Chapter 26

Becka

I had no intention of sleeping with Oliver, until he had said he missed me and looked at me with eyes that were so sincere, so genuine, I could have melted right on the spot. I had a lot to absorb; he had told me several things during his explanation… first, I now knew how Ethan and Oliver fit together. More importantly, Oliver had let me know that he knew about my research.

I didn’t know how he knew, unless he had suspected I was doing something like that and had searched his computer on my desk. I suppose it was stupid of me to do my research there, but I had gathered very important evidence and I knew the only reason I’d gotten it was because I’d had access to some of the company’s files on that particular server.

He took me to my bed and he laid me down as gently as something treasured, then slowly began to undress me. I could feel his cock, hard, longing, against his jeans. I wanted him inside me, wanted him desperately, but I also wanted things to last. My trust in him had been broken slightly; I didn’t know if he was going to disappear again.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” I whispered through our kissing.

“You can trust me,” he breathed.

“What if you disappear again?” I asked. “I mean, where were you?”

He paused, looking into my eyes. I knew we’d had our conversation and I didn’t want to keep bringing it up, but the fact was, I was scared. I knew if he could disappear without any notice and didn’t call me, I’d be on my own. The idea of being on my own to fend off the press, to explain his actions, even be alone with Ethan, was terrifying.

“I told you; I had to disappear because of the heat of the press. There was no other reason. I promise you.” His fingers trailed over my breast and I felt a shiver move through me.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you take me with you?”

“My love, the less you know, the less connected you are to me, the safer you are. Don’t you understand? That’s why I’m so worried about the research you’ve been doing. If you know more than you should, you’re far more apt to get caught up in the media shit storm, and I want to protect you from that.”

He made sense. He kissed me.

“If I’d told you where I was, or if I’d tried to contact you, the press would have somehow found out about it. They’re like sharks in a pool of blood. They snap at whatever they can get. Hurt first, ask questions later.”

I wrapped my arms around him, drew him to me, felt his cock pulsing against my thigh. “I don’t want to be without you,” I said.

His response was to kiss my breasts, one at a time, slowly, his tongue swirling around my nipple in a way that drove any thoughts of the past or future out of my mind. The only thing I knew was the present moment, his lips and tongue on me, my arms around him. I wrapped my legs around his hips and felt his cock moving closer and closer to its destination.

He pulled back from me and sighed admiringly, scanning my body in appreciation.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. He moved down and began to kiss my inner thighs, sending waves of arousal through me. “You’re so wet,” he said, licking the apex of my thighs. He used his hand to spread my legs further, and slid two fingers easily inside me. He continued to kiss and lick me as he finger-fucked me slowly, like we had all the time in the world together.

I gazed at him, licking up my arousal, and I knew that he was the one I wanted to be with. There was no way Ethan could ever measure up to Oliver; Oliver made love to me with feeling. We had a true connection.

He began to kiss up my stomach, stopping to sample each square inch of my flesh.

“Your skin is so smooth, so perfect,” he murmured as he made his way back up to my neck. I spread my legs and wrapped them around his hips and he entered me, beginning immediately to thrust into me with each breath. He filled me, his eyes meeting mine, and we rocked together until I felt my orgasm swelling.

“I’m gonna cum,” I whispered. “Oh my God, you feel so good inside me.”

“You feel better than I ever could. Cum for me,” he said, pressing closer to me and hitting my clit with each thrust.

I came quickly, a force pushing through me, energy surging, and I cried out. He pushed harder, authoritatively, and groaned as he came in me. I held him to me, my nails scratching his back, keeping him as close as I could.

When he finished his final pulses into me, he sighed and relaxed. We lay together, him on top of me, breathing quietly, until he finally rolled off as our breath steadied.

“I want to make it up to you,” he whispered into the dark.

“Make what up to me? That was fucking amazing,” I said. I was smiling; I couldn’t help it.

“Not that… that was absolutely amazing. I want to make up the last week. Two weeks. The last month. I want you to know how much you mean to me. Where do you want to go? We can go anywhere in the world. We’ll leave tonight.” He rolled up on one elbow and I could feel him looking at me in the dark.

I thought. Where would I go if I could go absolutely anywhere? Italy? Russia? Belize?

“I want to stay right here,” I said. “With you.”

“Seriously,” he said. “I’ll take you anywhere.”

“That’s the problem with you; you run away too much. I want to stay here with you. A stay-cation. I want to order food in, watch movies, fuck, and fuck some more.” I stared at the ceiling, once again in disbelief of my own choices. There was a time when I would have wished for a million dollars so that I could go anywhere, do anything. Now, I had that chance, and I had the chance with the man that I cared about the most… and all I wanted to do was stay home.

“Well,” he said, “that’s a pretty easy thing to do.”

“Is it?” I asked. “Every time I turn around you’ve disappeared.”

He sighed. “How many times are you going to remind me of that?” I could hear an edge to his voice, and I knew that I was getting close to pushing his patience, if I hadn’t already.

“Until you understand how much it hurt me that you didn’t include me,” I said plainly.

He looked at me and I could see the whites of his eyes in the dark now that my eyes were adjusting.

“Becka,” he said slowly, “I know that you were and are hurt. I promise, I will never hurt you like that again. Ever. I’ve always only had your best interests at heart. I care about you, and the last thing I want, ever, is to see you hurt.”

He kissed me then, and we made love again, twice. In the morning, I woke up and heard him in the kitchen making coffee. I smiled, smelling the delicious coffee and imagining him bringing a tray of delicious breakfast into my bedroom for us to share. I heard him whistling happily. I waited, listening to him, until my stomach started to growl, and the scent of fresh coffee began to disperse around the apartment. What on earth was keeping him?

“Oliver?” I called out. “Honey?” I wrapped my robe around myself and I opened my door, walking through the living room and into the kitchen.

Lisa stood there, alone. “Oh, hey,” she said. “Do you want some coffee? There’s just a little left, but I can make more.” She looked me up and down. “Sorry, I thought you were staying at Oliver’s. I assumed I was alone.”

I looked around. “You didn’t see him this morning?” I asked. “What time did you get home?”

She giggled. “Like I have any clue. Four? Five? It wasn’t quite light, but it was close. Maybe.”

I looked around the apartment as if I expected Oliver to be hiding somewhere. And, truthfully, I think I expected him to be. There was no way he would have promised me everything he promised me last night and then leave this morning. Not a chance.

“Sorry,” Lisa was saying. “I truly didn’t see him.”

With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I walked into the second bedroom Lisa and I shared as an office. I had overtaken it for the most part over the last few months with my research, which I kept in two file boxes next to the desk.

They were gone.

“Lisa!” I yelled. “Did you move those two boxes in the office? The file boxes on the floor?”

“The boxes you’ve been treating like your first born? No ma’am,” she said. “Not a chance in the world I’d even touch them.”

I racked my brain, trying to remember if I’d moved them. Thinking of any reason why I might have taken them out of the office. But, of course, that was all my brain just exercising itself to no end. I knew full well I hadn’t moved the boxes. The outline created by their weight was still visible in the carpet. I never moved the boxes. Any research I was working to complete, I always carried in my messenger bag.

“That asshole,” I said.

“Who?” Lisa said, poking her head over my shoulder and looking into the office.

“Oliver,” I said flatly. “He stole my research.”