I find some lavender bubble bath and soak in the tub. After about twenty minutes, my stomach grumbles. I get out of the tub and wrap a towel around myself. Then I head out to the room attached to the bathroom to dig through my bag.
“Son of a bitch,” I curse. The jerk could have chosen a pair of shorts or pants with a T-shirt from my pajama drawer, but he chose a little turquoise lace nighty I have. The lace is in the breast area, making it see-through.
I hold the skimpy fabric in my hand. After the way he reacted when I told him I was a virgin, like a ten-year-old boy who just discovered a monster lives under his bed, I wouldn’t have expected him to want to see me in this piece. Just because I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I don’t like to feel sexy and pretty once in a while. Or maybe I had this number just to be ready in case the opportunity arose.
I slip it on. If he put the nighty in here as a challenge, then game on. Challenge accepted, Oliver Russell.
I walk out of the room down a hall toward the main part of the apartment, which is an open-concept kitchen, family room, and dining room. Oli is by the stove as steam bellows in front of him. My eyes drop to his fine ass, sculpted to perfection in the jeans he’s wearing. I bite down a little too hard on my lip and mumble, “Hot damn.”
I walk closer and he turns his head briefly.
“Oh hey. Come have a seat.” He waves me over to a chair at the table. I take a seat and cross one leg over the other.
“Hope it’s okay. I’m making multigrain pasta with some vegetables,” he says, still stirring the pot.
“Sounds great.”
“Good. How was the . . .” His voice falters as he looks at me his gaze scoring over every inch of my exposed skin.
I cock a brow. “What? You’re the one who packed it.”
He shakes his head and laughs. “Yeah, as a joke. I didn’t think you’d actually have the guts to put it on.”
“Well I’m always up to a challenge. You’ll learn that about me sooner or later,” I reply.
He shakes his head. “There is another pair of pajamas tucked into the front pocket in the bag,” he says, turning only his head, as if he’s scared to really take me all in. He turns to face the boiling pasta, still shaking his head, and adjusts his groin while muttering something I don’t catch.
“I’m fine,” I respond nonchalantly.
He takes the pot off the stove and drains it. “Fine by me, Shorty.” He dips a spoon into the second saucepan with the simmering sauce, and tastes it. “Mmm, good stuff.”
A moment later, he comes over to the table with two bowls of pasta in hand. He places one in front of me.
“This smells delicious.” It really does. I’m surprised he can cook.
“My housekeeper makes the sauce herself,” he explains. Okay, so it was half prepped. Still delicious.
“I’d offer you wine, but considering your injury and choice of clothing, it’s better we don’t go there.” He gives me an impish smile.
“This was not my choice of clothing, it was yours,” I remind him, waving a hand over my body.
“You got me there. What the fuck was I thinking?” he chides himself.
“You mean because I’m a virgin?” I ask, straight out.
He practically chokes on his bite.
I bite back a laugh. “What is it with you and the word virgin? I may have been pissed drunk that night, but I still remember you fumbling in the darkness of the room like a toddler.”
“Deserved.” He nods. “Last time I was with a virgin I was fifteen.”
“Why am I not surprised?” I say, taking a bite of pasta. “Well, at least you’re handling this conversation well. I mean, you haven’t fallen off your chair,” I say, giving him a sideward glance.
“You don’t want me getting off this chair. My hard-on is fucking raging,” he retorts.
One of the little pasta swirls in my mouth goes down the wrong pipe, and I cough.
“Touché,” he chortles.
“You got me there,” I admit.
We both break into laughter until I wince from the pain in my head and touch the area that was stitched. I wasn’t able to wash my hair since I can’t get my hair wet for three days, as per the doctor’s instructions, so I put it up in a little bun.
“You want something for the pain?” Oli offers, placing his fork down.
“Yes, please.”
Oli gets up and returns with a bottle of Tylenol. He passes it to me. I pour myself a glass of water from the jug sitting on the table.
