Exposed by Fate (Serve #2)(7)

Oliver didn’t answer. He had to get her out of his sight soon, or he’d do something he regretted, like follow her into the cab and rattle off his own address. No, whatever shred of honor he had left needed to give her one full day to back out of the deal. She’d had a few drinks and the very least he could do is not take advantage. That would apparently start tomorrow.

Thankfully, a wave of cabs came down the block then, and he hailed the first one. “Text me when you get home.”

She rolled her eyes and ducked into the back seat. “See you tomorrow. I won’t back out, you know.”

A minute later, when Oliver realized he’d been staring after the long-gone cab, he shook himself and went back inside. His bed suddenly sounded incredibly appealing, but he’d told Eliza he would handle Porter first. Keeping an eye out for Wendy so he could avoid her, he skirted around the edge of the lounge toward the bar, where he immediately caught sight of the man. As if sensing Oliver, he looked up, then glanced behind him, obviously scanning for Eliza. Oliver tried to douse his irritation, but it wouldn’t go away. So when he finally reached Porter, fully intending to tell him Eliza had a family emergency, he said something else entirely.

“Stay away from her.”





Chapter Four


I kissed an Oliver, and I liked it.

Eliza kept the serene expression glued to her face as she listened to her boss wrap up their Monday morning board meeting. She hadn’t heard a damn word of it. Since waking up this morning, she’d been focused on her internal countdown ticker. Seven hours and thirty-three minutes to go until she actually commuted to her best friend’s womanizing brother’s house with the intention of getting busy. Just two consenting adults getting it on, passing on some good old BDSM know-how, nothing to see here. Moving right along.

Is it too early in the day for tequila?

She wouldn’t back out. She wouldn’t. Not after her confident parting shot last night. The plan was solid, she just had to remember that. When it came to men, she lacked any knowledge of what they liked. Hell, she didn’t know what she liked. No better person to find out with than resident sexpert Oliver. In a few short months, he probably wouldn’t even remember that their three little lessons had taken place. She’ll have faded into the whirlpool of women he swam in on a daily basis, and happily moved on. To Porter, or someone else.

If she enjoyed the sweet loving heck out of those lessons, well, could anyone blame her? As if she’d voiced the question aloud, Eliza glanced around at her female co-workers seated around the table. No one has anything to say? Huh? I didn’t think so.

Most women her age had indulged their libidos at will. Throw in the fast-paced, chock-full-of-men city they lived in, and you could raise that percentage by double-digits. She’d had sex twice. Bad sex. In fact, bad was an under exaggeration. Her first time had been in the back of a Honda Accord, and the guy hadn’t even lasted through the end of, “Let’s Get it Started,” by the Black Eyed Peas. Ironic? Oh, yeah. The second time, she’d been on vacation visiting her mother in Maine for Christmas. She’d bumped into her old high school crush who now managed a Staples. They’d gone back to his apartment and had sex on his twin bed while she stared up at the Penthouse centerfold he’d taped to his ceiling.

She’d earned Oliver Preston, dammit. Just once, she’d like to know what all the fuss was about. Not just sex-wise, but Oliver-wise. What left all those women starry-eyed and clinging to his arm like a life preserver at the parties they’d attended together? Last night when he’d turned that smoldering interest on her, she’d seen her chance to find out. An introduction into what her body needed, what it craved. She’d find out if the fantasies she’d been having for years about being dominated had any merit, or if they were just her confused brain guessing what she wanted. But Eliza didn’t think so. The idea of being restrained, left to a man’s mercy…

Eliza shifted in her seat, managing an interested expression for her CEO, Regina, who was now detailing their plans for redesigning a hotel lobby in Soho. The project didn’t concern Eliza, since she worked on residential accounts exclusively, but she needed to keep an ear tuned to the presentation in case the topic changed. Not easy, when in addition to her nerves performing triple axels in her stomach, she also had an oversized case of best friend guilt. If Caroline knew her plans for the evening, she would shit monkeys. It had always gone unspoken between them that Oliver was off limits. Player or not, Caroline had always been protective of him, even though she was the younger sibling. Furthermore, they’d both eye-rolled their way through most of his girlfriends and his inability to keep one around, so Eliza’s plan would probably shock the hell out of Caroline.

Honestly, Eliza was a little shocked at herself. She’d always done things by the book. Followed social codes. Last night, with Oliver’s mouth on her neck and his erection pressing between her legs, her best friend had been the furthest thing from her mind. But after watching Caroline exist in a state of sexual bliss for the last month, she was ready for her own experience. Not that she was jealous, per se…

Okay, she was jealous. She wanted to walk to work glowing, memories of the previous night fresh in her head, her thighs sore from holding on tight.

Eliza fanned herself and tried to think of something else. Something safer. She allowed Porter’s image to materialize in her head, but it was quickly replaced by Oliver. A frown marred her forehead. Oliver would only be temporary, she had to remember that. She would design a bedroom around zebra print before falling into his stunned pile of sexually electrified women. Surely her nerves over the upcoming evening were the only reason his smiling face kept overshadowing Porter.