Exposed by Fate (Serve #2)(6)



“Oliver! Oliver?”

Fuck. No. The Wedgie Queen had returned from the throne.

The singsong voice she used to call his name told him she hadn’t found him yet, but was searching for him in the crowd. He grabbed hold of a dazed-looking Eliza’s hand and dragged her off the chair, pulling her through the crowd toward the back exit.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t want to know anything else about Gwyneth Paltrow’s blog.”

“God, me either. Walk faster.”

Oliver’s laugh sounded a little sad to his own ears. “Shit. I really like you, bunny.”

They passed the crowded bathrooms and pushed through the emergency exit, letting them out onto Jane Street, which was relatively quiet on a Sunday night. “Why did that sound like a bad thing?” she asked, only slightly out of breath.

“Because I want to do this.” Oliver pushed her up against the side of the brick building and brought his mouth down on top of hers. She didn’t hesitate or show an ounce of surprise, but curled her fingers around his collar and let him ravish her mouth, moaning in a way that made him wild. “And this.” He slipped a hand up the back of her dress and kneaded her bottom, giving it a firm slap when she bit and tugged his bottom lip. “And this.” He levered her off the ground with his hips, thrusting once, just so she could feel him. What she did to him.

Her breath escaped on a sob. “You can like me and still do those things, can’t you?”

“Fuck yes.” He licked into her mouth for a hot kiss. “It’s what comes after that worries me.”

“We know we won’t get attached,” she murmured. “It’ll stay between us.”

Oliver tried to reel himself back before he shoved her panties aside and nailed her against the side of the building. He commanded himself to think. Reason. Not an easy feat when most of his blood had rushed south and taken half his brain cells with it. She was his sister’s friend. A good girl. The kind of girl you brought home for Thanksgiving and who kept a toothbrush at your place. Usually those thoughts alone would be enough to send him diving into the nearest cab, holding up a cross and garlic cloves. Usually. But he couldn’t find the willpower to detach himself from her.

His partially opened mouth traced down over her neck and cleavage, turned on even more by the way her breasts rose and fell in shudders. For him. He brought his mouth to her right breast that, thanks to her arched position, threatened to spill from her dress. Her nipple pressed against the material, a hard little point he wanted in his mouth so bad, he groaned in frustration.

Might as well show her what she’s in for if I agree. If. Oliver bared his teeth and bit her nipple through the material, watching her reaction. If he lived to be two hundred, he hoped he never forgot it, how she sounded, how she felt. Her legs tightened around his waist like a vise, and she yanked his head closer, gasping his name like a prayer. All in the space of three seconds. Oliver very nearly came in his jeans, which would have been a highly embarrassing first.

With unrivaled reluctance, he kissed back up her chest and neck to speak near her ear. “Let’s discuss terms.”

“Okay.”

She answered so quickly, he had to chuckle. “Eager girl.”

For some reason, those words seemed to draw her out of the moment, just a little. He started to tell her there was nothing wrong with eager. He loved her eager. But she beat him to the punch. “Three lessons, Oliver. Three. Any more than that and things will get—”

“Messy,” he finished for her, as if it were his idea.

She grinned. “I’m a very tidy person. You won’t even know I was there.”

“Are we still talking about the same thing?”

She blinked at him. “I’m going to house sit for you. Right?”

He tickled her ribs, making her squeal. “No jokes when we’re discussing terms.”

“Aw, you used to be fun.”

“I’m the most fun you’ve ever had.”

She wiggled her hips. “Tell me about it. Your fun is holding me two feet off the ground.”

Oliver swallowed a curse. One more tweak of her hips and he’d do it. He’d f*ck her right here in public, in plain view of anyone who happened to walk past. “Eliza…” he warned her.

Her smile slipped a little. “You heard me, playboy. Three lessons. No mess.” She shook her head. “I won’t let it mean anything. You’re going to teach me how to rock Porter’s world. That’s where it ends.”

“Right.” Why the hell did that finally clear the fog of lust? With a stiff nod, he stepped back and let her slip to the ground. For the first time in his life, he straightened a woman’s clothing, not liking the amount of thigh she had exposed. How much sense did that make when a moment ago, he was getting ready to ring her bell on a public street? “Come over tomorrow after work. I’ll cook.”

Eliza did a double-take. “You’ll huh?”

“I’m useful for more than one thing, smart ass.” He whirled her toward the street. “Let’s get you a cab.”

“Wait. I have to go make an excuse to Porter.”

“I’ll take care of Porter.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “That sounds ominous.”

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