We continue to eat in silence. When I’m done, I lean back on the chair as the weight of the day hits me.
“You’re tired,” he says it as a statement.
“Yes.” I pick up my plate and walk it over to the sink.
As I lift the sponge to clean the plate, he says, “Leave it. The housekeeper will be here tomorrow. You should get some rest.”
I leave the plate because I really do feel exhausted.
“Thanks for everything, Oli,” I say softly. “I’m glad I’m staying here. I feel really shaken up, and being here with you makes me feel safe.”
His lips turn up. His eyes smolder. “I’m glad you’re here. I enjoy your company.”
I turn on my heel. “Thanks, I think.”
“It was a compliment,” he calls out as I walk toward Flynn’s old room.
We definitely need some space between us, because he has a hard-on and I’m pretty wet between my thighs. I sigh as I enter the room. There is something so frustrating about wanting something you can’t have.
Eighteen
Oli
Hot damn. This woman is going to be the end of me. I can’t believe she actually walked out here in that sexy number. She’s definitely a feisty one.
I follow her to the back of my apartment and knock on the guest bedroom door.
“Hey, Sloane,” I call out.
“Yeah?” she answers immediately.
“You aren’t sleeping in that room. Doctor’s orders were that I keep an eye on you. I can only do that from my bed. I’m not keen about actually leaving my bed in the middle of the night. And I need to make sure you’re still breathing,” I say. “You better get that cute ass of yours out here and into my bed.”
There is no response, even though I’m pretty sure I’ve made myself crystal clear.
“Sloane?” I question after about a full minute passes.
The bedroom door suddenly whips open. She doesn’t look me in the eye as she struts past me, her chin slightly tilted upward. I turn to see where she is going, my eyes landing on her behind just as she passes the threshold of my bedroom. I chuckle quietly. This chick is too damn funny. I really do like having her around.
I follow her into my room and remove my shirt. Before she has a chance to say anything about me sleeping with clothes on, I say, “I’m just going to hop in the shower.”
Her eyes roam over my chest then drop to my abs. She bites her bottom lip.
“Like what you see?” I ask, one of my brows cocked.
“How can I not?” She rolls her eyes.
I laugh, shaking my head as I head into the shower wondering if I should rub one out so I don’t maul the girl in the middle of the night. She doesn’t need to be dealing with my hard-on, who seems to have a mind of its own where she’s concerned.
After I’ve jacked off twice to the vision of her in that little nighty with her nipples standing to attention, I head back into the room. She’s fast asleep in the middle of my bed. I put on a pair of boxers and slide in beside her. Her backside curves into me, and I curse my dick, telling it to stay put, because I can feel the soft skin of her behind through my boxers.
I will myself to sleep because we have a big game tomorrow, and I need to be up early to view the plays Myles left by my door.
As the sun peeks through the blinds, I slowly open my eyes. My arm is draped over a tight little body. Her hair is splayed across the pillow and it slightly tickles my lips. Her hot ass presses into my groin.
/>
This is a first for me. I don’t think I’ve ever spooned. When I have a girl or girls in my bed, we wake up sideways or at the wrong end of the mattress but never have I cuddled one of them.
Sloane and I didn’t even have sex last night, although I did wake her up twice to ask her for her name and age, just to make sure she didn’t have a concussion and we definitely weren’t cuddling then. It beats me how we ended up in this compromising position.
It’s compromising because it hints at something more than just sexual attraction. This is intimate, and it feels good, dammit. With her, it feels nice.
I peek under the covers quickly to make sure my dick is still there, because what the hell is wrong with me? I don’t spoon. I sure as heck am not supposed to enjoy it.
I try to move the arm from under her body but it causes her to shift. I don’t want to wake her. She needs the rest. I stay put with my arms wrapped around this beautiful, brave woman, and I watch her take slow breaths. She turns in my arms so she is facing me. I could move the one arm that is draped over her, hugging her close, but I don’t want to because the more I get to know her, the more I like her and the more I learn that outside of Flynn, she doesn’t really have anyone to depend on. I hate that in the depth of those searing green eyes last night I detected a loneliness that tugged on my heartstrings. Even though I lost my parents, I was never alone. Flynn and Myles always had my back. For some reason, seeing Sloane so vulnerable makes me want to hug her fiercely and keep her close.
