It’s nearly two in the morning, and I find myself at the one place my head says I shouldn’t be. The one place my soul cries out to be. I don’t know what I want from her, but I do know that somehow, I need her.
“Hello,” I greet, when my sunshine opens the door.
“Hello,” She echoes, her voice fill with a sleepy sultriness I find myself wanting to wake up too.
When she steps aside, inviting me in, I feel like I’ve won a ticket to heaven. I follow my angel to her bedroom and watch as she crawls back under the tangled bedcover. Standing motionless in the middle of the floor, I wait for her to speak. But it’s not her words that stirs me into movement, it’s her action. Pulling back the cover on the opposite side of the bed. Undressing quickly, I practically tear the suit from my body. All the while praying she doesn’t change her mind. Climbing in bed beside Olivia feels like a foreign experience, but one I’m eager to have. I want this woman in my arms all night. I want to wake up with her. I want to share a good morning kiss with her.
Olivia snuggles next to me, resting her body against the outline of mine. Her soft curves, fitting perfectly with the hard plains of mine. My cock throbs against her ass and she sighs deeply but doesn’t encourage me.
“Good night.” Olivia whispers in the darkness.
A sense of contentment envelopes me and I echo her sentiment. A few minutes later Olivia is sound asleep. Her soft melodic breathing lulls me peacefully to my own slumber.
Chapter 12
Olivia
I MANAGE TO CLIMB OUT of bed without waking Dorian. And he is still asleep when I return to the bedroom after showering. His appearance at my door at 2 a.m. was unexpected and I’m not sure what possessed me to invite him in, let alone invite him to my bed. I know I’m dangerously close to surrendering my virginity to him. I tried not to look at him as he undressed before climbing into bed with me, and it took every ounce of willpower I possess to keep my hands to myself. And I thought I was lost when his flesh pressed against mine. The hard arches of his body wrapped around the soft peaks of mine wreaked havoc with my libido. I had to resort to thinking about dead puppies and sick babies. Even now his beautiful male form tempts me. How is it possible that he’s more gorgeous when he’s sleeping? All lean muscles, lickable abs and a huge erection. It’s a sight I can get use to waking up too.
After I’m fully dressed, I move quietly from the bedroom to the kitchen. Breakfast is usually eaten as I’m heading out the door. However, this morning I take the time to prepare a light meal for Dorian. I don’t intend to wake him before I leave. So, I make an omelet, place it in the warmer and slice some fresh fruit. The fruit and a note I leave on the kitchen island.
I’m on the set of A Taste of France, when the app for my alarm system alerts me that my front door is open. Opening the app, I view the video of Dorian leaving my condo. Arming the alarm, I note the time. It’s been nearly two hours since I left home, and I have no way of knowing if I made a mistake by letting Dorian sleep in. I don’t have time to think about it when Joel arrives on set ready to start filming.
It's lunchtime when I return to my dressing room. The door is slightly ajar, and the most delicious smell greets me upon entering the room. However, it’s Dorian’s lean athletic figure that holds my attention.
“I thought we might have lunch together.” He says, approaching me with the confidence he lacked at 2 a.m. when he appeared at my door.
“I happen to be free for lunch,” I tease.
His smile spreads wide, and I see a hint of a sparkle in his gray irises. What a difference a few hours of sleep make. I wasn’t in the best state of mind to judge his appearance when I opened my front door and saw him there. But I could tell he was not himself. He needed something, and I instinctively knew it wasn’t sex. So, with nothing more than a greeting I invited him in, allowing him to share my bed. Sleeping with Dorian was a new experience for me. And I know it has affected him as well. He has made it clear to me that he does not share his bed and he never sleeps overnight with a woman. So, what does that say about our budding relationship? Does he see me as more than a conquest? Is it possible that he is developing real feelings for me? When Dorian’s lips brush against my ear, I don’t have time to consider the ramifications.
