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Chapter 199: Only 7:25
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2026-09-26 14:00:14“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, c
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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
Paperwork and Hearthbeats Chapter 199: Only 7:25
“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
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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
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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
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“That is it,” Oliver encouraged against her breast, his voice muffled by the flesh pressed against his lips. “Show me how much you want this.” His free hand moved to cup her other breast, kneading gently while his mouth worked relentlessly on the first. The contrast betwee
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Oliver’s eyes darkened with satisfaction at her admission, a low growl of approval rumbling in his chest. The confession that her nervousness was due to attraction, not fear, sent a wave of possessive heat through him. “Attractive?” he repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You think
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