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Still, I feel awkward and shy when I wake up next to him. It was different in the middle of the night when moonlight illuminated his features and mine. What happens at midnight doesn’t count at daybreak, right? Late night conversations, confidences—all of it looks different when put under the bright lights of the early morning. I'm not sure what else to do except move forward with our plans.
If I don’t want to fall in love, we have to stop having sex. Every time he’s near me, he finds more cracks in my defenses, slipping through without me even noticing. I can’t risk being vulnerable like that.
But how can I stop it? He’s going to bemy husband.
Ollie’s sitting up in bed, staring at me with a look on his face I can’t quite decipher. I roll over onto my side as if somehow putting a few feet between us will actually save me. I'm no fool though—I know it won't.
"Good morning."
There's a swift knock at the door, followed by a deep, gruff voice. "I have what you ordered, sir."
Ollie sits up in bed, frowning, every single cell of his being on alert. I'm instantly on guard myself.
He leaps out of bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, and marches over to the door. "Stay there," he snaps at me.
My God, he's scared of everything. We're in his family's house, for God's sake.
"Who is it?" he snaps.
I don’t recognize the Russian name.
Ollie curses. "I told you not untilafterthe wedding," he says. “Take it back.”
Take what back?
I hear a little squeak and a bark. I stare, my mouth agape. Was that…?No.
What?
Ollie spins around and looks at me, pointing an irate finger in my direction. "I am opening this door. Pull that fucking blanket up over you."
I look down at myself on instinct. I forgot I’m naked.
“Jesus. Calm the hell down, dude.” He glares at me, and my butt clenches. Still, I want to see what's on the other side of the door, so I don't give him shit and instead, do exactly what he tells me.
He opens the door, and all of a sudden, a little fluffy white ball comes running into the room and leaps onto the bed. "Off the bed!" he snaps in a growl. But it's too late. I have a wriggling, adorable little ball of fluff licking my face and wagging his tail so hard his entire body is shaking. "Oh my God, you got me a puppy?"
He stands at the foot of the bed, watching us with that brooding scowl of his. “You like him?” There’s something softer behind the question, something he’s not ready to show.
I can’t stop laughing as I try—and fail—to dodge the puppy’s barrage of kisses. His wriggling joy reminds me of something soft and pure I didn’t know I still had in me.
I feel like I'm going to cry. "Like him? He’s perfect. Oh my God, he’s awesome." He remembered that I wasn’t allowed to have a dog when I was little. I always wanted one. My throat feels tight. Maybe Ollie doesn’t hate me, but even if he does… this sweet little angel won’t. I bury my face in his tiny, wriggling body.
“He can’t stay in the bed, and he has to be trained in a dog obedience school,” he rumbles. “And if he has accidents?—”
He rises up on his hind legs and licks Ollie’s hand. He pauses, mid-rant and frowns.
"He wasn't supposed to come now," he says, glaring at the door. The big guard looks sheepish and shrugs. "I wanted him to be a wedding present.” He looks up at the guard, then shakes hishead. “Jesus. Get the hell out of here," he snaps, putting himself between me and the guard so he doesn't see my bare shoulder.
"Do you want me to take the puppy away until later, sir?”
"Yes," he snaps at the same time I yell, "No! Take the puppy? What are you gonna do with him?" I snatch him to my chest, and I swear he almost purrs like a cat. I can't help it. I start talking in a little baby voice. "He knows his mama. Don't you, sweetie? The sweetest thing I ever saw. I love you." And he licks at my face as Ollie curses in Russian.
"Leave him for now and get the fuck out of here," he snaps. The door slams shut behind him.
Ha! Score.
"I can't believe you got me a puppy," I say to him. "I thought you hated me."
