by T. S. Ryder
Oliver hesitated but nodded. "I have been told that I have issues with personal boundaries. Please believe that I don't mean any harm by it. I just like touching and physical contact. I always have. I'll try to do better, and don't hesitate to tell me to back off."
Mack nodded, accepting that. "Now, as for this 'playtime' that you mentioned—"
The chastised look disappeared. Dimples flashed at her, catching her by surprise, as he grinned. "I hope you brought a sports bra."
Seriously? Mack put her hands on her hips. "We're going to have to have a talk about what's appropriate to say to me and what's not."
***
"You have got to be kidding me."
Mack stared at the huge jungle gym. It was like every children's playground she had ever seen had merged into one and then grown three times, making it the perfect size for a man as massive as Oliver to swing around on. It was in a glass-roofed room like the atrium, only this one was closed up and had the distinct chill of air conditioning. Thick rubber grips covered every surface, and the floor was a pit of tiny paper balls. Like gravel, only these wouldn't mess up your face if you tripped and fell into them.
"Playtime," Oliver said, striding past her. He scrambled up a rock climbing wall with a grace that belied his size and grinned down at her. "It's vital for social development that primates play together."
"You are nothing more than an overgrown child, you know that, right?" Mack put her hands on her hips. "Social development my ass."
"I thought I wasn't allowed to talk about your ass."
Mack repressed a smile at the almost-suggestive way Oliver raised his brows.
The eccentric billionaire raced to a set of monkey bars, for all intents and purposes giggling as he did so. The sound was bizarre coming from a man with arms the size of barrels. "Come catch me, Mack! If you do, I'll turn on the air conditioning in your room tonight."
Mack glanced down at what she was wearing. Even though this room was cooler than the rest of the house, her thick jeans were designed to squeeze her thighs smaller, not to allow her to climb all over a jungle gym. "I need to go change first."
"Nope. Now, before I get bored."
Mack looked up at him, swinging from one hand above her head. The promise of air conditioning was too powerful to ignore. She yanked off her jeans, biting back a sigh of relief as her legs were freed from their tight confines, and ran for the nearest ladder.
Oliver hooted as he returned to the main jungle gym, waiting until she was on the same level as he was before he took off towards the slides on the other end. Mack's breasts bounced and plopped all over the place as she crossed a swaying bridge to go after him.
Yep, she thought, using one hand to grip them in place as she moved as quickly as she could. I need to wear a sports bra for this.
Chapter Three
Mack was surprised at just how much she enjoyed being Oliver's caretaker.
For the first few days, she felt like a mix between an animal keeper and babysitter, but the eccentric billionaire was fun to hang out with. For the most part, he liked to lounge in the atrium, sitting on a tree branch or napping in one of the many hammocks that were scattered through the room. He sometimes had bursts of energy where he would tear through the house, whooping and hollering, but for the most part he was surprisingly lazy.
At first, his constant state of near-undress was awkward to be around, but after a few days of constant sweating she followed his example and lounged around wearing only her tank top and granny panties. For once she was thankful that she never had the confidence to buy sexy underwear–if she had lace and thongs instead of sensible black or white cotton briefs, she'd never experience this kind of freedom. It wasn't like it was any more revealing than a swimsuit, anyway. The only downside was that she had had to start applying deodorant to the insides of her thighs to keep them from chafing when they rubbed together.
A couple of weeks in, Mack rolled out of bed, not bothering to brush her hair as she left her nice, cool room and padded down the hall to Oliver's open door. A breakfast of frozen fruit sounded good today.
"Time to get up," she called, but stopped dead in the doorway.
The bed was neat, the way she had made it the previous morning–Oliver never made his bed, so he couldn't have slept in it last night. And given that there weren't trails of leaves all over the carpet, he might not have even come to his room at all.
Frowning, she hurried down the ladder that connected the bedrooms to the rest of the house. He wasn't in his office or the kitchen. As she approached the atrium, the most inhuman screeching noises caused her heart to jump to her throat.
A shudder ran down her spine, making her breath catch in her throat. It reminded her of when she worked at the zoo and one of the gorilla mothers had lost her baby. The pure grief in the mother's voice as she screamed and clutched at her dead baby had been utterly heartbreaking.
Mack rushed towards the atrium. What if an animal had gotten into the building, or Oliver was hurt? What would she do? What could she do, hours away from any sort of help? There was a first aid kit in the kitchen, but if Oliver was badly hurt, there was no way she could carry him anywhere!
When she reached the atrium doors, Mack stopped dead. It wasn't an animal making the noise.
It was Oliver.
He was half-crouched, running back and forth on bent legs, supporting himself on his knuckles. His head jerked from side to side, mouth wide open as he howled. Hands shot out, ripping roots from the ground, throwing foliage into the air, and he beat his chest. Mack stared, transfixed. If the sounds he was making were gorilla-like, his actions were even more. Even the shape of his body looked exactly like the barrel-chested silverback at the zoo as he ran on all fours.
"Oliver?"
