Oliver (This is Our Life Book 3)

by F. G. Adams

  They both deserve a sense of family and home. I’m the person to give it to them. It’s not biting off more than you can chew when it’s your heart’s desire. I won’t take no for an answer.

  But I need them to choose me, too.

  15

  Fallyn

  “Dreams are for fools,” my father’s haunting voice whispers. “You make your future, Fallyn. Not by wishing but working hard. Get your head out of the clouds and back to reality.”

  What did I know about dreams? The sky’s the limit when you’re sixteen going on twenty-one. I didn’t wear rose-colored glasses growing up in my father’s house, but I still hoped for more.

  I glance to my left side, where Oliver is driving. The serious expression plastered on his face the last ten hours drives home the proposal Keagan and Oliver suggested before we left Rescue.

  I gave them both hell!

  Allow someone else to protect and care for Harper?

  Not gonna happen, right? Through her entire life, I was the only constant, and just like Thelma and Louise, Johnny and June, or hell, even Batman and Robin, we stick together.

  The thought of not being able to reach out and touch her frightens me more than Roman ever has. Then Keagan calmly explained their plan. Harper wouldn’t be in harm’s way. I made my decision rather quickly after that. I had no other choice but to go along with them. I accepted the fact; what they proposed was far too dangerous for her to be around.

  We’ve stopped only for food and gas. I’ve dozed on and off, but Ollie hasn’t slept a wink. I’m not sure how he’s functioning. I study his profile, and guilt surfaces. He’s only trying to help me. I just don’t understand why he kept knowing my past a secret.

  “Fuel’s getting low. There’s a place we can stop about thirty miles south and rest a bit. You wanna grab something to eat? You didn’t eat much earlier,” Oliver mentions, concerned.

  “Whatever,” I bite back; a brick wall shields my heart to protect me from any further disappointment. “You’re the one driving, not me.”

  He groans.

  “You gonna carry that grudge for much longer, Vixen?”

  I shrug and look out at the landscape flying by. The built-in defense mechanism is my way of handling things—survival. The snippy gestures engrained in me from dealing with an abusive father growing up.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I’ll let you know when I decide.”

  “Damn, woman. You’re meaner than a junkyard dog for making me sweat like this.”

  “Hmph. So, now I’m a dog? Wow, Ollie, you sure know how to charm the socks off a lady,” I sneer and lift my hand to my aching forehead.

  “According to my momma, I was born this way.”

  He chuckles and switches lanes of traffic.

  “And you are as far from a dog as Timbuktu is from here. You know exactly what I meant, by the way. You’re vicious when provoked, lil’ Vixen.”

  “That would be smart of you to remember, Mr. Bishop.”

  He doesn’t respond, and silence reigns as we ride down the Interstate to God only knows where. I wasn’t privy to that information; all I know is, I’m ready for a nice hot shower and a change of clothes.

  Sometime later, I walk through the door of motel hell. I’ve watched enough scary movies to know this one resembles the Bates Motel. What was he thinking stopping here?

  “You can grab a shower first. I’ll ordered us a pizza; it should be here by the time you’re done,” Oliver instructs and places my suitcase on the queen-sized bed.

  “Thanks,” I mumble.

  I’m worried sick about Harper’s whereabouts. My eyes pan the room and land on a single bed. What the hell?

  “There’s only one bed, Mr. Bishop. One bed. Where in the hell do you plan on sleeping, huh? Because you can bet your sweet ass you won’t be sharing with me. Are we clear?”

  “Fallyn, you need to give it a rest for a little while. I’m tired, and we’ve only got a few hours to sleep before we need to be back on the road. You know you’re safe with me. How about I promise I won’t touch you unless you ask me to?”

  He winks, and the fight inside of me dims.

  “Come on, baby. Can we call a truce? Just long enough for me to recharge?”

  I draw in the stale air of the sparsely furnished room and pray. Dear Lord, I’m not sure I can resist him, but I can’t be such an unfeeling bitch. After all, he is the one driving. I’ll have to deal with it.

  Turning away, I search the suitcase for a change of clothes and toiletries. Walking around him, I pause at the bathroom door with my back to him.

