by Nana Malone
Ollie turned to me, his gaze intent on mine. “You really thought we were friends? Seriously, you thought that?”
The sting of the pending rejection had me moving past him. "You know what, never mind.”
I tried to brush past him and he caught my elbow, muttering a curse under his breath. “What I meant was, how could you not see that I was completely into you? I wasn’t your friend, Rian. I would have done anything for you if you’d seen me.”
The low desperate plea in his voice made my breath catch and I turned into his hold.
"We need to start fresh and I—I want to. But I just… can I ask? What happened to you? The name change, the new shell and demeanor. The Rian I knew laughed a lot more."
I ran my hands through my hair. "It's a long story, Ollie. Suffice it to say that I'm not the same girl I was then. What about you? What happened to you?"
"Well, I lost about twelve stone in dead weight. So I'm feeling pretty good."
Max. He was talking about his brother. "How's Tessa? I haven't seen her in years. She was, what, twelve or thirteen when I left?"
"She's all right, yeah. Off to Uni in the fall. She wants to be a doctor. She’s a smart cookie, got a scholarship and everything."
A smile tugged at my lips. "You must be so proud of her."
"I am. You know, better to turn out like me than, well, the alternative."
Neither one of us wanted to talk about the alternative. "Are you sure you don't want coffee with the cookies?" At the shake of his head, I muttered, "I'll just grab some plates for dessert."
From behind me, his voice was low. "Why didn't I ever hear from you again?"
I turned once again, eyes locking on his. There were a million things to say. A million things to do. "I wrote you a letter once or twice. They never made it out of the house. And Dad had a tight hold on my laptop and all that. I don’t really do social media because of his job."
"I tried to find you." His voice was strained as he spoke, as if he was trying to push it out through grinding cement.
Was that true? Or just another trick? "There's a lot of water under the bridge, Ollie."
He closed the space between us. "I looked for you."
I shook my head. That was not the story I'd been told about Oliver. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with that."
He shrugged then shoved his hands in his pockets. "Nothing. I guess I just wanted you to know." He was silent for another beat and then asked, “Did you plan on ever looking me up once you were back?”
I knew there was a right answer to this question. One where I stopped him, where I pulled away and told him I just wanted to focus on work. That I wasn't interested in getting personal. One where I wouldn't have this confusing version of two Ollies, where I would be safe and protected and not hurt.
Except, the part of my brain that knew the right thing to say wasn't in charge right now. The part of my brain that was in charge of the lady parts had fired to life, and she wanted Ollie closer.
He leaned in close and I could smell his aftershave, sandalwood and spices. Delicious. And I had to fight the urge to lean in and sniff deep. As it turned out, he was the one who took a deep sniff. He ran his nose along the column of my neck and I shuddered. "W-w-what are you doing?"
"You think I didn't notice you inhaled just now? I like how you smell too, Rian."
I lifted my chin. "I did no such thing."
"Liar." He leaned closer to me again. "You're just as stubborn as you were then.”
He was right. I was a liar. A fraud. And he could see right through me.
He was so close now, only inches separating us. In the span of a breath, we stood on the precipice, caught between self-preservation and self-destruction. Twice now, we’d let the pull of the past tip us into dangerous territory. And the best thing to do would be to walk away. Except, at the end of that long breath, I was still Rian Cooke, wanting the Wexler boy I couldn’t have.
“Are you going to run, Rian?”
He was giving me an out. One I should take. Except… I couldn’t. “No, Ollie. I’m not running.”
With a low growl, he slammed his lips over mine, and I forgot how to breathe.
He shoved his hands in my hair and delved his tongue inside my mouth, licking inside, determined to find out every single one of my secrets. Someone somewhere was making a whimpering sound. A desperate crying sound that screamed, 'I need something.' It took me a full second to realize it was me as he demanded a response.
