Oliver I’m floating on a cloud as Lissa goes to Henry’s bedroom to check on him. Truman trots out from the living room to stand beside me. My hands flex into a fist and back, the joy flowing through me, a new and unexpected feeling. I’m gonna nail that fucker’s balls to the wall. The visceral pleasure I feel at being able to get at James, to punch him where it hurts, is all-consuming. I could tell what he was from a mile away: a rich, entitled asshole who thinks he can treat people the way he wants because he has money. Well, he’s about to learn all about the Oliver Heath School of Hard Knocks. I won’t let him hurt her. Ever again. I stand beside Truman in the hallway, listening to Lissa’s quiet movements inside the room. All of a sudden, my entire body goes still, a wave of unease se eping through me. Doors I believed were firmly closed have begun opening. You’re an idiot to think this thing with Lissa will ever work. I’ve lived my life alone. The only person I have ever been truly close to is my mother. I care a great deal about Adelaide, of course, but it’s a working relationship. Lissa will never truly want me. Not in the way that I want her. The parameters of how we met are so blurred and confusing that I don’t quite know how to define what we have. But I’m sure she doesn’t love me. Who in the world would ever love me? I stare at the doorway, frozen with indecision. This is stupid. Everything about my offer, getting in volved in her life, and pulling her de eper into mine is beyond foolish. But I can’t seem to stop. I close my eyes, the shame of how we met tugging at me. I wish it had been somewhere else. Anywhere else. I could have gotten to know her for real, spent time with her outside of my twisted, perverse way of being. I open my eyes again and find her watching me from the doorway. “Are you alright?” she asks, frowning at me as I nod automatically, bending down to pick up the dog, hoping that the gamut of emotions I am feeling isn’t written all over my face. I walk to the doorway, towering above her as I peek inside. Henry is smack dab in the middle of the bed with his arms out to either side. “I’ll need to try and shift him onto his side so I can get in next to him,” Lissa says. “He's been sle eping on his back a lot since the surgery.” “Don’t wake him,” I whisper. “You can come and sle ep in my room.” My hands clutch at Truman as those words leave my mouth. Did I just invite her to sle ep in my bed? Lissa’s brow furrows as she looks at her son’s sle eping body, and then she nods, slowly. “Are you sure?” No. What the hell am I doing? “Yes. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” I turn around, holding the dog tightly to my chest as I try to process what it is I’ve offered. This makes no sense, but I’m not going to backpedal on the offer at this point. I walk down the hallway to my bedroom, which is on the same floor as the guest room. Lissa’s eyes widen as she comes in behind me, staring at my bed and the huge windows letting in a hazy light as the snowflakes continue to fall.
“This room is beautiful,” Lissa says, her voice wavering slightly. “You don’t have to sle ep here if you don’t want to,” I blurt out and expect her to sigh with relief and turn back to her son’s room, but instead she looks up at me, those wide eyes curious. “Where would you prefer me to be?” At my side for the rest of my life. “Here.” I bite my tongue as I lower Truman to the floor. The little menace jumps up on the bed, even though he knows he isn’t allowed to, perhaps discovering that I’m a soft touch when Lissa is around. “Get down,” I say firmly, and Truman lowers on his haunches and sits very primly on the comforter. Lissa snorts softly beside me. “Truman wants to sle ep on the bed too, it seems,” she says tenderly, and I roll my eyes. “He’s so spoiled. But this is worse than usual.” I walk over to the dog, glaring down at him as he pants up at me, but I don’t have the heart to move him. Rubbing my palm over my forehead, I push down the frustration at my own weakness. What is wrong with me today? “I have a spare toothbrush,” I say, nodding toward the bathroom. “Would you like a shower?” A vivid image of her body arched on the hood of my car flits through my mind as she nods awkwardly. “There are towels inside on the left. And some different body washes and shampoos in the cabinet. Use anything you like.” She walks to the bathroom and stops. “Holy hell.” It’s such an odd exclamation from her that I walk up behind her, looking inside to see if there’s something amiss. But it’s the same as it always is. “This is the most beautiful bathroom I’ve ever seen.” I frown down at her as she walks inside. The black marble and gold accents always felt ostentatious to me. I had it done when I first moved in, when I thought gold and black were ‘classy’. If I had to do it over, I would probably choose grays and silvers, but Lissa’s approval is evident as she spins around. “This is bigger than my whole apartment,” she says, laughing softly. “Look at the shower! It’s the size of the Empire State Building!” I can’t help laughing at her as she flits about excitedly, exclaiming at the bathtub and groaning as she bends over it. “Wow. That looks amazing.” “Would you like a bath instead?” “Oh no,” she says quickly. “No. It’s far too late.” I shake my head. “Not at all. You should definitely do it if you want to.” She looks over at me, her eyes shining. “You wouldn’t mind? I haven’t had a bath in way too long and I totally adore a good soak.” “Then a good soak you shall have. I’ll turn it on for you, and you can adjust the temperature. There are bath salts and a couple of other things in the basket there.” I’d just bought these items recently with the thought that maybe someday, if Lissa were here with me, she might want them. “Thank you, Oliver,” she says, beaming at me, making my insides lurch unhelpfully. “Enjoy,” I force out. “And soak as long as you’d like.” I need to leave before I jump in there with you. She’s practically vibrating with glee as I leave her to it, pulling the door almost closed behind me. I glance over at Truman, where he’s now sprawled on the bed, just like Henry, and glower at him as I go to retrieve my book and glasses from the bedside.
