Chapter 6: Olive's POV

Chapter 6: Olive's POV

OLIVE

His hands were on my hips.

Firm. Possessive. Fingers digging into my skin hard enough to leave marks.

I was pressed against something cold. A wall, maybe. Glass. I couldn't tell. I Didn't care.

Because his mouth was on my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below my ear, and I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.

"You should've said yes," he murmured against my skin.

His voice. God, his voice.

Deep and rough and doing things to me that should be illegal.

"I don't—" I tried to speak, but his hand slid up my thigh, pushing my dress higher, and the words died in my throat.

"You don't what?" His lips curved against my neck. I could feel him smiling. "You don't want this?"

His fingers brushed the edge of my underwear, feeling my wetness, the softness of my heat.

I gasped. My voice caught hard in my throat, unable to speak.

"That's what I thought."

He pulled back just enough to look at me. Those blue eyes dark. Hungry.

"Tell me you want this, Olive."

"I—"

His thumb pressed exactly where I needed it. Deep. Hard. Circling.

My head fell back. A moan ripped from my throat.

"Say it."

"I want—"

He pressed harder. Circled again against my clit.

"Please—"

"Good girl."

And then his mouth was on mine. Hot. Demanding and consuming me completely.

I was so close. Right there. Right on the edge—

******

I woke up gasping, breath coming out hollow like I'd just run a marathon.

Sweaty. Tangled in sheets. Heart pounding so hard I thought it might break through my ribs.

And wet.

So fucking wet it was embarrassing.

"No. No, no, no."

I pressed my palms against my face. Groaned into the darkness of my suite.

A dream.

It was just a dream.

A very vivid. Very detailed. Very real-feeling dream.

About Zane Mercer.

The man I'd rejected three days ago.

"Fuck."

I threw the covers off. Sat up. My tank top was drenched with sweat, clinging to my skin. My thighs pressed together instinctively, trying to ease the ache that wouldn't go away.

This was bad.

So bad.

I'd been locked in this suite for three days. Three days of hiding. Avoiding everyone. Avoiding Hunter. Avoiding the possibility of running into Cole. Avoiding any chance of seeing Zane.

And apparently, my subconscious decided avoidance wasn't working.

Because now I was having wet dreams about him.

About his hands. His mouth. His voice saying things that made my entire body light up.

"Good girl."

I shivered.

Stop. Stop thinking about it.

I grabbed my phone off the nightstand. The screen lit up.

7:14 AM

And beneath the time, notifications I'd been ignoring for days.

- Texts from Brenda asking if I was okay.

- A missed call from my mother.

- And one message that made my stomach twist.

The blocked number. The one I'd blocked three days ago.

But I could still see the preview from before I blocked it.

Three days, Olive. That's how long my offer stands.

Three days.

Today was day three.

His offer expired today. Maybe by noon.

I stared at the message. At those words that had been playing on loop in my head for more than sixty hours straight.

‘Date me. Be my partner. Make Cole regret everything.’

Part of me—a stupid, reckless part—wanted to unblock the number. Wanted to call him. Wanted to say I'd changed my mind.

But I didn't.

Because I'd made my choice.

I wasn't going to be used. Not by Cole. Not by Zane. Not by anyone.

Even if my body was currently screaming at me that I'd made the wrong decision.

I stood up. My legs were shaky, and I headed for the bathroom.

A cold shower. That's what I needed. A very cold shower to wash away the dream and the ache and the lingering feeling of his hands on my skin.

By the time I got out, it was past seven-thirty.

The suite was quiet. My parents were probably still asleep. Thank God.

The last thing I needed was my mother's morning cheerfulness or Grayson walking around in his boxers with his—

I stopped that thought immediately.

One thing I'd learned living above my parents' garage: Grayson was ‘very comfortable’ in his own home. And my mother was very loud about why she'd married him.

Some things you couldn't unhear.

