by Sophie Stern
“My name is Oliver Lyon,” I take a deep breath as I look at the uniformed man in front of me. “This is Anna Donovan. This is her place of residence. I arrived about 10 minutes ago and noticed the back door was damaged. When I came inside, a man was in her bedroom. He had broken in.”
“Did you recognize the man?” The officer is writing everything down. I can see his partner walking around the house, checking things out as we talk.
“Yes,” Anna says. “His name is Carl Mortimer. He’s my stepfather.”
“And he broke into your house?”
“Yes.”
“Did he say anything to you?”
“He was threatening me,” Anna says, and I squeeze her hand. She’s being so brave, so strong right now. Talking to the police is never easy. Even in my line of work, I find talking with law enforcement to be difficult sometimes. She takes a deep breath, and then she tells the officer, “I’d like to press charges.”
Chapter 11
Anna
I shouldn’t be so relieved to have Oliver. I shouldn’t be so relieved that he’s offered to marry me. I should have turned him down. I shouldn’t have told him I’d be his bride.
The offer was too enticing, though, and not because it means I’ll get what my father left me.
It was enticing because it means I’ll get Oliver.
I’ll get to be with him for an entire year.
I’ll get to be in his bed and in his arms. I’ll get to spend hours talking to him. I’ll get to fall asleep in his arms and wake up naked next to him. I’ll get to be his completely.
Even if is only for a year.
By the time the police leave my house, it’s well past midnight and I’m exhausted, but I’m terrified to go to sleep. The back door is completely destroyed. I’ll have to go get a new one tomorrow.
Oliver notices me eyeing the door warily and he wraps his arms around my waist.
“Come home with me,” he says.
“Tonight?”
“Every night, but especially tonight.”
“You don’t think we’re moving too quickly? We’ve only just met.”
“I think we’re moving at the appropriate pace for the situation.”
“You don’t think this is a mistake?”
“Do you?”
“No, but…”
“What is it, Anna?” He crooks his finger and lifts my chin so my eyes meet his. “Tell me what you’re worried about.”
“I’m worried this isn’t fair to you,” I tell him. “I’m getting a husband and my inheritance and you don’t get anything out of it.”
“I get to spend a year with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he says. “And that’s worth everything to me. I don’t know if you’ve figured this out about me, Anna, but I don’t get close to people. Ever. I never, ever get close to people. I don’t feel comfortable with them and I like my privacy. I’ve had relationships before where I was used, and now I have a hard time trusting women.”
I swallow, hard.
“But I don’t have a hard time trusting you,” he says. “Somehow, and I don’t know why, sweetie, but somehow, I feel completely comfortable with you.”
“Me too,” I admit. “I feel like we’ve known each other our entire lives. Why is that, Oliver? It’s so weird. I never feel like this with people. I never feel comfortable like this.”
“I don’t know. I know you’re thinking we’re mates, Anna, and I don’t believe in that, so I can’t promise this is going to be some fairytale romance, but I will protect you with my life. I will take care of you. I will make sure everything is okay.”
“I believe you.”
“Why don’t we pack a couple of bags for you? You can come home with me tonight and then tomorrow, we’ll get your door fixed. Do you own your house?”
“No,” I shake my head. “I rent.”
“When’s your lease up?”
“Next month.”
“Don’t renew it. You can come live with me. I’ll help you move all of your stuff.”
“Are you sure we aren’t rushing things?”
“Anna, when it comes to you, I can’t get you back in my bed fast enough. Come on,” he takes my hand and leads me toward the stairs. “Let’s get you packed, baby.”
*
Over the weekend, the guys move Joyce into Landon’s old apartment unit and they move me into Oliver’s. It’s quite the task, but with a lot of beer and a lot of pizza, we make it happen. Somehow, the house doesn’t seem too full or packed. I think it helps that there are three separate apartment units on three separate floors.
It also helps that everyone is actually really nice and truly cares about each other.
We have a great time getting Joyce settled in her new apartment and then we get me settled, as well. I still can’t believe how much crap I have. Apparently, becoming a pack rat is easy when you have an extra bedroom for “stuff.” We make several trips to the thrift store to drop off various items I no longer want or need, including extra furniture and lots of clothes I held onto because I thought I might wear them “someday.”
Oliver keeps telling me, Your future is now.
The craziest part is that I actually believe him.
I feel so much less stressed, so much less worried. I finally feel like everything in my life is going to be just fine, and when I walk into work on Monday morning, the only thing I feel is happiness. I pour my coffee, chat with Rita, and fly through my classes. Somehow, my students all perform wonderfully, and I definitely believe they all did their homework.
The day is looking up.
Everything is looking up.
When I get home, Oliver and I talk about our days over dumplings and rice, and then he makes love to me in his bed over and over and over. He fucks me until I can’t think straight, until the only thing I’m thinking about is how long it’ll be until my next orgasm. He makes love to me deeply, passionately, sweetly, and I can’t help but wonder how I ever managed to live without him.
I’m quickly becoming addicted to him and that’s not necessarily a good thing. We aren’t even married yet and already, I can’t imagine life without him. The truth is that I don’t want to get divorced from Oliver after a year. I don’t want to split up after we’ve satisfied the requirements of the trust. I don’t want to do any of that stuff.