When I tentatively stroked his tongue with mine, he groaned and then pressed his whole body against me. And I could feel everything. From ribcage to the abdomen, to… Oh fuck, was that his dick?
Steel pumped and throbbed against my belly. And Ollie kept kissing me.
Full on. The way his tongue danced with mine was like we were in bed naked, with nothing between us, sensual, demanding, coaxing, nothing soft or gentle. Just a demand and an answer.
He reached his hands down and cupped my ass, lifting me so that his dick would be right at my core. All I could do was moan into his kiss and work my hips so that he was pressed just in the right spot.
He slammed a hand over my head against the wall as he dragged his lips from mine. "Fuck me."
What I meant to say was, No way. Also, perhaps, Let go of me. And then maybe, for good measure, Stop kissing me.
Except, as much as I thought those words, somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind, my libido had taken over full conscious thought. And all I was thinking was, Oh fuck, yes. Right there. Right fucking there.
Ollie's kisses were bruising, commanding. There was a clash of tongues and teeth, a co-mingling of breaths, guttural grunts and moans, and a low growl as he slid one hand from my ass and slipped it up under my blouse. When he skipped it up and palmed my breast, I arched my back and cried out into his mouth. "Oh my God."
It wasn't coherent. I knew that much. But he seemed to understand because he started to swivel his hips.
And I could feel it, the impending orgasm. That train was barreling down on me and I was helpless to stop it. Ollie Wexler knew how to make me feel like that.
And then he was tugging my hair back, making me arch my neck as his mouth trailed over my cheek, my jaw, my neck. "Fuck. Fuck me," he ground out.
My only answer was, "Oh God, Ollie."
His hand dug deeper into my ass, massaging now. I would have bruises tomorrow, and all I wanted was for him to leave bigger ones, darker ones that would not be mistaken. I swiveled my hips once more up and down. And then his hand was back in my hair. There was more growling and nipping at my bottom lip. His hand fisted in my hair, forcefully angling my head to give him better access to my neck.
As he trailed kisses and nips along my throat, he growled out, “Why do you taste so good?”
He sounded like he hated that fact. But the fact that his body shuddered against mine said it all. He was caught in the same loop I was. The lust, the need, the desperation. Notching his hips and grinding against me. And it felt like fucking heaven.
He rolled his hips again, and the both of us shuddered. I grasped at his shoulders and tried to climb him, desperate to be closer, to get more of that delicious grind.
“Fuuuuck, Rian.”
This was a bad idea. I knew it. But I couldn’t get close enough. “Ollie, I just… please…”
He growled low, notching his hips again, and I knew what was coming. I couldn’t wait. I arched into it, wanting more, needing more. And then the vibration started.
I stilled, but he kept kissing me. Kept abrading my skin with his teeth. The buzzing continued.
He finally stilled, and all I could hear in the tense silence was our harsh breaths ripping out of our lungs and the insistent bzzz, bzzz, bzzz.
With a curse, he pulled away from me, set me down and turned around yanking his phone out of his pocket. “What?” There was a moment of silence. “Tessa? Are you okay?”
Saved by the buzz. Why did this keep happening with him? I didn’t
even like him.
Lies.
Okay, I liked how he kissed. But that was beside the point.
He spoke in hushed tones. When he was done, he turned back to me. “I have to go. Something’s up with Tessa.”
“I—okay. Do you need help? Is she okay?”
“I dunno. She had shitty reception. I need to call her back.”
Which meant he was leaving. My body screamed at that. I was going to be here… frustrated. So my vibrator, which I’d finally found when I finished unpacking, was going to get a workout. “I hope she’s okay.”
His hard gaze pinned on me. “We need to talk about this later.”
Show no emotion. Bury it. “It’s not important right now. Tessa’s the important thing.”
His gaze searched mine, but I gave nothing away. I was a master at that by now. If you showed emotion, people would use that against you. You’d be giving them ammo. So even though I was confused as hell about our kisses, I was going to bury it. I had a focus and Oliver wasn’t it.
