Exposed by Fate (Serve #2)(20)

What she’d just experienced with Oliver had been the single most amazing moment of her life. Freeing. Self-actualizing. It had felt right. But she’d wanted to explore this world to empower herself. She’d been told numerous times by Caroline, read it in articles, that there was power in submission. Yet when she’d been restrained, had her sight taken away…she hadn’t wanted control. She’d wanted none. At all. Had wanted Oliver to take every ounce of it away. What did that mean?

An unwanted image rose in her mind of her mother, always taking abuse. Almost…wanting it.

Eliza felt sick, unease clawing at her throat. A logical part of her brain told her this was just the aftermath of her first experience with this type of thing. She just needed to calm down and think about this when she felt more rational. When hormones and emotions weren’t pouring through her body from several different waterfalls. Even as she told herself to stay put, she found herself desperate to get out of the shower. Out of the apartment. Away from Oliver and what they’d done.





Chapter Nine


I’m so screwed.

Oliver reached down to massage Eliza’s wrists, just so he’d have an excuse to keep her flattened between him and the wall a little longer. Too many new things were happening here. Things he wasn’t accustomed to. Things and feelings and earth-shattering orgasms that depleted him to the point he could barely stand. He’d known sex between him and Eliza would be good. There had been a mutual attraction simmering for a long time, one he’d sensed from the get-go. It would be the enactment of a fantasy, something they would wink-wink-nudge each other about next time they were in the same room. That’s what he’d thought. Expected. He hadn’t anticipated her to reach inside his chest and rearrange everything.

No, no, wait…that sounded serious. His heart was in his chest, and no one had been able to touch that. Maybe he wasn’t even capable of feeling romantic love for another person. This…thing, though, happening in his chest…it hurt. It felt like someone had inflated one of those stupid rafts inside his ribcage and it was pushing, growing, trying to get out. At the same time, his throat wouldn’t seem to stop aching.

How was he supposed to deal with this? It hadn’t just been incredible sex. No, something else had happened when he’d been buried inside of her beautiful body. No one had ever surrendered everything to him as thoroughly as Eliza just had. At first he’d been humbled by her trust. Then he’d simply lost himself in her. People often spoke about having a “connection” with someone. He’d laughed it off as bullshit, something people wanted to see that wasn’t really there. He’d been wrong. Even now, he could feel her heart beating against his chest and swore to God, his tried to match it.

You’re a moron. See this for what it is, man. He finally found a girl he wanted to f*ck twice. Okay, maybe a lot more than twice. And she was angling for another dude. This had never happened before in the History of Oliver and maybe, just maybe, he might even be a little jealous. An image of Porter holding Eliza’s damp, naked body unfurled in his mind like a red carpet to hell. A roaring started in his ears, eye ticking, throat constricting. Unconsciously, his arms tightened around her even more, refusing to relinquish her to imaginary Porter. Yeah, fine. Jealousy it is.

Panic flared when he reminded himself he was already down to two. Two more times. Shit, shit, shit. After which, he’d make a call to set her up with someone else. It was almost funny. Actually, f*ck that, it wasn’t funny at all. It was a goddamn tragedy. He’d been standing here way too long without moving. While he could have easily stood there for the whole night, and maybe even tomorrow night, she would need to be reassured after what they’d done. Weird how he was looking forward to that part almost as much as the sex. He wanted to…cuddle her. Make her tea. Rub her back.

Oh, yeah. Screwed.

Oliver kissed her temple, still wet from the shower. She stiffened against him, lighting a flare of worry in his stomach. With a frown marring his forehead, he pulled back to look at her.

He never got the chance, though. She moved so fast, he was terrified she might slip on the tile and break her neck. Jesus, what had he missed? As soon as she left the shower stall, she started pulling on clothes with shaky hands. Her pale face alarmed him so much, it took him a moment to react.

“Eliza.” He stepped in front of her, wanting to rip the shirt out of her hands to get her attention but sensed she needed to cover herself. “Look at me.” She yanked the shirt over her head and made for the bathroom door. All right, no. This he wasn’t capable of. He couldn’t let her walk out without an explanation. With a quick sidestep, he blocked the door and latched onto her shoulders. “Look at me, babe. What’s wrong? Are you…” he swallowed hard at the pain in her eyes. “Hurt? God, did I—”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. Please move.”

“Not until you talk to me.” Trying and failing to keep his anxiety at bay, he pulled her into the circle of his arms, tightening them around her when she thankfully didn’t protest. “If you’re a little shaken up, that’s okay. Let’s talk about what you didn’t like, so I don’t do it ever again. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“I liked it. I loved it, actually.” Her breath exploded out of her on a sob. “I just never realized I was so weak.”