I pulled on an oversized hoodie and leggings. Threw my hair up in a ponytail. No makeup. No effort.

I just needed air. Coffee. Something to clear my head before tomorrow's game.

Tomorrow.

Hunter's first big game with the Chicago Wolves.

The whole reason I was even in this godforsaken city.

"Fuck, I can't wait to get back to work and forget my life just shifted off its axis," I muttered to myself.

I grabbed my phone and key card. Slipped out of my room as quietly as possible.

The hallway was empty. Good.

I made it three steps toward the elevator before I heard it.

"Sneaking out?"

I froze. Turned slowly.

Hunter stood in the doorway of the main suite, arms crossed, with that cocky smirk on his face that made me want to punch him.

"Jesus Christ, Hunter. You scared the shit out of me."

"Is that how you greet your stepbrother after avoiding him for three days?"

I glared. "I wasn't avoiding you."

"Right. You just happened to be locked in your room the entire time we've been here."

"I needed space."

"From what? Me?" He stepped into the hallway. "Or from someone else?"

My stomach tightened. "From someone else? You tell me, Hunter. Who do you think I'm hiding from?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He was too close now. Close enough that I could see something in his expression. Guilt? Concern?

I huffed hard. Of course, he'd deny it. Act like he was never part of Zane's master plan.

"You sold me out. Why?"

I could see recognition cross his face. His expression shifted.

"I'm sorry, Olive. I had no choice."

He muttered it quietly. Concern. Guilt. All those expressions I didn't want to see.

"You fucking sold me out, and do what? You just apologize? Do you know the mess you caused?"

My voice was rising. Almost a yell. And fuck it, I didn't care if anyone was listening.

"I said I was sorry, Olive. I really am. Did he—did he hurt you?"

I glared at him. The audacity to ask how I was feeling after ruining my life. Or maybe he was part of the ruin. Involved somehow. But I just stared hard at him.

The only thing I could say was:

"Move, Hunter."

"Olive—"

"I said move." I shoved past him. "I need coffee before I lose my mind or throw you off the balcony."

"Hey." He grabbed my arm. Gently. "I'm sorry. Are you okay? Did that bastard hurt you?"

I yanked free. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"Well, I am. So back off." My voice shook. "And don't you dare play games with me ever again. I don't know what your deal with Zane is, but don't you dare involve me again."

He held up his hands. "Alright. Alright. Just... be careful, okay?"

"Careful of what?"

His jaw tightened. "Just... don't do anything stupid."

I stared at him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Forget it."

"Hunter—"

"Go get your coffee, Olive." He stepped back into the suite. "And for the record? Cole doesn't know you're here. I didn't tell him. So you can stop looking over your shoulder like he's going to jump out of a corner."

The door closed before I could respond.

I stood there for a moment. Fists clenched.

What the hell was that about?

‘Don't do anything stupid?’

‘Cole doesn't know you're here?’

Why would Hunter—

My phone suddenly buzzed, and I pulled it out.

It was a text from Brenda.

BRENDA: ‘You alive? Or do I need to file a missing person report?’

I typed back quickly.

ME: ‘Alive. Barely. Going to get coffee.’

BRENDA: ‘At 7:30 AM? Who are you and what did you do with my best friend?’

ME: ‘Couldn't sleep.’

BRENDA: ‘Bet I know why. Starts with Z. Ends with …ane Mercer.’

I almost threw my phone.

ME: ‘I'm blocking you too.’

BRENDA: ‘You love me. Now go get your coffee and stop spiraling. Today's a new day. Fresh start and all that bullshit.’

ME: ‘Motivational speeches aren't your thing.’

BRENDA: ‘I know. I'm trying something new. How's it working?’

ME: ‘Terribly.’

BRENDA: ‘Good. That's more on brand. Love you. Text me later.’

I shoved my phone in my pocket and headed for the elevator.

Fresh start.

Right.

Today was day three.

Zane's offer expired at noon.

Not that I cared.

Not that I was counting.