“Rian…”
“Go. Tessa clearly needs you.” I walked him out, knowing full well that well into the night when I couldn't sleep, I’d be dreaming of being kissed and dry-humped by Ollie Wexler.
Twelve
Oliver
That was unexpected.
I certainly hadn’t planned on it. Not the soft feel of her lips, not the whimpering sounds she made in the back of her throat, not the way she had of turning my dick to steel.
As soon as I stumbled out of Rian’s flat, I called Tessa. She answered on the first ring. “Ollie.”
“Love, what’s wrong?”
“Bloody Xavier. He wants to go on a break. Can you believe that bullshit?” At least I thought the last word was bullshit. It sounded more like ‘bullshhh,’ as her words were slurring.
“Fucking hell. I’m sorry Tess.” I’d never liked Xavier. He was a blighter who drank too much and seemed to have no direction for his life while simultaneously mocking her because she did. I’d threatened to kill him once. I was kidding of course…mostly. “That is utter bullshit. Do you want me to come up to school. Take you out next weekend. We’ll have some pints.”
“I have beer you know that.”
My lips quirked into a smile. “You know full well I meant blueberry crumble surprise.” It was her favorite ice-cream.
I could almost hear her smile. “God I love you, Ollie.”
“And I love you. Honestly though. You shouldn’t be alone. What’s that girl’s name. The wild one who is always threatening to cut someone’s balls off? Maybe call her. But you know, don’t let her carry out any of her plans. Don’t want you in the nick.”
She chuckled then. “She’s on her way here already. Sorry I called in such a panic. I just—wasn’t sure what to do. And I knew you’d make me feel better.”
“What are big brother’s for?”
When I hung up with her, she sounded better. I also knew that by next weekend, she’d already ditch me for cooler plans. But I’d plan a trip to see her at Uni anyway. With the question of Tessa’s crisis handled, my brain inconveniently refocused on my problem. Bloody Rian.
Okay fine, I did know to prepare for that. Three times now, I’d fucked up. I’d completely lost my shit with her. Forgotten what the fuck I was supposed to be doing and kissed her.
No, not just three times. Don’t forget the first time.
God, the first time I’d been trying to keep her arse alive. All that bloody spring and summer, I’d prayed for her to break up with my brother. Like I’d never prayed before in my life. Wished her away. Wished she’d come to her senses. Wished she had parents or family that gave a fuck where she went every night.
She’d had an aunt who cared, but her aunt had been a free-spirit type and thought it was good for her to get out and explore. But I’d been fooling myself. From the moment that Max met her at the Notting Hill fair, he’d been determined to have her. And from the moment I’d met her just a few minutes after he had, I’d been determined that he not have her.
Max was the shiny charismatic brother. People wanted to be in his orbit, and he milked that for all it was worth. I’d hoped I could be hostile enough to make hanging out overall an unpleasant experience for her. It hadn't worked. And when I’d found out Max was using her to case establishments, I’d tried to make sure she found him with other girls.
All of that shit had backfired.
And then of course I worried about the other thing. Max was casually cruel on a good day. But he took pleasure in hurting people. Maybe not with his own hands, but he liked making other people hurt people. He had a way of finding your weak point and exploiting the fuck out of it. And then when you were vulnerable, he twisted the knife. Made you feel like you had no choice. Nowhere to turn. People got hurt.
But in the end. She’d broken away on her own. And Max being Max, he’d shown zero interest in her well-being. When I’d gone after her that night, I’d just been so raw with fury I hadn't been thinking. I hadn’t considered my brother and what he would do to retaliate.
Maybe he’d seen me pick her up and give her a ride. Maybe he’d known all along about the feelings I buried deep. Max had been a master at manipulation because he studied his targets.
