Exposed by Fate (Serve #2)(31)

Eliza moaned. Climax loomed so close, her muscles felt ready to explode or give out. She didn’t know. Her arms trembled at her sides, hands clawing at the table.

Oliver growled and sunk his teeth into her neck, hand still clasping her jaw. “They might be able to see what I’m doing to you, but they can’t feel how you’re trying to wring the come out of me.” Sweat fell from his forehead onto the table. “They can’t hear the way my flesh smacks yours, loud and wet. They wish they could, but I’m the only,” thrust “one,” thrust “f*cking you.” Thrustthrustthrust. “Aren’t I?”

“Yes.” With her answer came a rippling flood of sensation so potent, she bucked against the table, her body not sure how to handle it all. Every muscle she possessed spasmed uncontrollably. Oliver continued to pound into her from behind, groaning at the force of her orgasm. She could feel her flesh convulsing around him, knew instinctively it pleased him and he wouldn’t be far behind.

“You’re making me come. Don’t want to stop, but…” He gripped her hips and yanked her back, pushing deep at the same time. His fingers dug into her flesh possessively. “Ah f*ck, take it all. Take it.”

Feeling Oliver’s powerful body shake had to be one of the most amazing feelings in her life. Pride, awe…something she couldn’t explore when her emotions were too raw. It threatened to encompass her, drag her into an unknown abyss. Just like last time, she felt a spark of panic. As if she’d let a piece of herself fly away and could never get it back.

Oliver’s lips tracing her shoulder, kissing her neck, anchored her immediately.

Just as quickly as the panic receded, it came back.

What would she do when Oliver wasn’t there to ground her?





Chapter Thirteen


One lesson left.

Oliver leaned against the hallway wall and watched Eliza return to the party. When she reached the door and looked at him over her shoulder with a hint of uncertainty, he nodded at her to let her know he’d be right behind her. Honestly, he didn’t even know if the gap in their returns would make an ounce of difference. They both looked how he felt. Satisfied. Fucked up. Shell-shocked. All of the above.

As soon as the door closed behind her, he slumped against the wall. Time to take stock. He’d just had heaven-glimpsing sex with an amazing girl. An unbelievable girl. The next step was to have a drink and cab it home, maybe heat up some leftovers and watch the Discovery Channel. His usual plan shouldn’t make him feel smothered in loneliness. He was living the dream right?

No. It had stopped being his dream. He wanted his usual routine, but…he wanted someone with him while he did it. Not just any someone, though. The girl had a face. A beautiful face that he was just starting to acknowledge had been living in his head for a while. Too long. He hadn’t been ready to see it. Now that he had, he was too f*cking late. He was all used up. If an exact replica of him tried to date Eliza, he would talk her out of it. Could hear the speech in his head, clear as day. Eliza, you can do way better than that scum bag. He’ll use you without thinking twice. You can’t change him.

She had changed him, though. Or maybe he’d just been sitting back, dying for her to make the first move, knowing he’d be damned for making it himself. He didn’t know. He only knew he wanted to go back out into the party, scoop her up and bring her home. Lay her down on his bed and kiss every inch of her, promise her that he’d be gentler this time. It felt like what he was supposed to do. He didn’t want to make an appointment to f*ck her one more time, then call them square. Set her up with someone who wouldn’t fully understand whose presence he’d been gifted with. Jesus.

He bent forward and put his hands on his knees, trying to breathe through the horror of that. This is what all those nights of empty sex had led to. He felt like Ebenezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol and the Ghost of Hook-Ups Past had just shown up to take him on a tour of Hell. But he wouldn’t wake up from this. If he scheduled that final lesson with Eliza, he’d be dooming himself to watch her walk away.

So he wouldn’t.

The light bulb went off in Oliver’s head, and he slowly straightened. If he didn’t schedule the final lesson, she couldn’t leave. Couldn’t go out with Porter. They’d agreed on it, taken a shot of ouzo to seal the deal. Okay. So what did he do with the stay of execution?

When he let the idea settle, his heart started to pound. Could he? Could he…try and keep her? If he spent time with her, just the two of them, without sex being the reason, maybe he could convince her he wasn’t past redemption. He couldn’t be. Not when he felt like the world would stop turning after their final lesson. And hey, hey, Ebenezer Scrooge redeemed himself at the end A Christmas Carol, didn’t he? Sure did. Showed up with a big-ass turkey and everything.

New game plan. Get Eliza alone and don’t have sex with her. Sounded shitty on the surface, but if he could get her to see past Oliver the Womanizer, he had to believe she’d give him a shot. The alternative was to f*ck her blind one more time, cement his addiction to her, then watch her bail. Not an option at this point.

He shadowboxed the air in front of him and stretched his neck, feeling optimistic for the first time in weeks. Until he acknowledged what he was up against. A disinterested female. God help him.

After straightening his bow tie, he went toward the door Eliza had gone through and nudged it open. His gaze found her at the bar ordering a drink. Long minutes passed before he realized he’d been staring at her. God, he wanted her. For keeps. He wanted to make her laugh. Wanted to be the man who had the privilege of showing up at the party and being introduced as her boyfriend. Eliza’s boyfriend. It sounded so innocent but it made him hard. It made him wish he’d kept her back in the conference room for round two. Maybe he could have passed it off as lesson two point five.