His screeching died away, but he turned his back to her, his entire body going rigid. Mack's heart pounded as she inched forward. For an instant, she was tempted to make the same gentle grunting noises that the female gorillas made for the silverback when he was upset, which always seemed to calm him down. She dismissed the idea–Oliver was not a gorilla.
"Hey," she said, keeping her voice low, soothing. "Wanna talk to me, Oliver?"
"Mack." His voice was strangled, hoarse.
"Yeah, it's me. You weren't in your room." Rather than approaching him dead-on, Mack inched around to the side, so that he could see her approaching. "I got worried."
"Is it morning already?" He turned towards her. Tear tracks ran down his face, and his expression was dazed and unfocused.
Mack nodded. Her heart was pounding against her ribs, her nerves tingling, but she made sure to keep her body language open and non-threatening. There was something about him that looked trapped and ready to spring into flight or fight mode, and she just wanted to show him he was safe. It was odd, because if he did decide to fight, there wasn't a whole lot she could do to hurt him.
He's not going to hurt me, Mack thought, and she knew it was true. She continued to move cautiously, but she wasn't afraid he'd come at her–more afraid that he'd run and she wouldn't be able to help.
Damn. I care about him more than I want to admit. When did that happen? It took her months to connect to people, yet with Oliver it had happened in a matter of days.
"Want to tell me what happened?" Mack bit her lip. "I've never seen you like this."
"Today's the day my parents died."
Mack crouched, arms folded over her knees. "How long ago was that?"
"Ten years. I was seventeen. It was a car accident. A head-on collision with another car."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, shifting forwards. "That's horrible."
"It was my fault. I was fighting with my dad. I distracted him." Oliver's gaze locked on hers and he shivered, his immense chest heaving, sweat coating his arms and face. "We were always fighting. I can't even remember the last time we had spent time together when I didn't turn it into a fight."
"You were seventeen."
Oliver shivered again
.
"Kids that age fight with their parents. They're almost adults but are still children, and parents don't always get that. I remember when I was seventeen, I was constantly getting into battles with my mom over the stupidest things. But really I was just trying to figure out who I was and where I fit in the world. I remember one time, my mom suggested that I braid my hair, but I didn't think it was long enough and I screamed at her." Mack shook her head. "I was a little bitch."
Oliver's lips twitched. "I wanted to look into my adoption records. I guess my dad thought it meant I didn't really think of them as my parents. My mom was trying to calm us down. She was always the calm one, always able to get us to think things through. I remember suddenly seeing headlights…"
Mack was close enough to touch now, and she cautiously pressed a hand to his chest. His heart pounded against her fingers, and slowly she wrapped her arms around him. "It's not your fault."
Oliver remained stiff in her arms for a moment, then his arms went around her as well and his forehead dropped to her shoulder. The sweat on his skin suctioned them together, and his colossal shoulders trembled.
"I miss them. I've looked for my birth parents since then, but I was left at a hospital as an infant. There isn't even any security footage of the person who left me."
Mack thought of her own family, her annoying but endearing brothers, her down-to-earth father who always helped her find the most practical way of doing things, her fanciful mother who always encouraged her to find her dreams. Tears burned in her eyes and, without even being aware of it, she started talking again.
"Gedge, the drug lord I saw murder my boss, he never went after my family. But I'm afraid every day that he will. They're going to be moved into witness protection, too, but right now I can't even talk to them. We were always close."
"At least you have them. I'll never have a family again."
"Of course you will." She pulled back and smiled at him. "You're going to have a family again. You're going to find a wonderful woman, fall in love and have kids. It's going to be great."
His arms tightened around her and she suddenly became aware of just how close their bodies were. Her breasts were mashed against his chest. Their faces so close that she could smell his breath–it smelled like oranges. Her knees were on either side of his hips, her skin stuck to his. Her heart increased at the intimacy of their position.
Oliver's gaze flickered to her lips and she held her breath–was he going to kiss her?
To her disappointment, which was so strong it startled her, Oliver released her. He straightened, backing away from her. His movements were cool, calm, his face expressionless. She couldn't bring herself to stand as well, but stayed crouching where she was, staring up at him.
"No. I'll never find a woman who will accept everything about me and even if I did… I can't ever have children."
"Why?"
"I just can't." He ran a hand through his hair and marched past her. "I'm going to go shower. Please have my breakfast ready when I'm done."
Mack straightened, pressing a hand to her chest as he strode away. Her whole body felt tight, her brain dizzy. What had that been? I must be dehydrated, she told herself firmly, trying to ignore the tingling in her arms that felt like he was still in her embrace.
Chapter Four
Sweat pooled in the hollow of Mack's throat as she lay in bed, wearing her normal fare of a tank top and briefs. The blankets were a jumbled mess on the floor, and the breeze that moved through the room due to the open door and window wasn't doing her much good. She had given up before she caught Oliver during their playtime that night, and now she was suffering the consequences.
Her mind kept drifting to Oliver; it had been a few days since she had found him tearing up his atrium in grief, and since then he had been his normal cheerful, buoyant self.
He had seemed to be craving physical touch more, though, and Mack found that she enjoyed the small pats on her hands and shoulders that he gave her. He'd even given her a massage. His spade-like hands were surprisingly soft and gentle.
