LOOSING CONTROL

Chapter 29

Lena.

The house had gone quiet again after Oliver went upstairs to check on Helene and Julian. Lena remained in the living room, staring at the open photo albums without really seeing them. The conversation with Oliver kept replaying in her head — the careful warnings, the tension, the way he had looked at her when he asked about Ava.

She eventually forced herself to stand and head toward her room. Sleep felt impossible, but sitting downstairs alone only made the emptiness worse.

She was halfway down the hallway when Oliver’s door opened.

He stood there in the dim light, still wearing the same clothes from earlier, the sling supporting his injured arm. His eyes found hers immediately. For a second neither of them moved.

“I thought you were going to rest,” Lena said quietly.

“I tried.” Oliver’s voice was rough. “Couldn’t.”

He stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him. The space between them felt charged, heavier than it had been downstairs.

“Oliver—”

He didn’t let her finish. In two steps he closed the distance, his good hand sliding into her hair as he pulled her mouth to his. The kiss was nothing like the careful, cautious touches from earlier. It was hungry, almost desperate, like something he had been holding back all day finally snapped.

Lena made a soft sound against his lips and kissed him back just as hard. Her hands gripped the front of his shirt. Oliver pressed her against the wall, his body warm and solid despite the injury. The kiss deepened, tongues meeting, breath mixing. Every careful rule they had talked about downstairs disappeared the moment his mouth claimed hers.

“I’ve been thinking about this since the hospital,” he muttered against her lips, kissing her again before she could answer. “Watching you try so hard with them… knowing they don’t even remember us… it drove me crazy.”

Lena’s fingers curled into his shirt as he kissed down the side of her neck. “Oliver, your arm—”

“I don’t care.”

He guided her backward into his room and shut the door with his good hand. The moment it clicked, he was on her again. Their mouths crashed together, teeth clicking, the kiss messy and urgent. Oliver walked her toward the bed until the backs of her knees hit the mattress. She sank down, and he followed, bracing himself carefully with his uninjured arm as he leaned over her.

The weight of him, the heat of his mouth, the way his hand slid under her shirt — it all felt familiar and new at the same time. The amnesia, the careful conversations, the fragile family downstairs… none of it existed in that moment.

Oliver’s hand moved higher, palm covering her breast over the thin fabric of her bra. Lena arched into the touch, a soft moan escaping as he squeezed. He kissed her harder, swallowing the sound, then pulled back just enough to look at her.

“Tell me to stop if you need to,” he said, voice low and strained.

Lena shook her head. “Don’t stop.”

That was all he needed. He pushed her shirt up and over her head, then unclasped her bra with surprising ease despite only having one fully working hand. His mouth closed over one nipple, tongue circling, while his fingers teased the other. Lena’s hands slid into his hair, holding him there as pleasure sparked through her.

Oliver shifted lower, kissing down her stomach until he reached the waistband of her shorts. He tugged them down along with her underwear in one motion. The cool air of the room touched her bare skin for only a second before his mouth was on her, tongue sliding through her folds with slow, deliberate strokes.

Lena bit her lip hard to keep quiet, her hips lifting toward him. Oliver licked her thoroughly, focusing on her clit with steady pressure until her thighs began to tremble. Two fingers pushed inside her, curling just right, and the combination made her come hard and fast, a muffled cry trapped behind her hand.

He didn’t give her time to recover. Oliver moved back up her body, kissing her deeply so she could taste herself on his tongue. He shoved his own pants down just enough, then guided himself to her entrance. The first slow thrust filled her completely. Both of them groaned into the kiss.

Oliver set a careful but deep rhythm, mindful of his injured arm yet unable to hold back completely. The bed creaked softly beneath them. Lena wrapped her legs around his waist, meeting every thrust, her nails digging into his shoulders.

“Fuck, Lena…” he breathed against her neck. “I needed this. Needed you.”

She could only nod, lost in the feel of him. The tension of the past days, the fear of the amnesia, the careful distance they had tried to maintain — all of it poured into the way their bodies moved together.

Oliver’s pace increased. His good hand gripped her hip, holding her steady as he drove deeper. Lena came again, clenching around him, and the tight pulse of her orgasm pulled him over the edge with her. He buried himself fully and came with a low, broken sound against her shoulder.

For a long moment they stayed like that, breathing hard, bodies still connected. Oliver eventually shifted to the side so he wouldn’t put weight on his injured arm, pulling her with him so she stayed close. Neither of them spoke right away.

Outside the room, the house remained quiet. Helen and Julian were still resting upstairs, unaware of the seven months they had lost… and unaware of what their children had just done only a short distance away.

Oliver’s fingers traced slow patterns along Lena’s bare back.

“We still have to be careful,” he murmured.

Lena rested her forehead against his chest. “I know.”

But neither of them moved to get dressed.