Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
As we take seats on the couch and Ollie puts on SportsCenter, the rest of us grumble.
“Don’t do this to yourself,” I say and turn to his parents. “Is masochism an Ollie trait or a Strömberg trait?”
“Definitely an Ollie trait,” his mom says. “Nic and Vic too. It seemed to skip over Leo and Max.”
“But Leo and Max are stubborn as all hell,” his dad says.
“Now that’s a Strömberg trait,” Ollie says. “All of you guys are the worst.” He looks at me. “That trait skipped me. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I mock.
“What about your family?” his mom asks.
“Uh, well, I have a younger sister who’s still in college. She’s known to be stubborn. Mom and Dad are kind of set in their way of thinking. I’m delightful.”
“So delightful,” Ollie says dryly.
“Where did you grow up?” she asks.
Ah, the ultimate meeting the parents pastime: grilling the boyfriend.
“Upstate New York.”
“What was that like?” Ollie asks. He’s pressed against me, his arm lying across the back of the couch behind me, and I swear he moves closer as he asks. Is he using this as an excuse to touch me when we agreed we weren’t going to do that? Because I want to hate him for taking advantage but can’t, because I like it too much.
My hand lands on his thigh, and I cock my head. “Shouldn’t you know? I talk to you about it all the time.”
His eyes widen, either in surprise at my hand on his leg and that I’m milking this situation for all it’s worth like he is or he’s pissed as hell that I just threw him in the deep end. “Right. But you know I always tune you out.”
I pinch his leg, which only makes him laugh.
“Ollie said you had to work tonight?” his dad asks.
“I did.” And shit, I still do. I’m surprised my phone isn’t blowing up from my editor waiting for the article so he can fix it and go to bed.
Harry’s up most of the night anyway—God knows we hear about his insomnia constantly—but he gets grumpy when we turn our shit in late.
Ollie’s arm drops to my shoulder, and a gentle hand runs down my arm. My breath hitches, and fuck, this charade could be the death of me. It’s barely gotten started, but it doesn’t take much for me to get going when I think of Ollie.
His touch is sensory overload. The scent of his cologne gets stuck in my nose, the warmth of his chest right near my head makes my face heat, and when I swallow, I swear I can still taste him from last week.
Then I realize he’s talking to me. “Huh?”
He tries to hide his amusement, but it doesn’t work. “Did you need to finish off a report or something? For work? You can use the bedroom.”
“Thanks. I shouldn’t take long.”
The excuse is what I need to peel myself away from Ollie, but when I get up, his eyes go to my crotch, and if the small grin he tries to hide has anything to say, he’s proud of his work. Except now I get to try to balance my laptop on my hard-on. That’s gonna be fun.
What’s going to be even more fun is trying to pick the correct bedroom. A boyfriend who’s been here before would know which one Ollie uses. There are two doors, side by side, both equally possible to be Ollie’s bedroom. Do I play eeny, meeny, miny, moe?
A throat clears behind me, and when I turn, Ollie stretches his arms over his head and subtly points to the door on the right. Smooth.
And as soon as I make my way over to it and close the door behind me, Ollie’s mom’s muffled voice says, “He’s a keeper. Cute as a button.”
“Walls are pretty thin, Ma.”
Probably doesn’t help Ollie’s apartment is bare. The room is simple. Bed, bedside drawers, and a dresser in the corner. Noise must bounce around the emptiness.
I finish off my bittersweet article and upload it to the work cloud. Normally, I’d ask Harry what the plan is now. The Dragons’ season is over, and while technically I’ve been following the whole conference, my focus has definitely been on this team to pull off the win. Now they haven’t, I could be sent back to Chicago or assigned to follow a different team. Maybe Kevin will take back the playoffs seeing as it’s getting near the end.
Which would mean leaving New York.
I’m still staring at the empty space in my email when Ollie enters the bedroom.
“’Rents are going to bed.”
“Oh, okay.” I call out, “Goodnight.”
In reply, there is a low “Such a sweet boy.”
Ollie laughs. “She loves you.”
“So I heard, but—”
I can’t finish my train of thought because Ollie starts stripping out of his suit. He eyes me the entire time, never looking down at his buttons as he undoes them expertly. His fingers work his clothes, and I remember what it was like to have those fingers on me. His large hands gripping my ass as I ground on top of his dick.