“Thank you for letting me sleep in.” His arms wrap around me holding me close to his chest. “And thanks for breakfast. That was very thoughtful of you.”
I hold my breath when Dorian’s lips trace the length of my neck, before planting a kiss on my collarbone. And my center clenches when his tongue darts out to lick my skin. A deep moan escapes my throat and it’s immediately captured by Dorian’s mouth covering mine. The kiss is designed to stop my heart. There’s no other way to describe it. The more he kisses me the faster my heart beats, making me breathless, and the more I want Dorian.
“Since I can’t have you for lunch, we should eat,” Dorian groans, releasing me.
He pulls out a chair and I take a seat at the small table. Dorian sits across from me and motions for me to remove the dome covering my meal. Grilled fish cooked in some mouthwatering herbs and rice pilaf. Cutting into the fish with a fork, I lift it to my mouth with Dorian watching my every move. I lick my lips in appreciation, moaning ravenously. Although the fish is delicious, I’m craving something else. And I suspect that Dorian is too, if the look in his eye is an indication. After a few bites, he joins me, enjoying his own meal.
“That was delicious,” I praise, finishing dessert, a refreshing raspberry and mango sorbet.
“I’m glad you approve,” he says with a self-satisfied smirk. And I know he counts this as a win in his favor for our third date.
“And I’m glad you’re pleased with yourself.”
“Why shouldn’t I be? I wanted to impress you and I have.”
“It was your effort that impressed me, not the catered meal.” Holding his gaze, I continue. You could have bought me peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and I would have been excited to have lunch with you. You’re trying to get to know me and that’s what I want most of all.”
Dorian lowers his eyes, hiding them from me. When he looks at me again his expression is unreadable and his mood shifts. His lips are no longer curl in a deliciously wicked smile and the sparkle has left his eyes. And I remember his impromptu visit at my place before sunrise.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “You seem out of sorts when you arrived at my home this morning.”
I don’t expect him to answer, but I’m pleasantly surprised when he does.
“An unpleasant late-night meeting and the conclusion of a problem that has taken up too much of my time.”
Curiosity gets the better of me and I must ask.
“So, you were in my neighborhood?”
Dorian chuckles, and the barrier he put up between us begins to crumble.
“I was nowhere near you. I drove around for hours trying to clear my head, but nothing worked until you opened your front door.”
“Why me?” I question.
“You are the only female friend I have, and I didn’t want to be alone.”
Dorian’s candor always catches me by surprise. But his confession is what really shocks me. The words play on a loop in my head and I worry that there’s something more he’s not telling me. Secrets build walls, and how can I honestly know him with a wall between us.
“And because it wasn’t about sex,” I add
“No. It wasn’t”
Standing, Dorian rounds the table; taking my hand he urges me to my feet. We’re now standing face to face and he leans in and whispers, “But don’t ever think that I won’t fuck you every chance I get.”
I try to fight the temptation but giving in is easier and it feels better. I let myself get lost in his embrace, covered with his kisses and swayed by the dirty words he groans against my lips. For a fleeting moment I remember where we are and thank the heavens that I had the foresight to remove my mic. When I find the willpower to pull away from Dorian, I’m breathle
ss and utterly frazzled. He affects me in ways my body can’t deny. And it’s the nearness of him, clouding my brain that has me agreeing to what will become known as date number twenty-five.
“I have an event I need to attend in a few weeks. Will you accompany me?”
Hesitating momentarily, I agree before asking, “What’s the event for?”
“A movie premier.”
“When is it?”
“Three weeks from Sunday. I’ll pick you up at seven”
“Alright,” I say, making a mental note to put it on my calendar.
He gives me a chaste kiss before heading back to his office on the thirtieth floor.
Three weeks fly by and Dorian and I have been dating for a month. In that time there have been many dates, but no sleepover since he arrived at my front door at 2 a.m. nearly a month ago. We’ve enjoyed lazy weekends lounging poolside at his Malibu beach house. He even taught me to surf. But as close as we continue to grow, I still haven’t stayed the night at his house or slept in his bed. And I’m not sure why.
