Exposed by Fate (Serve #2)(11)

He looked surprised by her question. With a sigh, he lowered his forehead to hers. “Of course, I do, babe. I’m just trying to do this right. Anything right.” His hand found hers, twining their fingers together. “Come on. We’re going to talk about this first, even if I’d like to pet you between your legs to apologize for that mean little ache I gave you.”

She sucked in a breath, but didn’t have a chance to respond before he tugged her toward the kitchen, cursing under his breath as they went. His words echoed in her fevered brain, making the situation below her waist infinitely worse, as did the rippling of his shoulders beneath the material of his shirt. He picked her up to settle her onto a stool at the kitchen island, taking a moment to squeeze her tightly around the waist before walking away. When he rounded the island to pull two shot glasses from the cabinet, Eliza took the hint and uncapped the bottle of ouzo.

Before he returned to her, he scooped noodles and pasta sauce into a bowl, carrying it back along with shot glasses and a fork. He had a crease between his eyebrows that hadn’t been there before. He twirled a bite of pasta around the fork and held to her lips. “Open.”

As if her jaw were on a string, it dropped and a bite of pasta landed on her tongue. Oliver sat back on his stool and watched her mouth chew.

“How is it?” he asked hoarsely.

“Wonderful.” Oh God, how could she function under the weight of that sensual stare? “Aren’t you going to have any?”

He merely shook his head. “Eliza, when you enter into these kinds of relationships, such as the one you want with…him…” he trailed off. Looking suddenly restless, he poured ouzo into the shot glasses. “You have to discuss terms up front. Outline your limits. Pick a safe word. Tell someone, even if it’s me, where you’re going to be in case something happens. Before we go any further, I want you to promise me that. It’s the most important lesson I can teach you.”

Eliza nodded. She’d already understood the importance of taking those measures, but Oliver’s tone begged her to agree without equivocation. “I understand.” His hard expression still didn’t budge, so she ran her thumb over the valley between his eyebrows. “Terms, limits, safe word, phone buddy. I promise, playboy.”

Instead of responding, he wound pasta around the fork and fed it to her again. Oh boy, she could seriously get used to this. No! No, she couldn’t get used to anything Oliver-related. Is that why he was frowning? Was he worried she’d get too attached? Schooling her features, she handed him one of the shot glasses and picked up her own.

“I’ve got one more condition,” Oliver said slowly, as if he didn’t understand the words coming out of his own mouth. “You’re mine until all three lessons are over. No one else’s. Agree to it.”

“There won’t be anyone else.” She’d said it too quickly, but she’d been surprised. Surprised by him wanting that with her. Surprised how much she loved the idea. “To no messes,” she murmured, hoping to make up for her eagerness.

Oddly, her assurance didn’t make him look any less troubled. Finally, his signature smile moved back into place, and he clinked their glasses together. “No messes.”

…

One second she was looking at him like her savior, the next a hopeless player. Why did he like the former so much better? He’d never minded being written off as the irredeemable ladies’ man before. In fact, he’d enjoyed it. It had damn well saved him and his conquest some time. For some reason, hearing it from Eliza didn’t inspire relief as it usually did. It should, though. Hell, if he set aside the fact that the stunning blonde happened to be his sister’s best friend, this was his ideal situation. He would finally get the chance to act out the fantasies he’d had about Eliza over the years, secure in the fact that she wouldn’t try and nail down an engagement as soon as he let his guard down.

Feeding the girl who had always been off limits to him, watching her unpainted lips close around food he’d prepared…it got him off way too much. For a split second, he thought he might be content just to do this all night. Talk to her. Listen to her sighing breathily over the taste, watch her eyes close as she chewed, tipping her head back to expose the smooth skin of her neck. Never mind. No way would he be happy until he’d gotten another taste of what she’d started to give him last night. Every look she sent him from beneath those eyelashes felt like a squeeze of his cock.

I’m going to make her mine. After a beat, his inner voice piped up with, for now, buddy. For now.

Right. Of course, this would be temporary. By the end of their three meetings, he would be relieved of this inconvenient yen he had for her. He’d teach her everything she needed to know to be safe, to know what gave her pleasure, all the while catering to the instinct inside him that commanded him to rule a woman’s body. He’d been surprised to learn he had the need inside him. He loved women. Why would he want to hurt them? Withhold orgasm until they screamed and begged? Then he’d realized, it’s because he loved women that he felt the urge to do those things. He made the end result worth every ounce of frustration it took to get there. If somewhere along the line, it had stopped being worth it for Oliver…that was on him. Would it feel different with Eliza?

He realized he’d been contemplating for too long when she started to look nervous under his close scrutiny. Jesus, how long had he been staring at her? He set down the fork he’d been feeding her with and poured another shot of ouzo, holding it to her lips.