Sofie
“A beach house,” I say in disbelief, effectively picking my jaw up off the floor of Oliver’s lightning yellow Ferrari. “No fucking way.”
“Don’t look so surprised.” Oliver hops out and jogs around the slide to open the door for me. “You know well enough by now the way rich men are. If there’s something they can throw money at, they’ll toss stacks of it.”
“Which is how you ended up on a date with me in the first place.”
“Further proof that it’s an excellent idea.”
Oliver offers me his hand and I take it. For the first time, I have a chance to really focus on the details of him.
It’s impressive how much you don’t notice when there are three men all over you, distracting you with their presence and overwhelming you with their touch. For example, Oliver has a rough, raised scar on the back of one hand, starting at the web between his thumb and index finger and moving towards his wrist.
“What’s this?” I ask as he leads me up the driveway.
“Ah.” Oliver laughs briefly. “That’s ancient. You’ve heard the saying curiosity killed the cat?”
“And satisfaction brought him back,” I reply, finishing the saying.
“I wouldn’t call it satisfaction, exactly. I was a dumb kid. Clever, but dumb. Always a deadly combination.” Oliver’s green eyes sparkle mischievously as he slips a key out of his pocket an into the lock on the door. “Read too many comic books. Minor Chemistry mishap. It’s hideous, I know.”
I giggle and raise my elbow up to his eye level.
“Hot glue gun accident,” I say, pointing to the raised welt that still lingers where I put my elbow down on the glue gun’s metal tip.
“Yikes. Were you trying to give yourself super powers too?”
“Strictly arts and crafts, I’m afraid.”
Oliver’s hand finds the small of my back as he guides me into the house. It’s huge. More of a beach mansion, really. Modern and flashy, just the way he seems to like it. And, as a result, super fucking cool.
In the living room alone, I spy a massive television that overlooks the biggest, most plush-looking white couches in the universe, a hologram fireplace and a bar that looks like it could serve an entire house party.
“Whoa,” I say, running my hand through the digitally projected flames of the fire. “This is easily the coolest thing I’ve seen all month.”
“Lucas and Eli need to step up their games, then,” Oliver says with a smug smile. “Here, look.”
He pulls out his phone and moves his thumb across its screen. I watch in awe as the flames of the fire change from realistic looking to pink, then purple, then blue, then green.
“You’re a wizard,” I accuse, narrowing my eyes at him as I grin.
“Something like that. Come on, though.” He reclaims my hand, pulling it out of the fire and back into his big, firm grip once again. “I want to show you the rest of the house.”
“Really? It’s so big…we’ll be here all day if you give me the grand tour.”
“And all night too, if I can manage it,” he says with a wink. “That’s fair, though…for now, I’ll stick to the highlights.”
The highlights, apparently, include a pool table settled in the middle of a hot tub and a wall-sized fish tank with bright, tropical fish contained within. The glass is pleasantly warm to the touch when I place my hand against it. A little orange-and-white striped fish swims beneath my fingers on the other side of the glass.
“You found Nemo,” Oliver whispers in my ear, coming up behind me.
“Please don’t tell me that’s his name,” I giggle, watching the little fish swim off.
Oliver shrugs, tugging me down the hall.
“Then I won’t, but that doesn’t change anything.”
When he gets me to the doorway of the next room, I pull him into it before he flips on the light.
Oliver stumbles forward ever so slightly. His arms wrap around me as he comes to a stop.
“Sofie,” he purrs in my ear. “How forward of you.”
I wrinkle my nose up in delight as I try to make out the shape of his face in the dark.
“I’m a very forward girl,” I admit, because I am.
Then I kiss him, before he can distract me with more obscenely cool shit. Like a robot that makes margaritas or a different robot that makes cosmopolitans.
What? Don’t tell me you honestly think Oliver is the kind of guy who doesn’t own a robot.