All I want is to be with him.
It doesn’t make sense that I’m becoming so attached to him. I’ve never felt this way about a man before. Then again, I’ve never had someone show me such kindness before. Am I reading too much into the situation? Am I hoping for something that’s impossible?
Oliver and I decide to have a small wedding ceremony on the first floor of the mansion. There’s a large sitting room that’s perfect for a sweet, informal wedding. The only friends we really want there are the other shifters who work at Casa, Fee, and Lyon. I don’t have any family members to invite, but Oliver’s parents will be there.
There are three weeks until the wedding. Three weeks and then we’ll be married. Three weeks and then I’ll be Mrs. Oliver Lyon.
The entire weeks flies by in a blur of hugs and sex and work. When the weekend arrives, Joyce and I go to wine club together, as usual. We missed the last class because we were both busy moving, so it feels good to get back into our usual routine again.
After class, the two of us go to a nearby sports bar and order a couple of beers.
“The time for being classy is over,” Joyce holds up her beer and I hold up mine. We toast to the night and to friendship, and then we start drinking.
“How are you doing?” I finally ask her. I know what happened between her and Logan and I know she’s completely overwhelmed with the situation. Anyone would be. It’s not fair what happened. It’s especially not fair that it happened to someone like Joyce.
“Meh,” she sips her beer. “I’ve been better.”
“Has he tried to contact you?”
“I blocked his number,” she says. “I’m too pissed
. I don’t want to deal with him right now.”
“Probably for the best. You don’t want to threaten him and then have the cops questioning you about it.” Joyce doesn’t lose her temper often, but when she loses it, she really loses it.
“Exactly. Besides, what do I have to say to him? ‘You’re a dick’ or ‘fuck off’ hardly seem strong enough for what he did.”
“He’s an asshole,” I agree.
“Most men are,” the bartendress says as she walks by.
Joyce and I hold up our beers in unison, silently agreeing.
“I know there’s someone out there for me,” Joyce says. “I know you and Ollie don’t believe in mates, but I do, and I think that when you find that perfect person, you just know. I think you just…you get a feeling deep in your bones, and you just know. I never felt that way with Logan. I mean, he was sexy and fun and friendly. We had a lot of fun together, but I never questioned if he was my mate. I think if you aren’t questioning it, then they’re not the one. You know?”
“Maybe,” I say quietly, but I don’t really know.
“You and Ollie,” she says. “Now there’s a pair I wouldn’t have dreamed up.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’re bold. You’re outgoing. You’re passionate. He’s quiet. He’s not shy, but he’s always kept to himself. He’s not very outgoing. Honestly, he’s not really much of a people person at all, but he’s different around you. He’s more confident. He’s braver, in a way. You’re good for each other.” She sips her beer and shakes her head. “Such a silly lion.”
“He doesn’t like that.”
“What?”
“Don’t call him a lion,” I say, suddenly feeling protective. “He’s a tiger. You shouldn’t call him a lion.”
“Is that right?” Joyce looks a little surprised, but I don’t say anything else, I just nod, and she shrugs.
“I like him a lot,” I admit.
“I should hope so. You’re marrying him.”
“He feels obligated to marry me,” I point out.
“Oliver? Feel obligated? If there’s one thing he’s never felt, honey, it’s obligation. He might have fed you that line so you wouldn’t feel bad, but if Oliver Lyon is asking to marry you, it’s because he fucking wants to.”
“Really?” I sip my beer. “But why would he want to do that? It doesn’t make any sense. We’re going to get divorced after a year and then he’ll be a divorcee. Wouldn’t it make more sense for him to just leave me on my own and hope for the best with a judge?”
“You’re still meeting with a judge?”
“Yeah,” I tell her. “Oliver totally got a meeting next week. Then, if the judge doesn’t say yes to altering the terms of the trust, we’ll go through with the wedding.”
“I’ve never seen Oliver like this,” Joyce tells me. “And I’ve known him for years. If you ask me, honey, he’s your mate, and you’re his. You’re so damn good together. You both make each other happy, and if the sounds you make at night are any indication, I’d say you’re sexually compatible, too.”
Fuck.
Joyce lives downstairs now, which means there isn’t an extra floor between us and the next inhabitants of the house.
So she hears everything we do at night, everything we say. Oliver and I aren’t exactly quiet lovers.
“I’m so sorry,” I quickly blurt out, but Joyce just starts laughing.
“Don’t be. Like I said, you’re good together. You should believe in him as much as he believes in you, honey, because if I know Oliver, he’s not going to quietly accept a divorce after a year. He’s going to want to keep you, and can you really blame him? You’re basically totally perfect for him, sweetie. You’re his match. Like it or not, you’re fated to be together.”
Chapter 12
Oliver
Anna comes home from her night out with Joyce and stumbles into the apartment we share now. It’s still strange to think of this place as “our” apartment. A little wave of happiness washes over me when I think about it. I still can’t believe she agreed to marry me. I still can’t believe how happy she makes me. I still can’t believe how damn lucky I am.