Truman cracks one eye open as I hear the water start running. He watches me warily, no doubt expecting to be pushed off the bed, but his fur is almost the exact same shade as the comforter, and I let him be, enjoying how coordinated and comfortable he looks. As I pass the gap in the bathroom door on the way out of the bedroom, I catch a glimpse of Lissa disrobing inside and swiftly look away. Lissa takes me at my word and luxuriates in the bath for almost forty minutes. I make an herbal tea, convincing myself I’m not waiting for her to come to bed, even though it’s obvious I am. It’s late, and I’m usually asle ep by this time, but I can’t settle. Even the sound of her moving around in the bathtub is enough to have my cock at half-mast. I frown down at it irritably as it rises to attention when she st eps out into the bedroom with a towel around her body, holding onto my clothes that she was wearing before her bath. She looks panicked for a second, glancing back at the bathroom door. I hide a smile as she puts the shirt on before pulling the towel out from underneath as if I’ve never seen her naked body. She turns, looking over me quizzically, and I raise an eyebrow. “What’s the problem?” “No problem. I just haven’t seen you in casual clothes before.” I glance down at the T-shirt and loose shorts I wear to bed. “I suppose you haven’t. I stopped wearing suits to bed; they’re too itchy.” She laughs, approaching the bed. It’s absurd how awkward we both are. I’ve been de ep inside this woman dozens of times, and yet it’s as if we’ve never met. No need to decide on a title right away. I tug the covers back, and she climbs in, tiny in the bed, my shirt engulfing her. I place my glasses on top of my book and put them beside my bed, turning off the light as we both stare at the snow falling past the window. “Do you think we’ll be able to get to work in the morning?” she asks. “Yes. But we might need to leave early.” “Won’t people notice if we arrive together?” “Maybe. But I’ll deal with all of that. Don’t worry. Where will Henry go tomorrow when you’re at work?” “I have a wonderful sitter named Jenna. She’ll watch him since he isn’t ready to go back to school yet. If we can drop him off first, that would be amazing. It’ll be nice not to take the bus for once.” “Do you think Henry will be okay with the sitter? You know you can take tomorrow off if you need to.” “Oh, he’ll be fine. He can just rest all day in her guest room and watch cartoons. He’s getting his energy back quickly and is doing so much better.” “Does she feed him well?” I ask, thinking maybe we could stop by a grocery store on the way to the sitter’s place to buy him some food. “Yes, she makes him all the foods he loves—mac and cheese, hot dogs, peanut butter and jelly. And she’s really good at getting some veggies and fruits into him as well. Better than I am, sometimes,” she giggles. She snuggles down beneath the sheets, too far away from me. The distance between us is aggravating, and I’m about to do something about it when she scoots closer. “If you can’t find me in the morning, send out a search patrol,” she murmurs, and I smile, lying back against the pillow, looking into her stormy-blue eyes and itching to touch her. “Is Henry a good sle eper?” I ask. “Usually. Sometimes he has nightmares. But if he wakes up and can’t find me, he’ll call for me.”