But I’m reminded I’m not the right guy to give her what she needs. I’m not ready to settle down. As I watch her long eyelashes flutter, I let out a long sigh. My insides are at war as my heart screams claim the girl and my mind barks you’re fucking crazy.
Her eyes slowly open, and jade pools of warmth stare back at me.
“Hey.” I smile down to her, but I feel like I’m holding my breath. Is she going to flip out when she realizes she’s waking up in my arms?
Her eyes look back and forth, and a shy smile curves her lush lips. “Hey yourself.”
Her brows draw together in question. Maybe she’s trying to figure out how we ended up sleeping entwined with each other.
“How’s your head?” I ask, needing to break whatever trance we both clearly have entered. I still don’t remove my arms from around her, and she doesn’t protest.
“The bump feels tender where the stitches are but other than that, it’s not too bad. I was lucky.” She swallows, and I can see she’s still shaken.
“Come here.” I guide her head onto my shoulder and kiss her forehead. She doesn’t protest. I stare up at my ceiling, a little freaked out, because, hell, I’m completely out of my element.
“I had a nightmare. I kept waking up and then it would continue,” her low voice, raspy from sleep, her breath brushes across my chest. “The man with the wild red hair was chasing me . . . I was running and running. He would close in. I couldn’t lose him. His knife was waving in the air as he chased me down the street. There were all these people around, but no one stopped to help. It was maddening. I was so freaking scared.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through all that,” I reply, my own voice a little husky. “I’m sorry no one was there to fight the guy off you. I wish I was there with you . . . to protect you.”
She lets out a sigh. “That would have been nice.”
Silence follows.
A long bout of silence where I wish I could read her thoughts. We are in my bed in an intimate embrace. She’s sharing her intimate thoughts with me. We haven’t had sex, yet I feel so close to her.
“This is a little weird.” Her voice breaks the silence. She lifts her head, her clear eyes staring right through me.
“What?” I ask nervously.
She purses her lips. “We slept in the same bed and woke up spooning. Actually, it was more than that you were full-out hugging me,” she says, her tone accusatory but kind.
I burst out laughing. “You’re killing me, woman.” I shake my head. “I admit, we woke up wrapped in each other. Not sure how that happened.” I rub the scruff on my chin.
She sits on her knees, and I sit up and lean against my headboard. Her gaze drops to my abs and her throat bobs.
“You needed looking after. I looked after you,” I retort.
“That’s all this is?” She waves her hand between us. She seems nervous and out of her element too. That gives me some reassurance that we’re both treading in uncharted waters. I’m not in a position to allow this girl to fall in love with me. I’m simply not willing to settle down. Not even for her.
“Babe.” I lean forward and get a little in her face. “Trust me, that’s all this is because I’m a little too much for you to handle.” I wink and lean back on the headboard, hoping to lighten the conversation. Things had started to feel a little too heavy, like we were about to have a relationship talk or something.
She scoffs, and her hands come up on each side of her waist. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Do you have something against virgins?” she snaps, and purses her lips. Not a moment later, her green eyes light up, like she just had a thought.
I shake my head. “No, I don’t have a thing against virgins. I just don’t think you’d be up for my kind of kink.” I pause because her cheeks turn red. “What is it, Shorty? You clearly have something to say.”
“Well, Oliver,” she snaps, and her head does a little dance as she accentuates every syllable of my name, “I can be a kinky girl. Trust me I’ve done kink,” she huffs, tilting her chin up at me. She looks fucking adorable. “And if you’d just fuck me, then maybe I wouldn’t be a virgin and you wouldn’t be so scared of me,” she says, and then her face twists as she tries to figure out if she’s made any sense. Like I said, she’s adorable.
