I’m finally able to roll my hips, needing him. He rolls back, needing me.
Together, we bring him to orgasm. I feel him pulsing inside me, coming with a howl.
“I don’t know how this keeps getting better,” I say when he finally catches his breath. “But it does.”
“I’m a chef,” he says, pressing his lips to my neck. “You knew I’d eventually have to make love to you in a kitchen, right?”
I laugh, pulling him closer.
I can never get my southern charmer close enough.Chapter Thirty-OneEliI wake up the next morning in Olivia’s bed with a big stupid grin on my face.
She said it back.
She told me she loved me.
I’ve known for a while that I’m in love with her. Ever since—
Well. I honestly couldn’t tell you the exact moment I fell in love with Olivia. Coulda been that night we danced to Bruce Springsteen in the rain. Or the moment she melted into me when we first kissed.
Coulda been that first morning she showed up in my kitchen. That fire in her eyes. The way she’d smiled after devouring the breakfast I’d made her.
I never had a chance, did I?
Olivia rustles beside me. She’s on her side, her back to me. The sheets fall away, revealing her bare shoulder.
Getting onto my side, I take it in my mouth. She moans. Without rolling over, she wiggles her hips, settling her ass into my groin.
Grabbing her top leg, I pull it over mine, opening her. I reach around to slide my hand down the plane of her stomach and find her.
Lust bolts me through me at her bareness. As if I didn’t wake up hard enough as it is.
She’s swollen. So slick her arousal coats my fingers.
I groan my approval, giving her clit a soft, slow massage with my fingertips.
“Mornin’, baby,” I murmur into her neck.
She presses her ass into my cock. “Please,” she breathes.
“Not too sore?”
“Baby, please.”
I grin harder. First time she’s ever called me baby.
I fucking love it.
I grab a condom from the bedside table and roll it on.
Her leg still resting over mine, I guide myself to her cleft. I take her hip in my hand. Then I slip inside her, quick and quiet, biting the tendon that connects her neck to her shoulder.
“Oh,” she pants, voice still raspy with sleep. “That feels—Elijah, that feels so nice.”
I adore how she tells me what she likes. What she wants.
Olivia reaches down and starts playing with herself as I thrust gently in and out of her.
She comes five seconds later, clamping down on my dick like a vise. Then I come, too.
All this sex has made me feel so connected to her. She’s become an essential part of me. When she’s not with me, I feel like something is missing. I feel sore, like her absence is a literal bruise.
“I love you,” I say.
Olivia glances at me over her shoulder. She smiles, those blue eyes flashing with happiness.
“I love you too.”
My heart soars.
She sits up, letting the sheets fall to her waist. Her tits are nice and heavy, nipples puffy and a little red from the attention I gave them in the middle of the night.
I reach up and take her left breast in my hand, fondling it absentmindedly as she checks her phone.
“I have a lot of writing to do today,” she says, turning to run a hand through my hair. “Would you be cool letting yourself out? As much as I’d like to stay and do this”—she motions to our nakedness—“all morning, I should probably grab a shower and get a head start. Cate and Gunnar are about to have their black moment, which means I’m pretty damn close to being done with the book.”
I give her tit a gentle squeeze before letting it go.
“I’m proud of you, Olivia,” I say. “Just promise me you won’t torture Gunnar and Cate too much, all right? They’re very real to me, and I’m gonna hate to see them hurt.”
She grins, tapping her first finger on the tip of my nose. “Sorry, Elijah, but you know how I love to torture them.”
“You’re a sadist.”
“That’s a serious accusation.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Want to find out if it’s true?”
I groan at a new throb of desire in my groin.
“Get in the shower. Now,” I grind out. “Otherwise you won’t be writin’ a damn thing today.”
Laughing, Olivia gets out of bed and closes the bathroom door behind her. I always want to join her in the shower—and I have, many times—but she didn’t invite me today. And there’s only so much sex a man can take. My dick is actually sore. Girl is tight. Means if she wasn’t sore before, she probably is now.
Best to take a little time off, lest one of us suffer an unfortunate sex-related injury that keeps me from putting my hands on her for days rather than hours.