Last night after dinner at Dorian’s place, he drives me home and I fully expect him to stay the night with me. But like every other weekend he returns home. It’s been nearly twelve hours since I saw him last. And if I hadn’t received a text confirming our plans for tonight, I might question if I will see him at all today.
In other news, I’ll be making my first public appearance at Dorian’s side tonight, making our relationship public. Sure, coworkers and friends know that we’re dating, and of course I had to confess the status of our relationship to my overprotective big brother. But confirmation attempts from the media have failed. I’m still not sure if going public tonight is a good idea. It’s only been a month, even by Hollywood standards that can’t possibly signify a long-term relationship. I don’t want the threat of an expiration date hanging over us, but maybe I’m too cynical to believe that what Dorian and I have can last without sex. It’s too new and too fragile. And given Dorian’s sexual proclivities, how can a virgin hope to hold his attention or his affection for much longer? However, when we’re together that’s all I want, for us to last.
The ringing of my cell phone interrupt my solitude, bringing an end to my inner thoughts. The caller ID indicates an incoming call from Kyle. I haven’t seen him outside of Gray Wolff Studio, since I started dating Dorian. Answering the phone, I greet him cheerfully.
“Kyle,” I practically exclaim.
“Liv, how are you?” He greets equally cheerful. “I have an extra ticket to the California Wine Festival, you interested?”
Feeling guilty for neglecting our friendship, I accept without thinking.
“Great, I’ll text you the details.”
“So how have you been? I feel like we don’t talk anymore. And how is your mom?”
I finally come up for air after a string of questions, allowing Kyle to answer.
“Liv, take a breath.” He chuckles and I can almost imagine his smile. “We’re both well, busy, but well.”
“I feel bad for not calling or hanging out”
“It’s okay, Liv. I get it; you’re dating Wolff.”
“Yes, but I can still make time for my friends.”
“Don’t worry about it, I’ve been busy too.” Kyle is silent for a moment, before he adds, “I’m opening my own custom motorcycle shop.”
“Kyle! That’s great! Congratulations.”
“Thank you. It’s been a dream for a while. So I decided to go for it.”
“That’s really awesome Kyle.”
“The grand opening is next week. I hope you can make it.”
“I’ll be there.” It’s a promise I intend to keep.
Two minutes after we’ve said goodbye, I receive a text from Kyle. The details he promised about the California Wine Festival and the address to his new bike shop.
Chapter 13
Dorian
STANDING OUTSIDE THE door of Olivia’s condo, the evidence of my obsession manifest, pressing hard against my zipper. I’ve been adjusting my pants all day, thinking of her has kept me hard constantly. I ring her doorbell, waiting to set my eyes on her again.
Leaving her alone last night was a decision made from self-preservation. My desire for her has grown exponentially over the past five weeks. I’ve forsaken the Asylum; nothing there holds a candle to just being in her presence. But every man has a breaking point. And yesterday I reached mine.
How is it possible to spend so much time with a woman and not get bored? She has a way of stimulating my mind as well as my body. There’s never a dull moment with her, it doesn’t matter if I’m teaching her to surf or she’s teaching me to bake the perfect quiche, she bewitches me. And that’s what scares me shitless. So, I tried to distance myself. I didn’t call her, and I refuse the listen to the inner voice begging to hear hers. It takes me eighteen miserable fucking hours to conclude that there’s no escaping Olivia Frost. She’s in my blood, embedded so deep under my skin that she has become a part of me.
When the door opens, I’m still trying to figure out how I let it happen. When did this woman become as essential to me as the air I breathe?
“Come in.” She says, stepping aside to allow me to enter.
I don’t waste time getting the pleasantries out of the way. The door closes and I grab Olivia by the wrist. Passion, raw and intense, heats my blood as she meets my gaze.
