“The first thing you’re going to do is change out of those leggings and tunic into something sexy.”
I’m going to change into something sexy before I go over to his house at midnight. “Don’t you think that’ll be obvious?”
“Who gives a fuck if it gets you back in bed with him? That’s what you want, right?” She has a point.
“Well, yeah.” I want Oliver but I’m not going over there looking stupid, even if I have had a whole bottle of wine. And a half. I’m not that drunk. Yet. “He left his motorcycle wrench by the pool today.”
“He needs his wrench. Maybe even tomorrow. Perfect excuse to go over there.”
It wouldn’t be the dumbest excuse for dropping by. “Maybe.”
“Maybe, my ass. It’s a fantastic reason for going over there.”
I don’t know. Despite the alcohol, I can still see that expression on his face from two weeks ago. The one that told me he was disgusted by my kink.
And it shakes any liquid courage the wine may have given me. “Maybe it’s not the best idea to go over there after I’ve been drinking.”
Jill holds up her glass of wine. “No. The best idea would be for you to have another two glasses and then go.”
Kristin opens our last bottle of Pinot Grigio and tops off my glass. “Bottoms up, bitch.”
The fence between where I am now and hammered is a thin one. And this glass is going to shove me over the edge.
“Get your ass up. You’re changing out of those fat clothes and putting on something sexy.”
I follow them to my bedroom. I sit on the bed as they go through my wardrobe. Within minutes, it looks like my closet puked all over my room and I’m wearing a spaghetti strap sundress. No bra. “Inconspicuous but easy access to the carrot, just in case.”
The just in case sends chills over my body. “Not so sure about the inconspicuous theory.”
Jill pushes another glass of wine my way. “Finish this off so you don’t chicken out.”
“Another glass or not, I’m considering backing out.”
“No, you’re not. This is the first promising relationship since your breakup with Martin. You’re doing this.”
“My breakup. Right.” I hate that I’ve lied to them. It has felt as though I’m protecting Martin. Nothing could be further from the truth. At the time, Jill and Tommy were together, and if I shared the truth, she would have told him everything. And then what? My brother was so protective of me. He probably would have killed Martin then and there.
I was so ashamed. Mortified it had happened to me in the first place. How could I have been so stupid to remain in a relationship so dark and dangerous?
Jill taps the bottom of my wine glass. “Drink.”
When I see the bottom of the glass, there’s no denying it. I’ve crossed the fence. Fallen over it, actually. I’m tanked. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
My girls walk me to the patio door and Jill holds out the wrench. “You’re hot. Sexy. Confident. He wants you.”
Kristin pushes up on my boobs from the bottom. “Rub your nipples so he can see them through your dress.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Come on, Addie. Do it. Guys love it when they’re hard.”
I recall the special attention Oliver gave to my breasts so I reach into my dress and pinch my nipples, pulling on them so they elongate. “Better?”
“Oh, yeah. He’ll like that.”
“Okay. I’ve got this. I’ve got this. Tell me again I’ve got this.”
“You’ve got this, Addie.”
Jill and Kris are standing at the door when I look back. “Go, ho.”
Fuck. I’m not getting out of this.
My mind and head spin as I cross from my property to Oliver’s. None of the lights are on but I think I see the flash of the television in the living room window.
Even intoxicated, I know I’m a dumbass for doing this. It’s juvenile. I’m acting like a twenty-seven-year-old teenager.
I ring the bell and come up with at least one dozen reasons I should haul ass before he comes to the door and sees me sloshed, in this dress, with erect nipples, on his doorstep. I consider it hard but I’m afraid I’ll face-plant in the front yard. And that would suck so much worse.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. No Oliver. Maybe he isn’t home. After all, it is Saturday night. He’s probably out on a date or some shit like that.
I turn to leave and Oliver opens his front door. He looks at me, puzzled, through squinted eyes. “Max?” His voice is raw and scratchy.
Shit. I woke him.
“Umm . . .”
“What are you doing?”
“Umm . . .”
His hair is unruly, reminding me of a faux hawk gone wrong. He’s shirtless. I can’t take my greedy eyes from his muscular, tattooed chest. I want to lick it. Bite his nipples again. And that damn V at his waist disappearing into those thin athletic shorts. I want to lick it too.
Fuck. He looks amazing.
I want him.
I step closer and grasp the back of his neck with my free hand. I press my mouth to his with the intention of possessing it. And he lets me.
His tongue is soft. Wet. Alluring. Everything I remember.
I came to entice him. Dangle the carrot and walk away. But it’s he who holds the power to seduce me.
Oliver cups his hand around the side of my face. “Max.”
He says my name and I panic as memories of the this-isn’t-going-to-work-for-me incident flashes in my head. I’m terrified to hear what comes after my name so I step away and hold out his tool. “You left your wrench at my house. I thought I’d bring it to you. That’s why I’m here . . . this time of night. . . because I have nothing better to do.”
He chuckles and I want to die because that is likely the lamest damn thing I’ve ever said to someone. “Thanks. I’m sure I would have been looking for this tomorrow.”
“You’re welcome.” I want to run. Get away now.
I’m halfway down the sidewalk when he calls out to me. “Max.”
I stop, before I consider doing otherwise, and turn at the sound of my name. “Hmm?”
“You look beautiful . . . this time of night when you have nothing better to do.”
Fuck. Me.
My carrot may be working on this jackrabbit after all.
Oliver Thorn
I didn’t eat breakfast when I got up. I kept expecting (hoping) I’d get a Sunday brunch invitation from Adely
n after her late-night visit.
Last night’s kiss. It has to mean all isn’t forsaken between us. Surely, it means she’s coming around. Maybe. Hopefully.
Yet, I sit here without a word from her today. Not a call. Not a text. Nada. But that kiss. Fuck. So hot.
There are two cars parked in her drive this morning. At least two people. One of them could have been a man in her bed last night. Maybe a man who would happily give her all the things she desires. Wish I could be that man.
I picture some asshole putting his hands on her. Holding her down. Pulling her hair. Grasping her throat. Fucking her pussy. Maybe even her ass. Plus all the other kinky shit I discovered during my research. Does she want to be treated like a princess in public and a whore in the bedroom?
My blood fucking boils as I consider the possibility of some other man doing those things to her.
I’ve looked out my kitchen window at least a dozen times this morning trying to see what’s going on at Adelyn’s house. Trying to at least catch a glimpse of who’s there. Not knowing is killing me.
But caring is killing me more.
I hear what I believe is a splash and girly squeal. But not a panicked version like the one from the snake yesterday. More of a fun-like yelp.
I take the stairs two at a time and peek through my guest bedroom window since it provides a view into Adelyn’s backyard and pool. I stand there, waiting, to catch a glimpse of Adelyn’s guests. I’m fucking pathetic for this.
I’m pleased when I see one bikini. Then two. And finally a third. She had girlfriends over last night. She wasn’t in a chokehold getting fucked by some alpha asshole.
I’m slightly disgusted by my relief and sudden lift in mood.
Given Adelyn is tied up for the time being, I might as well do something instead of sitting around by myself thinking about how badly I wish I could see her.
I call Porter first. “Hey, dipshit. Want to come over and watch the game later?”
“I’ve got nothing better to do, so sure.”
It’s Sunday and he’s not MIA for the first time in weeks. Not sure what that means. “Game starts at six. Lawry said she was working on some kind of furniture refinishing project with a friend today so I’m gonna see if Tap wants to come too. I’ll ask him to try sweet-talking my sister into sending food.” Hopefully, guacamole.