The sound of something moving in her room had adrenaline surging in her blood. Her eyes snapped open. At first, the shadows all blended together, but then–there! A huge shadow darker than the rest. Her heart pounded.
Mack stared at it, her eyes widening as she tried to see if it was real. Slowly, her hand reached for her cellphone, which she always kept on her nightstand even though she couldn't get a signal.
The shadow moved closer and Mack screamed. The dark shape lurched to one side and disappeared out of her door. Mack screamed again, her clumsy fingers dropping her cell phone. She reached for the lamp and was blinded as light flooded the room.
There was nothing in sight, and she rushed to the door. Other than her room, only Oliver's was on this level. There were no stairs, only a fire pole and a ladder that went to the floor beneath.
When Mack turned on the lights in the hallway, she saw nothing. Had it gone into Oliver's room? She dashed back into her room, grabbing an antique candlestick as a weapon, and cautiously approached his room. Her heart thumped in her dry throat, but she wasn't about to turn back, not when there was something up here. It had been huge! Was it a cougar?
Oliver entered the hall before she reached his room. As usual, he only wore his boxers. He yawned, scrubbing at his eyes before frowning at her. "Did I hear you scream?"
"There's an animal in here!" she hissed.
Olive's brows rose. "Animal?"
"I was in bed and there was an animal standing over my bed." Mack lowered the candlestick.
Only now that she was saying it out loud, she wasn't entirely certain it was true. She always had strange dreams, and often when she woke up it took her a few moments to discern truth from a dream. What if she had still been half-asleep?
Oliver's eyes widened. "What kind of animal was it?"
"It was too dark to tell. Did anything go into your room?"
"No. I heard you screaming, but I thought it was just part of my dream."
Despite herself, Mack found herself curious as to what sort of dream she would be screaming in. "Were you having a nightmare?"
He ducked his head and kicked at the carpet. "Yes," he mumbled.
Mack didn't believe it. Her heart warmed as she thought of what other sort of dream she would be screaming in… With Oliver, it was impossible to tell how he felt about her. If he was attracted to her, then—
Stop. Mack tramped down on her musings hard.
Even someone as hard to read as Oliver would have obvious signs of attraction–especially since they both spent all day long running around in their underwear! But then, she had never looked for that sign of attraction… Well, it was rude to stare at people's groins and she wasn't going to start now!
"It might have been a cougar," she said, turning her mind back to what was important. "Nothing else would be able to climb in through the windows."
"The windows up here have screens on them," Oliver offered. "Did you close the door to the next floor?"
Mack opened her mouth, but suddenly she couldn't remember if she had. "I don't know."
Oliver padded down the hallway towards the trapdoor that covered the fire pole and ladder that led downstairs. Mack followed, though she couldn't stop herself from looking over her shoulder every few seconds. Her heart had returned to normal, though, and being close to Oliver she felt safe enough that this whole situation was starting to feel a little ridiculous.
The door was closed, and there was no way an animal would have been able to close it after itself.
"I might have been dreaming," she confessed. "Sometimes that sort of thing happens to me."
"Better safe than sorry." Oliver gave her a smile. "We'll check the windows to see if the screens are intact."
They headed for his room. The blankets on Oliver's bed were twisted up into a nest, and there were scatterings of leaves and twigs everywhere. Mack bit back a sigh as he checked the window in his bathroom–she would have
to vacuum up here again. Well, at least it wasn't the absolute mess it had been when she first arrived!
Last of all, they checked the windows in Mack's room. Other than the time when he had showed her the spacious room, complete with a bathroom that featured a three-person hot tub for a bathtub and a shower big enough to fit four or five people inside, he had never been in there with her. Mack sucked her lip between her teeth, feeling awkward about him being in her private space.
"Everything's intact," Oliver said. "No holes in the screens anywhere."
Mack wrapped her arms around her waist, beginning to shake now that the adrenaline was wearing off. "It must have been a dream. That happens sometimes. I'm sorry I woke you up."
Oliver scratched his chin, expression puzzled. "Are you okay?"
"It's probably the heat." She forced a smile. "I've never been able to sleep well hot, and it leads to that half-awake half-sleeping drugged state where everything seems real."
It had felt so real, though. Different than any other time she had ever experienced the waking dreams that so often confused her. But there was no way an animal had gotten into her room. Unless…
"I want to see something." She grabbed Oliver's hand and dragged him back to the main part of her bedroom, positioning him at the foot of her bed.
"What is it?"
She didn't answer, flicking off the hallway light before laying back down and turning off her bedside lamp. Her breathing was shallow as she peered into the darkness. She could barely see the dark shadow that was Oliver. But he was far too tall to have been the thing standing over her bed.
"Mack, what is it?"
"Take a step back?"
Oliver did so, grumbling. "Do you think I came into your room?"
"No. But Gedge is still after me. If he learned where I was…" She turned the light back on. "But what I saw–what I think I saw was too short to be a person. I guess I was just dreaming. I'm not going to be able to sleep at all tonight, though."
Guilt flashed across Oliver's face. "It was me," he blurted. "I'm sorry. It was me."