  Straightening my spine, I concede, “For now, you can have your truce, Mr. Bishop. Just know, once we leave this joint, all bets are off. That’s a promise you can take to the grave, boy-0.”

  I enter the small hotel bathroom and shut the door as his laughter echoes through the walls. Good God, Fallyn. What in the world have you gotten yourself into this time?

  By the time I’ve showered and changed, the delectable aroma of pizza permeates the room. Oliver is perched on the bed, taking up most of the space, with a piece of mouth-watering heaven in his hands. His hair is wet and he has a new change of clothes on. Where did he shower? Do I really care? He looks good enough to eat.

  Just then my tummy grumbles, reminding me of another hunger. I lift the box. When I notice what he’s ordered, I freeze in my tracks.

  “You don’t like chicken and jalapeño pizza? Ever since trying it in Texas, I don’t want another flavor. I’m obsessed.”

  He snorts, takes a bite, and points to a corner desk.

  “I ordered a salad and chicken tenders if you would rather have that.”

  “It’s not that. It’s my go-to pizza of choice. Harper devours mine at least once a week.”

  He stops chewing and stares quizzically my way.

  “You don’t say?”

  I wonder what else we have in common. Is he the yin to my yang, the Tom to my Jerry, the warmth needed to melt the ice in my heart?

  Before I have time to respond, he asks, “Beer or wine?”

  “Beer, of course,” I answer immediately.

  “Football or baseball?”

  “Football. You know I’m from the south. We love our teams.”

  “Gator or Nole?”

  “Florida Gator all the way, baby. Before all this happened, I planned on going to college in Gainesville.”

  I shrug, push the haunting memories back, and focus on enjoying the game we are playing.

  “Chocolate or vanilla?”

  “Neither. Chunky Monkey.”

  “Really? Okay. What about river or beach?”

  “Depends. Do we fish or swim?”

  “Fish.”

  “Then river. Okay, stud, my turn.”

  From out of nowhere, a devilish grin appears. He inclines his chin then sinks his teeth into the steaming pie.

  “Sunrise or sunset?”

  I chew a jalapeño and wait.

  “Sunrise.”

  “Ford or Chevy?”

  “Ford.”

  “Country or rock ’n roll?”

  His forehead crinkles deep in thought before he answers.

  “Nope can’t choose. Love ‘em both.”

  Mouth full of yumminess, I reply, “Fair enough, Ollie. I totally agree with you. Spring or fall?”

  “Well, since that’s when I kissed you, fall is my preference, baby.”

  I stutter, shocked by his answer, and whisper, “Hipster or bikini?”

  “Commando.”

  He smirks.

  “Then I won’t tell you what I’m wearing under these clothes,” I playfully banter.

  He sets his pizza on a napkin and closes his eyes.

  “I can only dream. You’re danglin’ a life raft in front of a drownin’ man, Vixen.”

  “Can’t handle a little heat, cowboy? You should stay away from the fire; you might get burned,” I say and boldly lean forward, placing my hands on his rock-hard chest. My inner dare devil a
rrives, and she wants to play.

  My fingers seem to have a mind of their own, tentatively skipping up the mass of muscles, tracing the flame tattoo along his neck. My hands small against his rugged chest. He tenses at the whisper-like touch. His eyes flare open, and I watch his pupils dilate as I walk my fingers up his neck to bury in his thick, soft hair. I knead his scalp and neck, watching in awe as the tension from driving for hours drifts from him.

  “Am I doing this right?”

  I hesitate and pause the massage.

  “Please, don’t stop, Fallyn. Touch me.”

  His husky voice urges me to continue my ministrations. I didn’t realize what an aphrodisiac simply touching him would be. I’m excited and hopeful; maybe I’m not as broken as I believe. This powerful hulk of a gorgeous man allows me to control what happens between us. It’s as if he can see deep into my soul and knows me. He knows my needs and fears.

  Curious, I lean in and nuzzle his neck, inhaling his addictive scent. My tongue darts out for a taste of the man quickly becoming an obsession. When his firm, salty skin connects with my taste buds, a dam releases a flood of desire over my highly sensitive body. One taste is not enough. I want more.

