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“Why does that surprise you?”
"You're gorgeous. How could the girls resist you?" I asked, my curiosity piqued by Oliver's easy confidence.
He chuckled, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "I was gangly and awkward at the time. It took another year before women were climbing over themselves to date me."
I raised an eyebrow, incredulous. "That's a really arrogant thing to say. What the fuck, Oliver?"
He shrugged, unbothered by my reaction. "I don't make the rules. It's true. I just filled out the summer between my junior and senior years. I started working out, and the next school year, they wouldn’t leave me alone."
I tilted my head, scrutinizing him. "And no one’s caught you since?"
His gaze softened, and he reached out to gently touch my cheek. "Not until you."
A warmth spread through me at his words, but my stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly. I laughed, breaking the tension. "I'm hungry. I need some lunch."
Oliver's eyes darkened with desire. "Well, I need some you."
I smirked, teasing him. "You haven't had enough of me?"
"Nope," he said, his voice low and husky.
Before I could protest, he stood and scooped me into his arms, carrying me to the bedroom. We spent the afternoon making love, the world outside forgotten as we lost ourselves in each other. My stomach growled in protest, but I didn't care.
Later, after we showered, I ordered a ridiculous amount of food off the menu—things I knew would make me sleepy from too many carbs, sugar, and salt. Oliver watched me with amusement as I ate, his laptop open beside him.
When I finished, he tucked me in, his touch tender. He sat on the bed next to me, going over some reports on his laptop. The clicking of his nails on the keyboard was a strangely comforting sound, and I dozed off, feeling safe and content.
Chapter 6
I couldn’t sit still. My excitement buzzed under my skin, making it impossible to focus on the magazine article in my lap. Any minute now, my friends would arrive, and the anticipation was driving me mad.
Across the room, Oliver sat on the couch, sipping brandy and bouncing his knee—a telltale sign of his growing nerves. I noticed he had been drinking more lately, and I hoped it wasn’t because of me. He always got anxious when I went out, but Trevor and Brenda would be with us tonight.
"When will Wilmer and Ivan be here?" I asked, trying to break the silence.
"After you leave," he replied, his voice calm but his eyes betraying his unease.
"What are you doing tonight?" I probed further, hoping to distract him from his worries.
"Heading to Zapata to play a few rounds of pool," he said, taking another sip of his drink.
I smirked, teasing him. "Let me guess, you own that too?"
He chuckled. "Half of it—Jordan Grayson owns the other."
"And another piece of the puzzle falls into place," I said, shaking my head in amusement.
"Puzzle?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"How many collaborations do you have with other companies?"
"A lot. It's good business to work with others. Jordan is an upstanding guy. We should go out to dinner with him and his wife, Emma. I think you'll get along well with her."
"Why?" I asked, curious.
"Why should we go out or why would you get along with Emma?" he clarified.
"Why would I get along with Emma?"
