Mag-log inAs Oliver move to the coffee table to set down the tray, Harper stirred. A pained groan escaped her lips and her hand moved to her forehead. The sound of her groan makes his heart squeeze. He immediately sets the tray down and moved to the edge of the bed, sitting beside her. “Morning, headache,” he says softly, his voice warm and devoid of any office-ready sharpness. He reaches out, pressing the back of his hand gently against her forehead to check or a fever, though he knows it
Harper followed Oliver out of the shower. “You know I have spent so much time here; I think I might need to get a toothbrush. And a drawer or two,” she said with a hint of amusement lacing her tone. The suggestion hits Oliver with the force of a freight train, but he keeps his expression carefully neutral. He is already drying his black hair with a towel, but his hands pause for a fraction of a second. A toothbrush. A drawer. That is not just a visit, that is moving in. he looks at her, really looks at her– damp, glowing, and looking entirely too comfortable in his space. The thought of her things scattered throughout his perfectly organized apartment, of her toothbrush sitting next to his in the bathroom, sends a surge of possessive warmth through him that he can’t quite suppress. “A toothbrush and a drawer,” he repeats slowly, a small, dangerous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That sounds like a very significant commitment, Harp
Oliver’s movements are powerful and rhythmic, each thrust driving him deeper into Harper. He grips her hips with bruising force, his knuckles white, anchoring her to him as the steam swirls around them. “Harper,” he groans, her name sounding like both a plea and a vow. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, his breath hot and ragged against her skin.“You… you really are… and angel,” Harper muttered between a ragged breath and a moan. The compliment, delivered in that broken, breathless way, is the final nail in the coffin of Oliver’s self-control. A low, triumphant growl escapes him as he increases the pace, his body working with a primal relentless energy. “If I am an angel,” he rasps against her skin, his voice thick with desire. “The you are my heaven.” The shower becomes a blur of heat and sensation. The water beats against them, washing away everything but the feeling of her body wrapped aro
“Time’s up.” Oliver said once the temperature was right, thought his tone was anything but strict. He rolled his shoulders, ran a hand through his messy black hair and glanced briefly toward the door, waiting for Harper to appear. He took the towel from the vanity and hung it over the nearby rail, making sure it would be ready when he finished. Harper walked into the bathroom, naked and unashamed. “Did you miss me?” she asked teasingly.The sight of her, completely unashamed and glowing in the steam, makes his breath hitch. He closes the distance between them in two long strides, his hands finding her waist and pulling her flush against him. “You have no idea,” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. He kisses her deeply, a slow, possessive claim that tastes of coffee and morning warmth. The shower is already running hot, the steam curling around them like a veil. They both stepped into the glass enclosure, pulling the glass door ge
As Oliver move to the coffee table to set down the tray, Harper stirred. A pained groan escaped her lips and her hand moved to her forehead. The sound of her groan makes his heart squeeze. He immediately sets the tray down and moved to the edge of the bed, sitting beside her. “Morning, headache,” he says softly, his voice warm and devoid of any office-ready sharpness. He reaches out, pressing the back of his hand gently against her forehead to check or a fever, though he knows it is just the symptoms of a hangover. He picks up the glass of water from the small wooden tray with one hand and the two aspirin pills with the other, holding them out to her. “Here. Drink this first, then the coffee,” he instructs, his tone gentle but firm– the same way he handles things in his life, even when he is being caring. “I made it exactly how you like it. Two sugars, a splash of milk.” He watches her closely, waiting for her to sit up, his icy blue eyes fi
The morning light filters through the curtains in this, pale strips, illuminating the organized chaos of the bedroom. Oliver’s icy blue eyes open automatically at 6:30 AM– a habit his body refuses to break, even on a Friday. He stays still for a moment, feeling the weight of Harper’s body pressed against his side. Her breathing is deep and even, the kind of sleep that only comes after a long night and a few too many shots. He glanced down at her, his expression softening. Her auburn hair is a mess across the pillow, and there is a faint flush still clinking to her cheeks. He reached out, his fingers barely brushing her shoulder, before pulling back. ‘Friday,’ he thinks. ‘The briefing is at ten and the budget meeting at two.’ He carefully untangles himself from the duvet, moving with practiced precision to avoid waking her. He slips out of bed and crosses the room to his wardrobe, moving with exaggerated care.After opening his wardrob
“But, darling, if brevity’s what ye’re after, ye’ll have tae settle for ‘Knox.’ It’s short, it’s punchy, and it’s impossible tae forget. Much like yer whisky.” Knox gestured to the glass. “So, Mr Practicality. Since ye’ve successfully stripped me o’ my poetic title, what d’ye actually do for a livin’? Or d’ye also just ‘create drama’ as a full-time occupation?”“I spin chaos and logic into functional reality and whisper commands that inanimate metal obeys,” Anders says theatrically with a wink. “But technically I am a computer programmer.” Knox’s mouth dropped open, and for the first time in his life, he was genuinely speechless. He stared at Anders for several long seconds, his brain clearly trying to reconcile the ‘whisperer of metal’ with the reality of a man who sat in front of a glowing screen all day. Then,
Oliver’s eyes widened slightly at her blunt observation, a low chuckle escaping his lips. The sound was rich and unexpected, breaking the usual seriousness, he carried around the office. “In a hurry,” he repeated, his voice laced with amusement. “You are saying my designers need to consider emergen
Oliver’s expression softened further, a rare warmth entering his icy blue eyes. He watched the way her hand instinctively went to her cheek, the nervous gesture only making her more endearing. “Clubbing,” he repeated with a dismissive wave of his hand. “That is what people in their twenties do. The
A small, almost imperceptible smile touched the corner of Oliver’s mouth as she suggested a cafe mocha for tomorrow. The idea of another deviation from his usual black coffee routine seemed to amuse him in a way he rarely allowed himself. “Cafe mocha, huh?” he repeated, his voice losing some of its
Over time Oliver notices Harper’s presence more and more. He notices how she handles her tasks with efficiency and grace. He notices her attention to detail and how skilled she was at organizing. As time went on, his interest in her became less professional, he began to wonder about her dreams and