  His smooth forearms skate around my waist slowly, large hands purposely bringing me even closer. He watches the rise and fall of my cleavage peaking from the thin shirt with hooded eyes. His thumb hoovers over the drawn bud, but he doesn’t touch me. I clench my legs together to lessen the ache.

  Part of me wants to continue and explore this thing between us, but I hesitate, unsure where this will lead. The last time I considered intimacy with a man, I was severely punished for my foolishness. It changed the course of my life. I’m not sure if I want to take the chance even as my purring body screams for his.

  I’m snapped from my thoughts drowning in a turbulent wave of desire by one look. The unknown pressure building inside me, begging for him to help relieve it. Food long forgotten, I’m starving for Oliver. His gaze reflects turmoil. His need. His want. His desire for me.

  He reacts suddenly and hoists me onto his lap, placing my core over his growing cock, and grinds me down on him. I’m in heaven, floating on waves of pleasure at the connection of our bodies. The firmness of his cock sends tingles over my sensitive body. His touch is reverent with a blazing heat.

  I want more. I need so much more from him. I’m no longer able to manage the intense feelings of desire he’s sparked inside me. I’m a wildfire swiftly burning out of control. He moans and stills my arching hips.

  “Told you I wouldn’t do anything without you asking. Shit. Right now, your body is asking, but I need your words. C’mon, Fallyn, I’m begging you to ask me to kiss you. Ask me to touch you.”

  I nod at his plea, incapable of speaking. The heat spreading in me is driving me up one side of a wall and down the other. I can’t concentrate. I’m tumbling fast, head over heels, searching for relief. He doesn’t relent and continues pressure on my hips, not allowing me to move. Frustration swells inside me. I try to move my legs around his waist, but I’m met with his resistance.

  “Not without your words. Say the words,” he commands.

  I nibble the bottom of his ear and lave the pulse throbbing at his throat. I’m lost to the sensations he’s inflicted when a sting registers on my ass. Another wave of heat spreads inside, and my pussy contracts desperately, needing to be filled. An unexpected whimper escapes my lips.

  “Did you just spank me?” I barely whisper, confused at my body’s reaction.

  “I need your words,” is his staunch reply.

  Suddenly, you just know. You know it’s time to start fresh, a new beginning. No more living in the haunted past. Right or wrong, I want him.

  “Kiss me, Ollie. Make me feel alive again,” I softly murmur, relinquishing control to him.

  No sooner are the words out of my mouth, and I’m flipped onto my back. Oliver’s hovering over me, eyes burning with hunger. His muscles are taut with resistance, and his breathing has escalated to a pant.

  “I see you. Only you. No more running, Fallyn.”

  I’ve had my share of ups and downs on this wild and crazy roller coaster of life. It hasn’t been easy. I didn’t realize until this very moment that something was missing, a vital piece in my chess game. Just like moves on a chess board are strategic and well-thought through, so they are in life. The bishop protects the queen, keeps her safe. I needed the protection of a bishop.

  My Oliver Bishop.

  16

  Oliver

  Intimacy is not purely physical.

  It’s the act of connecting with someone so deeply, you feel like you can see into their soul as you let the door to your own heart open up wide. Unrestrained. Unrestricted.

  As I gaze into the depths of lovely hazel eyes, my new favorite color by the way, I’m owned. Sparkling like a forest fire, crackling with a blaze and raging brightly. Eye contact, setting my soul up in flames. Perfect.

  Fallyn Blackwood is a stunning woman. Her hair is fanned out on the pillow as she’s lying beneath me. A beauty so fathomless, I continue to remind myself to breathe as my eyes close from the magnitude of what’s coming. The pounding in my chest beating in chorus with my life force.

  A gambit of emotions flutters inside, dispelling the final burning embers that have laid waste to my dying spirit for so many years. I feel alive.

  Opening my eyes, I lean my head down to taste her mouth, once, twice more. A moan escapes her lips as her pelvis gently rocks in tune with mine. I catch it by devouring her mouth again, because I need it. I want more of her.

