A Slip of the Hand

Chapter 14

Oliver guides me through his house and punches a code into an electronic door lock. There's a whirring sound, and then he opens the door to a large room. Dim lights from a large iron chandelier illuminate the oppressive black walls and shiny wooden floor. A wall of windows leads out to a balcony, much larger than the one from earlier, that overlooks the party below.

"Is this your bedroom?" I ask, taking it all in. There's a thin rectangular fireplace on the wall across from the bed, surrounded by dark stone. A seating area occupies the corner near the windows, and a couple of guitars hang on the wall beside it. Wooden planks and beams line the ceiling.

"Do you like it?" he grins.

I bite my lip and pounce down onto his pure white bed, and it embraces me like a pillowy cloud. "It's so wonderfully cave-like," I reply, glancing at him from his bed—Oliver Rose's bed!

Oliver ignites the fireplace and switches off the lights. The angles of his face glow a dim orange as he slinks toward me and lowers his body onto mine, wrapping himself around me. The rest of the world is a dark blur as he fills and overwhelms my senses.

"I've been thinking about you a lot," he admits, his warm lips finding my neck.

Those words. From that mouth. In that voice.

My body yields to him, melting into him.

He kisses across my neck, onto my throat, moving slowly lower.

Those lips. My skin.

I can barely breathe, and I swear my body's vibrating.

No, that is vibrating, coming from Oliver's pocket. It continues in demanding pulses before he sits up just enough to wrangle his phone from his pocket. He gives it a careless toss, and it clamors against the floor.

"Whoops," he chuckles darkly, and then continues down my chest, cresting my cleavage.

My chest rises and falls in sharp, ragged heaves as his hand brushes against my nipple, only a thin, silky layer of fabric shielding it from his touch. "Is this okay?" he asks, looking up at me with boyish excitement.

My fingers lace into his hair as I pull his face into my flesh. "Yes," I respond in a breathy voice.

His mouth—that mouth—continues to kiss down my cleavage as his hand sweeps over the front of my top once more.

The phone buzzes against his floor again and again, incessantly.

"Christ," Oliver mutters before rolling down next to me with a sigh. "I thought we could enjoy ourselves for a bit, but..."

Instead of getting up, he takes my hand in his.

"Just a sample," I say, still recovering my breath. I smile at him, studying all the angles of his elegant face. I've never seen him so close before, never seen him look so real.

He smiles weakly and pulls me into him. Slowly, intentionally, he tilts my chin up toward him, and his lips find mine at last. I feel his kiss, Oliver's kiss, and pull his head down to get an even deeper taste.

Buzz, buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz, buzz.

"Christ!" Oliver repeats before dragging himself away from me to go grab his phone. "Yeah?" he says, his voice tense, as he holds it to his ear. "Well, I couldn't answer just then or I would've... Do we really have—Yeah, okay... But... Okay, but— ... I'm fucking listening John, but it's 1:00 in the fucking morning, and you're telling me things I don't want to hear! ... Fine, just send the car, and I'll be out when I'm ready."

"Couldn't wait one fucking day so I could enjoy my party," Oliver grumbles as he ends the call. "Okay," he says in a brighter tone as he turns to me, but there's a gentle sadness in his lush voice. "Turns out, I need to get ready to go now."

I scoot out of his plush bed, and he wraps me in his taut arms.

"I absolutely want to continue this," he says, planting playful kisses on my head. "Next time, I mean."

Oliver takes me to an impressive guest room, the bed just as white and almost as soft as his own. His piercing eyes carefully consider me as he stands in the doorway. There's something vulnerable in them, a side of him I never thought I'd see. I try to memorize every shade of blue in those pools.

"Goodnight, Madison," he says before he kisses me sweetly.

"Goodnight, Oliver," I call softly after him.

I sigh deeply, then shut and lock the door to keep any random drunks out.

The en suite bathroom is well-stocked for overnight guests. I take a toothbrush, even though I packed my own. If nothing else, I'll have a harmless souvenir from Oliver Rose's house.

My mind spins as I close my eyes, the night's events playing on a loop. Despite getting to do all of that with Oliver, my chest feels hollowed by disappointment. The thought that it had to be tonight or it'll never happen niggles at the back of my mind. Maybe I'm worried he'll find out I came onto Daniel earlier and want nothing to do with me anymore. Or maybe I'm worried that he'll realize I'm not special—just another random girl stumbling her way into post-college life.

As I drift into a soft darkness, I recall Oliver's woody scent, his tight body against mine. Daniel's burning eyes...