Exposed by Fate (Serve #2)(21)

Surprise filtered through his panic. “Weak?”

She nodded jerkily. “I didn’t feel in control. I was supposed to, right? There’s power in submitting, blah blah blah. I didn’t feel that. I didn’t want it.”

He hated the shame that stained her cheeks. Wanted to eradicate it with an intensity so palpable, it burned through him like a wildfire. That wouldn’t work here, though. She needed him to make this better for her, to guide her through this misconception. At that moment, he thanked God he’d been her first experience with submitting. If he hadn’t been there to comfort her…he didn’t want to think about it. “Hey, bunny. Hey.” He waited until she gave him her full attention. “There you are.”

“I hate when you call me that.”

“No, you don’t.” He brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Eliza, you’re not weak. You’re incredibly brave. It takes a lot of courage to give someone else control like that. That’s where the power lies. I sure as hell couldn’t do what you just did.”

Oliver could practically see the wheels spinning in her head. “No?”

“Nope. I’d probably cry.” He shook his head. “Believe me, you never want to see that. I’m a really ugly crier.” Humor sparked in her expression, and he felt an astonishing sense of victory. He could really get used to it. Don’t get used to it. “You didn’t want control. That’s okay, Eliza. It’s better than okay.” Unable to keep his hands off her, he combed his fingers through her damp hair. She stared up at him looking slightly dazed. Those gorgeous lips were parted in an O, her eyes shining with renewed hope. Like she wanted desperately to believe him. It felt so good to reassure her, that a little too much slipped out before he could snatch it back. “You were spectacular. I’ve never seen anything half as beautiful as you were. As you are.”

…

Could he…mean it?

It startled Eliza how much she wanted the words out of his mouth to be genuine. Desperate, dangerous thoughts that materialized nonetheless, permeating her already overwrought mind. Their surroundings closed in on them, narrowing the bathroom down to the immediate space between them, around them. It got harder to draw air into her lungs as he stared at her through the steam, so mesmerizing and intense. As if willing her to believe him.

No, her imagination was running away with her. She’d just had her mind blown by the man she measured all men against, and it had propelled her into fantasy land. So she’d wanted to know why women followed him around like the Pied Piper? Mystery solved. But she couldn’t be one of them. Or he’d lead her right over the edge of a cliff.

“Wow.” Eliza shook herself. “That was one hell of a line, playboy.”

She frowned when he fell back a step, but he laughed after a beat and everything settled back into place. Even ground. “Guess I just can’t stop myself, huh?”

“Old habits die hard.”

Nodding once, he took her hand, twining their fingers together, and led her from the bathroom. Walking out of the steam solidified her place in reality. Where she and Oliver were old friends and this was just a teaching experiment. Striving for casual, Eliza hopped up onto a kitchen stool. The same one she’d sat on last time. Did that mean she had a spot now? She was distracted from her silly thoughts when Oliver began rummaging through the cabinet, watching her steadily over his shoulder.

“Want some tea, bunny?”

It sounded homey. Too homey. So she tilted her head. “Is that ouzo still around?”

“Since last night?” He scrubbed a hand over his damp hair. “Yeah, I managed not to chug the entire bottle.”

He took it from the door of the fridge and set it on the island. When Eliza saw a good portion of the alcohol was missing, she laughed. After the way she’d left last night, he’d obviously indulged more than was healthy. Why did it give her a thrill of pleasure to know he’d been as upset as she’d been? Oliver narrowed his eyes at her laughter, obviously realizing she’d cracked the case of the missing ouzo. Still smiling to herself, she took the chilled bottle and poured two shots. “Should we toast to lesson one?”

For a moment, he looked confused by her meaning, but he finally snatched up the shot. “Right. To lesson one.” They drank. Oliver licked his lips, leaving them coated in liquor. Lord. How could she already want him again? His mouth quirked on one side, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. And liked it. “Feel better, babe?”

Her smile dimmed as she recalled her episode in the bathroom. “Yes. Thanks for what you said. I, um…I don’t know where that came from.”

His gaze remained intent. “Are you sure? It seems like you might.”

Had Oliver always been this astute? “I might, yeah.” With her index finger, she traced the rim of the shot glass. “My father didn’t treat my mother so well. That’s actually an understatement. He wasn’t physically abusive, but I remember this, like…constant mental torture. She never did anything right, and he made sure she knew how inferior he found her.” She blew out a breath, feeling more than a little shocked at how much she’d revealed. “Anyway, I never want to be like that. But—”

“Eliza.” There was incredulity in his tone, but he didn’t continue right away, brows drawn together as he poured them another shot. “You gave me hell last night for making a decision for you. Was that weak?”