  With my free hand, I worship her body. Slowly, slightly, my hand slides down the side of her shirt, tickling softly with each stroke. I find the opening between her jeans and shirt. The velvety smoothness of her skin on my fingertips sends a haze of need and lust through me. I hear her gasp as she closes her eyes in reaction to my touch. In no way immune to the newly formed connection between us.

  My hand stills when the tip of my index finger connects with slightly corrugated flesh. I spread my palm wide over her tiny waist. What the fuck? The urgency to inspect her whole body calls me to action. I tug her shirt up, little by little. I don’t want to frighten her.

  Goose bumps trail my touch, and Fallyn's sharp inhalation claims my attention. Her head is lolling back and forth against the pillow as she moves her hands in an attempt to cover her bare stomach. I grab her wrists and hold them gently by her side while I study the damage that was inflicted on her body.

  The tiny pin-like lacerations scattered around her abdomen produce a lump the size of a softball in my throat.

  “Who would do this to your beautiful body, Fallyn? Why?” I question, my voice clogged with pain and sorrow. “Tell me, Fallyn, what the hell happened? I need a name.”

  I’m gutted by the horrible attack on her. This adds more to the unknown story her life has been and a new dimension to the person she is. Placing my mouth on her midsection, I kiss each and every mark.

  When I glance up, the expression on her face pulls at my heartstrings as she stares at me warily.

  “Tell me, baby. One name. I—”

  “Please…don’t,” Fallyn chokes out. “I…can’t talk about it. Not right now,” she pleads.

  Fallyn closes her eyes, stretches her neck to the ceiling, and inhales deeply. Then she whispers, “Please.”

  Her please is my weakness. I steadily climb back up her body. Brushing my fingers against her furrowing brow, I place tiny kisses on both sides of her swollen lips. The scars replaying over and over in my mind. I’ll set it aside for now if that’s what she needs from me.

  “Please, what, Fallyn. Tell me what you need, baby. Anything for you.”

  She opens her eyes, and our gazes connect. A deep yearning passes between us. My acceptance and her desire. My heart beats erratically with need and want. The acute sense of purpose displayed in her eyes creates a fluttering in my chest. I would do anything for this woman.

  Hesi
tantly, Fallyn answers, “I haven’t been with a man since Roman. And that wasn’t…” She pauses.

  Her eyes full of unshed tears stare back hungry with need.

  “Show me what it feels like, Oliver. Make me believe there’s more.”

  Her passion-infused features strike a bargain with my heart as she licks her lips. I’m at her beck and call. Her every wish is my command.

  I place my hand around the back of her neck and apply gentle pressure. Slow and easy, I remind myself. I’m in control. She needs my strength.

  Bending down, I caress her creased forehead and the tip of her delicate nose with tender pecks until I find her hot, wet mouth. Her lips are soft and welcoming. Passion ignites when she nips at my lips. The sensual kiss deepens as I thrust my tongue into her mouth, demanding her response and receiving it. Our tongues duel as we make love to each other with our mouths.

  The melody of our heavy breathing penetrates the quiet room. We break apart from the heated kiss. My head is swimming from the intensity, but I’m on a mission to fulfill her waking desires. One I will not fail.

  No other words are necessary, and I nod my head in understanding.

  Fallyn watches intently as I scoot down her body and lift her shirt the rest of the way. When I free her breasts, I’m in heaven. I focus in on the full, round twin peaks greeting me. Mine to pleasure. Aside from the minuscule crisscross scars marring the skin underneath her breast, she’s perfect. Hell, she’s perfect because of those scars. The underlining strength is evident more so now than ever, and a piece of the stone wall surrounding my heart crumbles.

  “So beautiful. God made you perfect for me.”

  I’m in awe of this amazing woman with brains and a body made to worship.

  “I’m yours, Fallyn. Only yours. Need you to be mine.”

  Unable to wait any longer, I lean down and suck the first pink nipple into my mouth, suckling hard, making the tip pebble up, stiff and strained. The sensual moans she emits from her swollen lips have me losing the thread on my tightly-held control. I bite down wildly, lost in blissful rapture from her sweet taste, and relish in the rich, savory flavor of her milky-white skin.