Did she just give me an invitation to fuck her?
Now, my own face twists up. I let out a guttural growl and rise from the bed. Wait! What am I doing?
Before I have time to process my actions, I have Sloane pinned under me, flat on her back, each of my arms caged around her head. I’m the predator she should stay away from because, hell, I wouldn’t be any good for her past a good fuck.
I look down at her and watch as her chest rises and falls. Her breaths are fast and short, the pulse point in her neck racing. Her nipples salute me through her sheer nighty. I want to dip my head and bite. Hear her yelp and call out my name as the pain from my bite burns her down below.
“Don’t tempt me, Sloane. You know I think you’re hot as hell, baby, but I’m not the man you need. You need a man to make slow love to you, take care of you. I’m not that guy. I’m the guy who should send you running in the opposite direction because I’m all kinds of fucked up.”
She swallows hard and tries to break away from me, but I put my hands over hers and keep her in place. Her fight wears down. “You were gentle and caring last night,” she reminds me.
“That was different.”
“Whatever. You go on believing that,” she huffs. “I see something different.”
She glares at me, but I have nothing good to say because in this position, my dick hangs hard between her thighs and her heat engulfs me, driving me crazy. Without thinking, I thrash my lips to hers and wait for her to smack me. Only she wraps her hands around my neck and returns the kiss with fervor. As hunger consumes me, our tongues collide, taking and wanting. Her hands run roughly through my hair, and her touch ignites the slow burn that’s been simmering through my veins since Canada. If she were anybody else, I would drive my dick hard and fast into her, but she’s not just anyone and she’s A FUCKING VIRGIN.
I slow the kiss down. She moans into my mouth. I grunt.
“You taste too damn good. You’re hard to resist, but trust me: you and I are better off friends,” I say, and her lips purse together.
“Friends? Friends don’t kiss like that.”
“I know.” I lick her taste from my lips. I’m still fucking hard like a rock. “I just don’t wan
t to break your heart or fuck things up.” She’s my sister’s best friend, dammit. I’m trying to be a gentleman, and she’s burning my last thread of resistance.
“Fuck that, Oliver.” She pulls away from me and climbs off the bed. “You’re scared of your own fucking heart, not mine, so don’t pull that shit on me.” She stalks off, shaking her hips angrily as she leaves my room.
“I just think we should be friends . . .” I call out like an idiot. I’m not sure she hears me.
I get out of bed and head to the bathroom to take care of business. Fucking hell, that woman is a handful and she’s not even mine. She has me horny as fuck and angry as hell, and I don’t even know why I feel the anger part. I’ll probably need to call my sister and get her to psychoanalyze the shit out of me later on, given that Shorty’s already enlightened her on us.
All dressed, I head to my kitchen. I’m starved and not just for the food in my fridge. As I throw together some ingredients, I remind myself that Sloane is better off in the friend zone. Problem is, I don’t believe my own argument.
Nineteen
Sloane
I get ready to leave Oli’s apartment, but I need to thank him before I go. Even if he does irritate the hell out of me, he was still very kind to take me in last night.
“Thanks for watching over me. I really appreciate everything you’ve done,” I say, dressed in my blue jegging jeans and white T-shirt. Oli packed me a white lace bra so I’m pretty sure my nipples can be seen through the shirt. I’m betting he did it on purpose. Mister We Should Only Be Friends. Right.
His eyes drop to my chest before he makes eye contact, confirming my suspicions. “Why are you leaving? You don’t need to leave. I just made breakfast.”
He flips a dish towel over his shoulder, and yes, I’m drooling. What is it about a man barefoot and making you breakfast that sends hormones skyrocketing?
I try to clear my head and not focus on the way his white T-shirt stretches across his chest or the sexy bulge of his biceps. I won’t even allow my eyes to wonder down to his junk because I don’t need my cheeks turning fifty shades of red.
Butt Ending: A Big Stick Novel 2 (Standalone) Page 13