At any rate, he’d tried to make her pay for my betrayal. It had backfired. But then she’d run. Not that I blamed her, but it had hurt. The way she’d left and hadn't looked back. I kept trying to tell myself that at least she was safe. That her safety was all that had mattered. But then she’d shown up here again five years later as if nothing had happened. Right under my nose.
Every single time I tried to take a step away from Rian, I only ended up being pulled closer, pulled in, pulled under.
I scrubbed a hand over my face. I needed to get home to Tessa. She hadn’t headed back to campus for some reason. She’d sounded upset. Even if it was girl shit, I didn't care. She was my sister and she needed me.
Unfortunately, my cock didn't feel the same way.
Jesus Christ, we were this close.
Despite what my dick wanted, I did have half a brain. Starting something with Rian was fucked up, a bad idea. Especially with Max skulking around. That was just a wound that was going to open and fester and bubble over. And my brother had already proven once that he was vindictive and cold and absolutely without a heart. I didn't give a fuck what happened to Rian, but if there was blow back on Tessa, I would never forgive myself.
Bullshit, you 100% care what happens to Rian.
I wondered how much of what she said was true. About thinking that I'd betrayed her instead of having been the one to set her free.
Was it possible?
Anything was possible. If her father had anything to do with it, it was entirely possible. All it took was a lawyer given instructions not to tell her. And I already knew that there was one letter she probably never received. So knowing what was plausible, knowing that she hadn't just left, knowing that she had looked for me could change everything.
Did it though? It had been five years. Max was still a problem. And if Max had any inclination that Rian was back, if there could be potential payback waiting for him, he wouldn't let it go. He wouldn't let her disappear into the night, and he wouldn't stop until he was satisfied. And it would be bad for her, for me, and for Tessa.
I quickly checked for cars and jogged across the street, headed toward Rock Fall Station. But as I passed an alley, my instincts howled, and I paused my footing. Double-checking my surroundings, listening to the hairs standing up on the back of my neck. Something was wrong.
What was it?
I whirled just in time to see a fist come for my face.
Raising my left arm in a bent position up to cover my ear, I managed to block it, but in my haste to cover that part of my face, I left the back of my neck exposed and caught a hit that sent me dizzying in a spiral.
Holy fuck.
I blinked rapidly. Fuck, there were two of them.
Focus. Get y
our bearings.
My vision going blurry, I tried to get ahold of myself, tried to get my vision to clear, but it was no use. As soon as I had both of them in my sights, ready to plant my feet and dig into the assailant with an arm bar at his trachea, there was a third. I felt a kidney shot, and a pain that wound through my body that made me howl.
I knew, this wasn't some random group of thugs, who’d come for me. So the question was who had sent them. And why?
It didn't take long until one of them leaned forward. "You're Ollie Wexler, right, mate?"
Even though I was sprawled on the ground, trying to push myself up like a moron because any wise man would have stayed down, I growled up at him, "I'm not your mate, dickweed."
He grinned down at me. "Rome sends his love to your sister."
I frowned. "Rome?" Rome DuPont, a Haitian gangster, had taken over some of the old Peckham gangs. I knew him by reputation alone. I'd never met him. I had no reason to meet him. "I don't know Rome."
"Well Rome knows you. And he knows Max. Your brother's into him for a million quid, and Rome wants his money. So either you pay, or he pays; Rome doesn't care. But if one of you doesn't pay, your sister, she's not going to make it."
The rage pouring into my blood was what had me on my knees one foot leveraged under to push me up. Ready to go again.
And then I got hit in the kidney again because I wasn't paying bloody attention.
Fuck.
"Or, as an alternative, you can do Rome a favor. See, your brother let it be known that you work for the fancy London Lords. Colton Cox has an event coming up. You're going to steal his phone for us."
"Colton Cox? The financier? How the fuck am I supposed to do that?"
"Does that sound like our problem? It's either that or you pay a million quid, or your little sister… Well, we'll have fun with her before we're done."