“I’m going to invade your personal space. If it feels like I’m nibbling your ear, it’s just me whispering, telling you all the things I want to do to you. I’m going to lay my hand on the small of your back and hold you close. And it’s okay for you to touch me too.”
Pulling Olivia against my chest, the scent of her feeds my wicked appetite. She’s like a drug to me, an endorphin-induced high. I claim her mouth, kissing her deeply. Moans fill the air and I’m not sure if they’re hers or mine. When she breaks the kiss I know, it’s me who mourns the loss.
“Is this your way of apologizing for avoiding me all day?”
I should have been better prepared for her question, but it still surprises me how well she can read me. How well she seems to sense what I need, when I need it.
“I figured you needed some space with all that’s going on.”
“I thought I needed space, but what I actually need is you.”
Olivia’s glistening icy blue gaze holds a mild hint of shock. She wasn’t expecting my declaration of affection. And I don’t hold it against her when she doesn’t return the sentiment. I know that she’s closely guarding her feelings, attempting to protect herself from the pain I might cause her. I want to reassure her, but I’m not ready to make that promise. So much about interpersonal relationships is foreign to me. How can I commit to someone when I don’t trust my own feelings?
“We should get going,” Olivia says, breaking an uneasy silence.
Freeing herself from my hold, Olivia take a few steps to retrieve a small metallic purse from the coffee table. And I take in the sight of her for the first time since entering her condo. She looks amazing in a strapless icy blue floor length dress that perfectly matches her eyes. The slit up to her thigh shows just enough to be sexy, yet modest. And the crystals adorning the neckline emphasizes her luscious breast. I would have to be blind to not notice how appetizing she looks. Diamonds dangle from her earlobes and her wrist. She’s breathtakingly beautiful. Keeping my hands off her will be a challenge in self-control.
“All set?” I ask when she glances around the room, refusing to meet my gaze.
“All set.” Olivia confirms, and we make our way out the door.
She sets the alarms and locks the door before accepting my hand. I wrap my hand around hers, escorting her to the chauffeured driven Bentley waiting at the curb for us. The driver steps forward to open the door for Olivia but I stop him. Everything she needs tonight will be provided by only me.
The drive to Dolby Theatre is made longer by inconsequential small talk, something Olivia and I have never had any u
se for. But it’s my walls that I must tear down not hers. She’s simply navigating the unsure waters that I left her in. If I can get through tonight, I will make it up to her. Show her how much she means to me.
Walking the red carpet for the first time with a woman on my arms, garners more attention than either Olivia or I are prepared for. The media swarms us and we are assaulted with flashing lights and question after question.
“Are you okay?” I whisper in Olivia’s ear, holding her closer to me. She nods and I attempt to maneuver us past the photographers. We manage two steps before we’re accosted by an overzealous reporter.
“Mr. Wolff!” the overly excited, young woman shouts. “Is it true that casting for Tainted Soul is underway? Olivia, how long have you and Mr. Wolff been dating, and is it serious?”
She practically shoves the microphone in Olivia’s face. She squeezes my hand but maintains a flawless smile for the camera. We didn’t discuss how we would respond to the dating question. However, Olivia’s answer is brilliant.
“Ask me how to make a Crème Brulee, and I will tell you, but I will never share my secret ingredient.”
“Are you aware that you are the first woman to walk the red carpet with Mr. Wolff? Surely that must be some indication to the status of your relationship. Can you share your thoughts about that?”
I feel my smile fading and my annoyance growing. Taking a deep breath, I push away the irritation. And it’s in that moment that I spot my grandparents. Theodore and Marian Wolfgang, my father’s parents. Standing off to the side, waiting with Elise and Nigel. I beckon them over to join Olivia and I on the red carpet.
Elise is no stranger to the camera or reporters asking intrusive questions, so I give her a moment in the spotlight. And as expected she eats it up, taking the attention away from my personal relationship with Olivia. After a few minutes we make our way inside Dolby Theatre.
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