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I pull out a pair of gray sweatpants, and I see her slipping into the sweater out of the corner of my eye. I pick up a pair of socks and pass them to her. Then, I take out a pair of slides and step out of the dressing room to set them beside her feet.
She uses my shoulder as an anchor as she slips into the socks and the slides. She looks… I chuckle, lacking the right words to describe her.
Everything she is wearing—down to the socks—looks oversized, but I love my clothes on her. I want her to wear everything I own. Every time she wore my jacket or sports shirt in high school, it was like a dress for her. Seeing her like this awakens so many fond memories.
I shrug out of my sweater, feeling her eat me with her eyes. I don’t want to violate her privacy, but I’m dying for her to look at me like that. So, I take my time to change out of my jeans and sweater, leaving my briefs on, and then into the sweatpants.
I stretch my hand out to her after I toss our discarded clothes into the laundry box in the corner, and as she takes my hand, I lead her to my king-size bed.
I now realize that I have always slept on one side of the bed; my subconscious has always made me feel like I was waiting for someone to take up the other side.
She climbs on the bed and goes under the white comforter. I do the same but stretch out my arm for her.
“Come here, Olivia,” I reach out to stroke her hair, letting the pad of my fingers grate her scalp in that way I know she used to love,.
She melts and then drags her body over to me to place her head on my arm.
I get another flash of Cesare’s sneering eyes, and I breathe, focusing on having the woman of my dreams in my arms.
“This feels like the sweetest of dreams,” a thought that slips past my lips because I never thought Olivia would be in my arms would again.
“Yes,” she whispers back.
I don’t ever want this night to end.
Chapter Twenty
OLIVIA
Day 7
I have never known a happier morning, and by the grin on my face, anyone can attest to it.
“Good morning, Liam,” I set a plate of waffles and a tall glass of cranberry juice in front of him on the kitchen island as he grabs a stool to sit on.
“Looks like you had the best night of your life,” he chuckles. I shrug, then set another breakfast plate not far away from him.
“I can’t say the same for you, though,” I tease. He looks a little worn out and not at his best, considering the way the collar of his white shirt is not properly arranged.
“Some days I hate my life,” he bites from his waffles. Some days,” he puffs, “I need this.” He picks up his cranberry juice and sips, making my smile wider.
My smile whisks into a full-out beam as Ronan steps into the kitchen.
He held me while I fell sleep last night.
I blush at the thought and the residual feeling of warmth in my stomach. I inhaled his scent. His soft snoring was like a lullaby. And the strong feel of his muscles against my soft curves was better than any mattress.
When I woke up, I felt completely refreshed. I’m not sure he noticed as I slipped out of his arms, but I did press a soft kiss on his cheek before getting out of the bed to make us breakfast.
“Good morning,” I point at his breakfast, and he nods at me.
“Good morning,” he says with a softer than usual voice. He seems a bit more relaxed. Still in his sweatpants but wearing a black T-shirt.
“Nice sweater,” Liam says to me, stuffing his mouth with more waffles.
It’s the same sweater from last night. I catch Ronan shooting him the killer stare, but Liam seems careless with his shrug.
“What are we doing this morning?” Ronan changes the conversation, and Liam sits a little straighter.
