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"Your shirt is long enough to cover my ass," I retorted, feeling a blush creep up my neck.
"But I know you have none on," he teased, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
I chuckled. I knew what I was doing. Maybe I would tease him, accidentally on purpose dropping something on the floor I would need to bend over to pick up.
I met his gaze, a challenge in my eyes. "What are you going to do about it?"
Oliver's smirk widened into a grin. "You'll see."
"Would telling you I'm sore be a deterrent?" Oliver's voice, husky and laced with desire, filled the room.
"Maybe for a little while," I replied, a smirk playing on my lips.
"Get up so we can eat," I urged, glancing over at him.
"Go ahead. I'll be there in a minute. I just remembered I need to make a call," Oliver said, his eyes flicking to his phone.
"For business?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Yes," he confirmed with a nod, already dialing.
"It's 4:30 on a Saturday. Are all your associates as bad as you?" I teased, folding my arms.
"No, I'm the baddest," he shot back with a grin, his confidence palpable.
"Get over yourself," I retorted, shaking my head with a chuckle as I headed towards the door.
As I made my way to the kitchen, the faint sound of Oliver's voice on the phone followed me down the hall. I made myself at home, grabbing a fork from the drawer and opening the container of crab salad.
A few minutes later, Oliver emerged, dressed only in a pair of form-fitting gray boxers. The way they hugged his thighs and accentuated his ass sent a shiver down my spine, reminding me of what drew me to him in the first place.
My eyes traveled his body, fixing on his legs. “Those look good on you. You look good.”
His eye lit up with mischief. “Good enough to eat?”
I jutted my chin out. “If you want me to, I will.”
“Tempting but let’s eat first.”
I didn’t get to pleasure Oliver as much as I wanted to. He was all about my satisfaction, but sometimes I needed to return the favor.
"I’ll put it on hold for now," I said, a hint of reluctance in my voice.
He kissed me, his tongue teasing my bottom lip before he pulled away. "You taste yummy."
"My lips or something else?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Everything," he replied, his eyes dark with desire.
I giggled, a blush spreading across my cheeks. "Sounds about right."
"Now who’s the one acting arrogant?" he teased, a playful smirk on his lips.
"Maybe just a little," I admitted, my smile widening.
We spent the rest of the day relaxing on the patio, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow over us. I sunned myself while Oliver read beside me, occasionally reaching over to trace patterns on my skin. As the sun began to set, we watched the sky transform into a tapestry of oranges before heading inside for dinner.
That night, I slept in Oliver’s arms, feeling safe and content. In the early hours of the morning, he gently woke me, his touch igniting a familiar desire. We made love, our movements slow and tender, savoring every moment until the first light of dawn began to creep through the curtains.
