s not true. I’m exhausted. The kind of exhausted that sleep doesn’t help. The idea of being alone with my thoughts tonight is awful. “We’ll stay at your place,” I agree. “You probably shouldn’t leave it unguarded either, just to be safe. I need to run by mine first.”

“I’ll follow you.”

* * *

Oliver has been pretty quiet since we got back to his apartment above the shop a couple of hours ago. Neither of us are in the best mood. We try to watch a movie, but I can’t focus on it.

My eyes keep finding their way to him as he sits beside me, his attention on the TV screen. The curve of his stubble covered jaw is particularly interesting. And his lips. Maybe it’s the way he came through for me tonight or the fact he was so worried about keeping me safe. I was scared, and when I called him, he was there within minutes.

Everything is falling apart, and he feels like the only bright spot.

One of his legs sits propped on the other, the calf muscle clearly outlined. His shorts hide his thighs, but his chest is bare and the urge to run my fingers through the thin hair there is strong. My gaze wanders slowly up his body until I’m looking into his eyes.

Damn it. I’m busted.

The same longing and hunger reside in his expression. He doesn’t hesitate to lean over and bridge the gap between us. The kiss he delivers is scorching and it’s everything I can do not to climb into his lap.

He doesn’t want this. Not really. Not when I’m still so fucked up.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe, standing up. “I should get ready for bed.” My face flushes with heat while I retreat to his bedroom. He insisted on sleeping on the couch so I can have his bed, despite my attempt to argue with him that I’d be happy to take the couch.

I scrub my hand over my face. Why is he so hard to resist tonight? It’s been a terrible day, a terrible week, and the last thing on my mind should be sex with anyone, but my body doesn’t seem to agree.

Annoyed with myself and frustrated as hell, I undress and change into a long tee shirt and underwear. My hair gets let loose from its bun, falling to my shoulders. As I lay my hair tie on his dresser, Oliver steps up behind me and sweeps the hair off my neck. Fingers trace over my collarbone.

My eyes fall closed at the feel of his lips brushing my neck, and a little hum slips out.

His voice is soft. “That look on your face is killing me. Tell me what you’re thinking about right now.”

My tongue darts out to lick my lips before the truth falls from them. “I’m thinking about how badly I want to be bent over this dresser and fucked.”

His hand comes around and cups me between my legs. He slowly pulls me back against him until I can feel his bulge against my ass. “Is that really what you want, Ella? Because I’m tired of fighting this and I know you are too.”

“Yes,” I whisper, grinding my ass against him. I am tired of it. Tired of worrying about what’s right or wrong. Tired of questioning every feeling I have.

“Then take your panties off and bend over.”

His order throws goosebumps over me from head to toe. He watches me take them off, then grasps the hem of my shirt before I can turn around. It gets tossed onto his bed. His gaze darkens with desire as it slowly rolls down my body.

He shoves the few items sitting on his dresser to the floor. “Bend over and grab the far edge. Don’t let go.”

There is no better combination than a sweet man who sheds that trait at the bedroom door. Last time, I was the one who initiated things. This time, he’s in control.

As I obey, he strips off his shorts and underwear. My eyes close involuntarily when he bends over me to deliver hot, sucking kisses to the back of my neck. All the tension built up in my muscles over the last week loosens. My breasts ache against the cool, smooth surface. I’m melting under his hands and mouth, and he’s barely gotten started.

The weight and heat of his body leaves mine and is replaced by the slide of his fingertips down my neck. They travel down my spine to my tailbone. “Your back is so fucking sexy,” he says. “These dimples.” He brings his mouth to one of the two divots above my ass and drags his teeth over it.

I’m going to burn up on the spot.

He slips a finger between my legs and rubs softly over my clit. The sensation it delivers tells me I’m going to come fast. I’m so worked up. “I love how wet you get,” he says, his voice huskier than I’ve ever heard it.

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