“I’ll wake you if I hear him,” I say just as Truman tentatively jumps up on the bed, looking at me hopefully. “Absolutely not,” I say, and he reluctantly gets down onto the ottoman at the end of the bed. “Poor Truman,” Lissa says sadly as she watches him settle down, and with a growl of exasperation, I pull her against my body. “Hm, well, he’ll just get in the way,” I say curtly. Her eyes are shining as she looks up at me. There’s no hiding my erection now, and her leg rubs against it teasingly, sending a zinging electricity through my entire body. My hand slides under her shirt and over her body as she shivers in my arms, and I roll on top of her, ke eping my weight light so I don’t crush her. “We don’t have to do anything, you know,” I say as she looks me over, her pupils dark with lust. “I want to,” she whispers. “As long as you do.” I chuckle. “There’s never any question of that,” I say, rocking my hips against her. I bend down, kissing along her neck as her hands come up to rub my back. I tense as her fingers run over the ridges of the scars under the fabric, but she doesn’t say anything. I throw the covers back, too hot suddenly, as I tug the shirt over her head and throw it to the side. She’s lying beneath me against the gray of my bed sheets, and I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life. “What do you want?” I ask, the snow sending circular shadows falling across her skin. “You,” she says simply, and the intimacy of that simple word undoes me completely. Trying to regain control of myself, I grip her wrists, pushing them roughly over her head as she gasps, arching into me. “I’m going to tie your wrists to my headboard,” I say as her legs widen. “Is that what you want?” “Yes.” Reaching toward the chair beside my bed, I pull the tie I was wearing from the neatly folded pile of clothes. Pulling it toward me, I run it over the bed and up between her breasts. She’s breathing heavily now, her arms above her head, eyes following the tie in fascination. I tie one wrist to the headboard, then the other. She tests the bonds and moans when she realizes there’s hardly any give in them. “Are you okay?” She nods. “You might need another bath after I’m done with you.” “Oh no,” she says, biting her lip. “That would be a tragedy.” “Open your legs.” She does, my hand moving down to her center as she moans beneath me. I’m pleased when I push my finger inside her to find she’s wet and ready for me. “Hm,” I say as she writhes upward again. “Why are you so wet, Lissa? Were you thinking about me during your bath? And how well I fuck you?” She gasps as I push in another finger in one long stroke. Her head is thrown back now, mouth open as I lower over her, covering her lips with my own. The kiss is soft and gentle, quite different from our usual time together, and as I move down her body, Lissa’s moans grow in volume as I pleasure her with my tongue, sucking at her clit.
After a while, I’m pushing three fingers inside her, watching her every reaction as she tugs at her bonds, her whole body moving against the sheets, panting desperately, incoherent words falling from her lips that sound a lot like begging. I sit back on my heels, slowly pulling my fingers free and stroking my hard cock, her eyes fixed on it, licking her lips. Before I can think too much about it, I grab the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head and throwing it to one side. Lissa moans as I lean down, letting my weight press into her. She’s really pulling at her bonds now, but doesn’t ask me to untie her. I line up my cock, groaning as I push inside her wet heat, feeling the walls of her body suck me in as she groans beneath me. “Fuck,” she whispers. “Let me touch you.” I lick her neck, shoving my hips forward the last inch as she cries out, too loudly, and I cover her mouth with my other hand. As I push my cock into her again and build the rhythm, snapping my hips forward with every thrust, she goes wild beneath me, pulling at the tie incessantly, begging silently to release her. Although a part of my brain is telling me to ke ep her tied up, ke ep her locked away where she can’t touch me, the other part obliterates my fears and my hand moves, untying the knot with a flick of my wrist. Instantly, her arms go around me, and we writhe together, her hands roaming over my back, over the scars, without pause, pulling me against her, acc epting me, just as I am. It’s the best and the worst night of my life. I slam into her for what feels like an eternity, her mouth falling open in a silent scream as we come together. I punch my hips forward, going as de ep as I can as she shivers beneath me, her arms around my neck. We’re one in that moment, twisted together with no space between us. I collapse on top of her, breathing heavily, her fingers touching my back so very gently, but I can’t cope with the feeling for long, the alien nature of it triggering something at the back of my mind, an unpleasantness that has nothing to do with her. I roll away. We lie like that, staring at the ceiling without speaking, my hand finding hers against the sheets, our fingers interlacing loosely as she gives a contented little sigh. I’m just on the edge of sle ep, but I pull myself out of bed to go to the bathroom. I close the door, attempting to settle my muddled thoughts. I take my time soaking a warm washcloth for her, glancing up at my reflection, surprised by the contentment I see in my own expression. But when I st ep back into the room again, I come to an abrupt halt. Lissa is sitting up in bed, her phone in her hands and a frown on her face. I pause, the washcloth in my hand, waiting for her to speak, but she doesn’t say a word. Then, she looks up at me, and my stomach clenches at the hurt in her eyes. Hurt and anger. “What is it?” I ask. “You put fifty thousand dollars into my account,” she says, her voice shaking. When I don’t r eply immediately, she gets out of bed, tugging on my shirt, glaring at me in a way she never has before. “I did,” I say carefully. “I wanted to make sure you were properly compensated.” And I really wanted to give you so much more. She scoffs loudly, st epping over my discarded shirt as she approaches me, and it’s only then that I realize I’m naked, exposed, my scars on full display for the first time in my adult life.
But as she comes up to me, she simply passes me by, going to the door. I reach out instinctively, desperate for her not to leave. “Lissa,” I say, but she shakes me off, going to the door and looking back at me as she opens it. “I wanted to give you something. I have so much. Please take it as I meant it.” “And how is it meant?” she snaps. I don’t speak, horrified by the rage on her lovely face. “Goodnight, Oliver,” she bites out and walks out of the room, closing the door behind her quietly so she doesn’t wake Henry. Truman’s head rises from the ottoman, whining at the back of his throat as he watches her leave. Fuck me.