People spend their whole lives looking for someone to love and Anna basically fell into mine. Just over a week ago we were strangers. We had no idea who the other person was. We were just living our lives, not even knowing what we were missing.
Only now I know.
Now I know what I’m missing and there’s a part of me that feels like I could never go back.
Fuck it: all of me feels like I could never go back.
I don’t want to live a life without Anna in it. She’s sunshine and rainbows and kittens. She’s flowers on a bright summer day. She’s the sun in the sky. She’s fantastic. She’s lovely.
And the thought of losing her in twelve months breaks my heart more than it should.
“Did you have fun tonight?” I smile when she closes the door behind her. She stumbles a little as she walks, but laughs and smiles.
“So much fun.”
“Did you girls get into trouble?”
“Only a little.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“The kind where Joyce makes out with a stranger at the bar.”
“I thought you went to a sports bar. Isn’t that kind of a family place?”
Anna bursts into laughter. “I know! I couldn’t believe it, either. There were no kids there. There were no families. It wasn’t a dingy place, though. It was more of a restaurant. She had a good time, though. I think he did, too.”
“Good for Joyce. She needs to move on.”
“Exactly. Exactly what I said.” She nods and points to me. Then she nods some more. “Joyce deserves better than stupid Logan. Now she has Wyatt. Wyatt is nice. Also, Joyce says he’s a really good kisser, so she’s got that going for her.”
“They didn’t go home together?”
“No. She said goodnight and we took an Uber back.”
“What are you going to do now?” I ask. I haven’t moved from my spot on the sofa. I’m too curious about what drunk-Anna is going to do. I can’t wait to see what she’s like when she’s tipsy. The thing about drinking is that you can never predict exactly what people will be like once they’ve had a couple of cocktails.
Will they become really loud?
Obnoxious?
Mean?
Will they be overly friendly or overly sleepy?
Will they be funnier than usual?
Will they be horny?
“I have some time. I could do anything. I could listen to music right now, if I wanted.”
“Would you like me to put some on?”
“Yes.”
I grab my phone and put on my favorite Spotify playlist. It’s filled with 80s love ballads and rock music and it’s exactly what this moment needs. Pour Some Sugar on Me comes on loud and clear and Anna starts swaying her hips.
“I love this song.”
“Me too.”
She comes closer to me, but slowly. She moves with a grace most drunk people don’t possess. She sings as she walks, dancing across the room, until she’s right in front of me.
She whips her shirt off and throws it aside, then climbs onto my lap and continues dancing there. I’m instantly hard and ready for her. I’m immediately ready for more, but even though she’s still tipsy, Anna isn’t going to give it up so easily.
She’s going to make me wait.
She grips my shoulders as she grinds on me, moving to the music. Her breasts bounce in my face and I hold onto her hips as she moves. Slowly, I trace my fingers up her spine to her bra and undo the clasp. Her bra falls to the floor and her breasts are free.
“Naughty boy,” she laughs, but then I suck one of her nipples into my mouth and she stops talking, stops moving. “Oh,” she whispers. For a brief second, I think she’s going to push me away and keep dancing, but she doesn’t. Instead, Anna pulls me closer to her. She grasps my hair, holding me in place, and
I lick and suck her breast.
“Now the other one,” she says after a minute, and I do as she says. Carefully, slowly, I tease her breast. As I lick and touch her, my hands caress her back and I run my fingers over her skin.
“You’re so beautiful,” I say after a minute. The song has changed to something slow, something a little more intimate, and Anna kisses me. She teases me with her tongue, grinding on me as we touch, and I know I can’t take much more.
Luckily for me, neither can Anna.
“I need you inside of me,” she says. I start to move, start to lift her to go to the bed, but she shakes her head. “Here. I need you here.”
She reaches for me and unbuttons my pajama pants, freeing my cock. I’m not wearing boxers, not to bed, and she runs her hand up and down my length.
“Are you going to get undressed?” She’s still wearing a skirt.
“No.”
“What are you going to do, Anna?”
“I’m going to ride you, Oliver. I’m going to show you that you’re mine. Fuck, you’re so damn hot. I’m so lucky to be here with you. I don’t want this moment to end.”
Anna lifts her skirt and pulls her panties to the side, not bothering to take them off. Then she lowers herself slowly onto me. She sinks all the way down and just holds her hands on my shoulders.
I love you is on the tip of my tongue.
It shouldn’t be.
I shouldn’t be thinking this about Anna. Our marriage is one of convenience, at least that’s what I keep telling myself. I’m doing her a favor. I’m doing this because Anna deserves to have someone take care of her. She deserves to have someone on her side.
Her father left her an incredible inheritance and she shouldn’t be tricked out of that. If all it takes to ensure she gets what she deserves is a little bit of my time, then that’s fine. I’m willing to do it for her.
I’d do anything for her.
I love her.
She grinds on me in time with the music. Her eyes are locked on mine as she fucks me. I move my fingers between us so I can rub her clit as my cock fills her, and she smiles and nods.
“So fucking good,” she murmurs, closing her eyes. “So good. Fuck.”