Exposed by Fate (Serve #2)(17)

“You. I’m begging for you.”

Those words went to his head like a potent drug, surrounding them in a haze. The honesty in her voice undid him. No practiced responses or attempts at seductive flirting. Just Eliza.

Gritting his teeth against the driving urge to peel off her yoga pants and bury himself inside her, Oliver left her briefly, sitting back on his heels. Laughing softly over her protests, he peeled one leg from over his shoulder and switched to the other. Abruptly, her protests cut off, replaced with a breathless expectancy. Any other time, he would make a girl wait. Let her get restless. Now, he found himself unable to wait. She felt, looked, smelled too goddamn good. With a groan, he pressed her knee to her shoulder and rolled his hips against the crevice between her thighs.

She grabbed his ass and tugged him closer. “Feels so good.”

Christ, if she was this uninhibited at the gym, what would she be like when he got her home? The possibilities moved through him on a shudder. Or maybe she was too new at this to control herself. That thought managed to sober him enough to ease away slightly. He looked into her eyes and saw a girl somehow already on the brink of orgasm. Eyes glassy, bottom lip puffy from being abused by her teeth. A fresh dose of heat shot straight between his legs at the magnificent sight of her. Need her. Need to be inside her.

“Eliza, I need to get you home.” He cursed under his breath when she merely locked her free leg around his waist and undulated beneath him. “I know, babe. I know you want to take me inside you. Believe me, I want that too. You bent over and showed me that f*ckable blond *, and I’m going to take care of it so good. But not here.”

He watched as realization dawned slowly in her expression. The leg she’d wrapped around his waist dropped to the mat and he barely resisted the impulse to jerk it back around him. She put a hand on his chest and scooted out from beneath him, catching her breath at the feel of his erection dragging across her belly and hips. “That…I don’t know…”

Oliver took mercy on her by giving herself something else to focus on besides an explanation. He didn’t know if one existed for what happened when they touched. “Go to the locker room and get your things. Put a shirt on. I’ll meet you out front.”

She nodded slowly. “Where are we going?”

He grinned. “You don’t think I stretched you out for no reason, did you?”





Chapter Eight


Eliza preceded Oliver into his apartment, marveling over the fact that she’d resolved never to come back here after last night. Yet here she was already, twenty-four hours later.

She couldn’t be gladder.

Something had happened back at the gym, when Oliver’s voice had taken on that rough, commanding quality. She could still feel the effect in the very center of her belly, like a humming ball of electricity waiting to be flipped back to full wattage. Her breasts felt heavy and sensitive. With every step, she intentionally rubbed her thighs together, the friction sending shivers racing along her skin. Oliver’s frequent perusals of her body on the walk to his building, on the elevator ride up to his floor, made her feel hot and wanted. Like his plaything. She shouldn’t be turned on by that, should she? Too bad the idea of him using her for his pleasure made every pulse point in her body pound insistently. Use me. Take me.

They hadn’t spoken on the walk back, nor had she felt the need. She liked the silence because it left room for anticipation to build. No doubt it had been intentional on Oliver’s part, but she didn’t mind. His methods were working in a major way. She felt off center, she felt in control…so many feelings…they were like a funnel cloud inside of her, twisting and storming. Oliver’s flexing jaw told her he wasn’t unaffected in the least. She’d never seen him like this. Didn’t know this side of him.

Oliver tossed his keys onto the dining room table and turned to her. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it on a hiss. Eliza had no time to react before he lunged for her, pushing her back hard against the door. Her sob mingled with his growl as their lips meshed together. The kiss felt almost angry on his end, as if he wanted to punish her for something she didn’t understand. He bit her upper and lower lip in turn, then sunk his tongue into her mouth. Somehow her legs managed to hold her up in the face of such skill, but just barely. Every nuanced stroke of his tongue caused a wicked, answering pull in her stomach, wetness trickling between her thighs.

He pulled away abruptly, gaze bright with what Eliza interpreted as lust. Crazy, white-hot lust. “Were you trying to kill me on the way here?” He gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up. “So quiet and obedient, looking at me with those big, beautiful, f*ck-me-now-Oliver eyes. It was all I could do not to bend you over a parked car and give it to you.”

Her breath sounded raspy to her own ears. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

“That only makes it worse.” He dropped his hand down between them. Before he’d even touched her, she started whimpering. The sound seemed to drive him a little crazy, making him pound his free hand against the door behind her. At the same time, he ran a finger up the seam of her pants with a feather-light touch, such a contrast to the aggression of his other hand. “Go into the bathroom and turn on the shower. Hot, but not too hot. Take your clothes off and wait for me.”

It took her a moment to move in order to carry out his request. Feeling his gaze on her the entire way to the bathroom, she somehow managed to walk inside and close the door without looking back once. She pressed her back up against the door and breathed deeply a moment, giving herself a second to get her bearings before she turned on the shower and stripped down.