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“What about me? I have self-control.”
“Is that to say that I don’t?”
“Ryleigh, stop arguing with me and turn on your side so I can cuddle you.”
I smiled in the dark and moved to my side. Oliver took me in his arms and tucked his chin against my shoulder. It was the last thing I remembered—besides his erection pressed into my back—as I fell asleep.
When I woke up the next morning, Oliver was still next to me. I see his gorgeous face in the light that’s seeping in from around the curtains. During the night, I turned in his arms and was now facing his chest. I planted kisses on the muscled flesh and a rumble escaped from him.
As I blinked my eyes open to the soft light filtering through the curtains, Oliver's voice greeted me. "Good morning. I thought I was dreaming."
I couldn't help the smirk that tugged at my lips. "About what?" I inquired, teasingly.
"You in my arms. I like having you in my arms," he confessed, his tone warm and genuine.
"I like it. I like you," I responded, though the truth flickered behind my words. My heart belonged to Oliver, but admitting it felt like stepping into a whirlwind of uncertainty. I had fallen into this situation so quickly, it was hard to untangle myself.
His smile widened. "I’m glad to hear that. Can I interest you in some breakfast?"
I raised an eyebrow. "How do you know I have anything here to eat?"
"I’m not asking to eat breakfast here. Come to my apartment," he suggested, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
"You want me to go all the way to your apartment to eat brunch?" I quipped.
"Brunch. You won’t be disappointed. You owe me," he reminded me, a playful glint in his eyes.
I leaned in, trailing a kiss along his chest. "I owe you for what?"
"Last night. It’s your turn to please me," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.
"I wanted to, but you said no," I reminded him, feeling a pang of frustration mingled with longing.
"Not with sex. Come home with me. Let me feed you," he urged gently.
"Can we eat on the patio?" I asked, my mind already envisioning the warm sunlight dappling our skin as we dined al fresco.
"If that’s your pleasure, we can," he acquiesced with a smile.
As Oliver sat up, I took a moment to admire the contours of his body, resisting the urge to trace kisses along his skin.
"Should I shower?" I asked, breaking the moment.
"You can, unless you want to do it at my place," he suggested, a hint of temptation lacing his words.
"That’s tempting in more ways than one," I remarked, my eyes lingering on him suggestively.
"It would be a shower, nothing else," he clarified.
My heart raced at the thought of being so close to him.
"I’ll take a quick one here," I decided, slipping out of bed and heading for the bathroom.
He watched me go, a soft smile playing on his lips. When I emerged from the shower, Oliver was already dressed and fussing with his hair in front of the mirror.
"Leave it messy, I like it that way," I suggested, stepping up beside him.
"I don’t," he replied, his attention still on his reflection.