Oliver kisses gently at first. Ever the gentleman, his kisses come with little hesitations. Moments when he allows me to pull away if I want to. Moments when I can tell him no. Or stop. Or any of the other words that would leave him making a gentlemanly exit from my embrace.
But I don’t want it to stop. I would kiss this man until I ran out of breath completely if I could.
Oliver is warm. His skin feels so fucking right beneath my fingertips. I can feel the crisp linen of his shirt beneath my palms. The red silk of his tie. I can smell his cologne: spicy and bright, with just a hint of leather.
I could devour this man. Hell, maybe later I will.
“Fuck me,” I moan against his lips.
I can feel him smile as he kisses me at the sound of that request.
“I’d love to,” he admits. “But…later.”
My lips dip into a pout as he flips on the lights.
We’re standing in what must be the guest room. I say what must be because it’s nicer than most master bedrooms—it’s just not in the right part of the house. I can see a big, gorgeous private bathroom just through one door, and a walk-in closet on the other.
“What if I want it now?” I ask him, my eyes glinting with need.
“Then you’ll just have to fucking wait.” Oliver smacks my ass, pulling me against him for another delicious kiss. “I told you I was going to help you de-stress—”
“An orgasm would help immensely in that regard.”
“And you’ll have one,” Oliver agrees. “But first, I’m going to show you the pool area.”
“It’s a little cold for a dip,” I say, wrapping my arms around my body and hugging myself at the thought.
“My pool isn’t,” Oliver reassures me. He turns my body beneath his hands, pointing me at the walk-in closet. “Step on in. Grab a suit.”
Warily, I walk forward. There’s a light switch on the inside on the closet, and when I flip it on, the whole fucking place lights up.
Swimsuits. Designer brands, at a glance. Pretty much wall-to-wall. All back-lit by soft, flattering lighting.
“What the hell are you doing with this many expensive swimsuits, Oliver?” I ask with an accusatory giggle.
“My sister works for Sports Illustrated,” Oliver says with a charming smile as he rubs the back of his neck. “Despite what it looks like, they just like to use my pool area for photo shoots from time to time. And if it means when I bring a beautiful girl over, she has plenty of bikini options to choose from…”
“Do you bring a lot of women here?” I tease. “I’m hurt, Oliver. I thought I was special.”
“You are,” Oliver reassures me. He dips his mouth to my shoulder, placing a warm kiss on my skin there. “You’ll see. Meet me outside when you’ve chosen.”
I turn my gaze back to the swimsuits. The rows and rows of gorgeous, worth-more-than-I-am swimsuits.
How the hell am I going to choose just one?
“And Sofie?” Oliver calls from the doorway. He’s already halfway out of it.
“Yes?”
“Be quick about it.”
He’s gone before I can ask why, but it fills my stomach with butterflies anyway.
I don’t know what he has planned for me, I just know that I can’t fucking wait to discover it.
A few minutes later, I finally emerge from the house, clad in a stunning silver bikini. It would look trashy if it wasn’t made from the finest materials the fashion world has to offer, or if it wasn’t cut like a fucking dream.
But it is, and I look hot as hell in it.
Not quite as steamy as Oliver’s pool area looks, however.
There’s fog rolling off the water where it meets the cool air and red lighting beneath the surface, giving the entire pool a gorgeous crimson glow. A waterfall tumbles down on one side, and on the other, I can just barely hear the crashing of the ocean against the beach as the sun sets on the horizon.
“Holy fuck,” I breathe.
“Funny. I was just thinking the same thing.”
I look over to locate Oliver by the sound of his voice. He’s standing off to one side, hovering over a massage table with oil at hand.
“I know how hard it is to be a Bio major,” he says with a lopsided grin. Which tells me that I’ve got that quintessential stunned Sofie look on my face again. “So I thought I might give you a massage.”
“Let me guess,” I say, matching his smile. “You’d like to help me work out all my kinks?”
“Something like that,” Oliver says as I walk towards him. “But I’m going to pamper you first.”