Filed to story: I Slept With My Ex's Father (Olivia & Dylan) Book PDF Free
But Olivia is inside, bent over the stones, no doubt examining why they’re not heating as they should.
I swallow. I know I should make my presence known, but the way she’s bent over, moving back and forth, ass rocking side to side. God, I can’t stop watching. It’s hypnotic.
She stands up, resting her hands on her hips with a heavy sigh. “Stupid fucking thing…”
Okay, Dylan, stop your daydreaming. “Ehem.”
Olivia whips around. “What?”
Her body jolts.
My eyes flick to the floor where her heel has gotten stuck between the wood-paneled floor.
Olivia throws her hands in the air and starts to tumble forward.
And I’m right in the way.
I try to brace myself for impact and make to grab onto the doorframe, but my hand misses, and I fall backward onto the tile floor of the pool deck.
Thank god, I manage to keep my head from hitting the ground, but my back screams out in pain.
“Oh, my god!” Olivia cries out from on top of me. “Are you okay, are you-“
I groan. “I’m alive if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Did you-” She runs her fingers through my hair to the back of my head. “Did you hit your-“
“No, not my head.”
But my fucking back.
Although… maybe I should just lie and say that my head is aching so she keeps touching me. Her fingernails against my scalp are divine.
Olivia drops her forehead to my chest. “Thank god, oh my god. Why’d you sneak up on me like that?”
I’m gritting my teeth. Holding on to my control tooth and nail. “It was an accident.”
I’m trying my best not to get hard, but that’s impossible given the proximity of our pelvises. I’ve dreamed of feeling her this way, pressed up to my front.
I just imagined it would be in private, both of us naked. I guess this will do.
She lifts her head and looks into my eyes, her cheeks bright red. “Um…can I help you with something?”
I know I have a big cock, but it’s not hard enough to be noticeable yet, is it?
She cocks her head when I remain silent. “You were looking for me?”
I shut my eyes for a second. Refocus.
If only we could be having this conversation when she’s not laying on top of me.
What am I supposed to do with my hands when all I can think about is having them sliding down her back to grip the perfect mounds of her ass? I settle for clenching them into fists. “Yes, I have a potential member who I want you to meet.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
Olivia’s lips twist into a smile. As if she’s been told she’s special. Which she is, beyond a shadow of a doubt.
“Uh, so, what’s wrong with the sauna?”
“It’s not hot.”
I’m a fucking idiot.
She looks back at the rocks, then back at me. “I need to call a repairman.”
“Makes sense.”
A male throat clears somewhere nearby. “Everything alright here?”
I jolt upward, shoving Olivia off of me, when I recognize Farley’s voice. “Yep, just…fell.”
Wow, good save, idiot.
He’s standing at the edge of the pool, hands tucked behind his back. “Need some help getting up?” There’s a tone in his voice I don’t like. Not one bit. It’s…suggestive.
Olivia scrambles to her feet. “Here, let me help.” She holds out a hand for me to grab.
I look from her hand to the hem of her skirt, which is at my eye level, and then up to her golden eyes.
“Thanks.” I accept her hand, though I don’t let her do any of the work, pushing myself to stand. I brush off the front of my slacks with a disgruntled sigh.
Farley grins, his eyes shining as if he is holding his laughter in. “I was sent to find you by a man named…Marty Villanueva?”
“Yeah, yeah. Olivia, you go with Farley, I’ll make the call to the repairman.”
Olivia nods, a placid smile on her lips I’d like to make disappear under mine. She goes with Farley, and the two of them leave the pool deck and disappear.
I stand there for far too long with my brow furrowed and hands in my pocket until someone kicks a little too hard during their freestyle stroke and splashes me with pool water, snapping me out of my funk.
Sooner or later, something has to break between Olivia and me, right? We either have to learn to hate each other or give into our instincts or…
My anger flares, thinking about her being taken by another man. It’s not fair of me. But I can’t help it.
She’s young and beautiful. She should date someone Nate’s age. Not me.
However, no amount of logic can contain my want.
After calling the sauna repairman, I retreat to my office and rub out this hard-on she’s given me.
Releasing into my hand, though, is pathetic compared to the real thing.
OLIVIA POV
“I know it’s small…”
Bridget looks around my tiny studio apartment and smiles. It’s a real smile, not a fake one of politeness.
Still, though, I can’t help being embarrassed inviting a woman who comes from so much money into my humble little apartment that is probably half the size of her closet.
“It’s cute. I like it.”
Cute, no doubt, is code for small.
“I’d say sit anywhere you’d like, but there’s only one possible choice,” and it’s the couch against the wall that faces the rest of the apartment so I can look over my domain.
Smoothing out her skirt, Bridget sits on the couch with grace and care that don’t lend themselves to the Facebook marketplace sofa. “And it’s in Queens. I never make it out to Queens.”
“Thanks for making the trek up here, I would have happily come to you if-“
“Please, Olivia, you work way harder than me. It’s the least I can do.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t work harder. It’s just different. I can’t imagine doing what you do.”
“That reminds me, after you crack open the wine, I have some new sketches to show you.” Bridget grins, pulling her portfolio out of her bag.
Since meeting at the Hill masquerade, Bridget and I have become fast friends. I kept her at a distance at first, not wanting to mix business with pleasure further than I had already, but she made it clear that she wanted to be my friend, and if I’m being honest, I can use all the friends I can get in New York.
Other than the club, I don’t have a network. And given how much I work right now, I don’t have the time to join any extracurricular activities. So, I’m grateful for Bridget’s persistence in our budding friendship.
“Oooh, what are you working on?” I grin as I take the two steps that take me into the kitchen and crack open the wine.
“Well, I’ve been really inspired by that new exhibit at the Met. You know, the Vivienne Westwood retrospective. And I want to do something inspired by that but with lingerie.”
I pretend to gasp. “Scandal!”
“I know, who would have thought?!”
Certainly not me. When Bridget told me she was a designer working on starting her own line, I would never have guessed that her focus is in lingerie.
