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I scroll through his test results silently before handing his phone back to him. He swallows, tugging at his tie. That nervousness that I saw in his eyes at the ball is back.
“You okay?” Just like I did earlier, I stand, bringing my fingers up to graze his cheek. The skin-on-skin contact with him makes me shiver.
With a frown, he shrugs his jacket off and drapes it over my shoulders. “Yes.” But his voice is tight, his movements too sharp.
My face falls, and a slight ache begins to build in my chest. He’s been tense all night, and now, looking back over their visits to the coffee shops, he’s always been distant.
Red creeps onto my cheeks as I remember how I begged him to kiss me. “You don’t want me.”
He lets out a strangled breath. As I take a step back, he takes one forward. Tears—of rejection or embarrassment, I’m not sure—fill my eyes. But he grabs my hand, placing it over his erection.
“Does this feel like I don’t want you?” Then he moves my hand to his chest, right over his heart. It’s thumping so hard I’m afraid the man might have a heart attack. “What about this?”
I frown. “But you—”
“Forget about it.”
“But—but Rhett, you—”
“Jesus, Wren.” He grabs my face in both hands and slams his mouth against mine. He bites my bottom lip like he’s angry at me for making him want me, but then he slides his tongue into my mouth like he needs to devour me.
When he pulls away, my knees are weak. That insatiable lust is back in his eyes, and when a tear falls onto my cheek, he licks it away.
I want to ask him what’s going on in his head, but I have a feeling he’s not going to tell me. And as he steps away from me, the guys return. Elliot has tucked himself back in, which is disappointing, but I guess I wouldn’t want to walk around the house with my dick hanging out, either.
After looking over their test results, Oliver pulls me back onto his lap and peppers my neck with kisses.
“You’re sure you don’t mind that I don’t have proof?” I ask. It comes out in between shallow breaths as Oliver tweaks my nipples with his fingers.
“We don’t say things we don’t mean, love.” Elliot gives me a heated look. He’s leaning against his dresser, watching as Oliver explores my body.
I swallow, deciding that’s a good enough answer. My hands go to Oliver’s shirt as I work on the buttons with shaky fingers. Unlike Elliot, he lets me slip it off his shoulders. I moan as I take him in, kissing the butterfly tattoo on his chest. It’s the same one Rhett has tattooed on the back of his right hand.
“Let me get my pants off, princess.” With ease, Oliver lifts me off of him and onto the bed. He stands, undoing his belt and pants in record time. He shoves everything to the floor before pulling me to the edge of the bed. “Lie back and close your eyes. Just focus on what you feel.”
I do what he says, but I struggle to keep my eyes closed. I want to watch as he slides into me. Cocking an eyebrow at me, he lines himself up at my entrance.
Oh god.
“What did I say, princess?”
I groan. “Eyes closed.”
“And relax. Your head shouldn’t move from the mattress. Understood?”
With a dramatic sigh, I do what he says. But I can’t help the smile that plays across my lips.
When he finally enters me, I let out a groan. He does too, his hands pushing on my thighs to open me even more to him.
“Oliver,” I moan, and I can’t help it. I open my eyes, raising my head to watch him. He grunts when our gazes meet, and I reach out so my fingers can brush against his hard stomach.
“Close your eyes, Wren.” The words come from Rhett. When I look over at him, something stirs deep inside of me. His tie is gone, and he’s undone a few of the buttons of his dress shirt. But what really catches my eye is the way he’s pulled himself out of his pants and is stroking himself.
“Oh god,” I whisper.
I feel myself clench around Oliver. He slams into me harder, and I know I should listen, but I can’t manage to tear my eyes away from Rhett.
With an amused huff, he stalks toward us and climbs on the bed. “You just can’t seem to listen tonight, can you?” He grabs my arms and pins them to the bed.
