Chapter 13

Grace

I wake up slowly, feeling comfortable and warm and lazy.

The mattress beneath me is decadently soft, the pillow against my head huge and fluffy with a smooth, silk covering, and I flutter my eyes open to stare at the bright shaft of sunlight slicing across the ceiling.

I'm naked in Oli's bed, and I can hear him breathing deeply beside me, still peacefully asleep. I roll onto my side, languidly gazing along the planes of his equally naked brown body, with the sheets tangled around his ankles. He's on his stomach, one leg bent up, and one big arm shoved under his pillow, squishing it to his cheek and making the soft lips on his slightly elongated muzzle squish up cutely.

The planes of his strong back are highlighted by the shadows cast in the early morning sun, his round, velvet ass pert and biteable, and I grin as I imagine his reaction if I were to bite him awake. Judging by our enthusiastic shenanigans last night on the kitchen bench, then in the living room, then in the shower, I get the feeling there isn't anything I could do that he wouldn't like. I reach out a hand to smooth down the short fur along his back and over that round tush of his and feel a wave of affection wash through me as I consider the merits of snuggling into his side and going back to sleep. And then my grin falters.

Oh. Huh.

That's not a good sign.

I roll onto my back again, lips pursed, and my good mood dims. Wave of affection, huh, Grace? What's next, holding hands? Ridiculous pet names? Jealousy over other women?

And then I throw my hands over my face, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes to hold back a dismayed groan. Great, all of that has already happened.

Shit, shit, shit, I knew I was like this and still, for some reason, I threw caution to the wind last night and let myself get carried away with the world's most charming playboy.

God, if you're up there, I am not your strongest soldier. Please, stop sending me your most irresistible battles.

I swing my legs off the bed and sit up, trying to keep as quiet as possible. It's fine. Everything's fine. It was only one night, and that's all it ever has to be. Things haven't gone too far, I can still pack this all away and continue on as if nothing has changed, so long as I don't get anywhere near that amazing, incredible

knot of his that does unspeakably delicious things when he—

I stand abruptly. Nope! None of that.

"Morning, beautiful." Oli's voice is deep and husky with sleep, and I bite my lip as the mere sound of it sends a flutter through my stomach.

"Morning," I reply without looking back, instead searching the room as if I'm going to find my clothes in here, even though we took them off way before we made it to the bedroom last night.

"Lie back down." I hear him shifting around on the bed, and now I definitely can't look at him in case he's flipped over to display his gorgeous… front side. "It's early on a Saturday morning, we don't have to get up yet."

I spot the ensuite and make my way over. "I should probably head back to Lucas," I say, still not looking over at him. "He doesn't really spend time away from me."

"All the more reason to give yourself a break. Why don't I take you for breakfast?"

I pause at the doorframe, because my son is a good boy, but his never-ending energy is certainly a handful. And breakfast is a safe activity. Right?

I finally turn back to look at Oli, and I'm hit in the face with his Adonis body—thick, chiseled pecks, sculpted six pack, and that god-gifted pole between his legs, which is half-hard with morning wood and laying enticingly against one strong thigh.

"God, you're handsome…" I sigh forlornly, and his mega-watt grin at my admission practically lights up the room, making him doubly attractive.

"Says the Aphrodite standing in my bedroom," he murmurs, and the way his eyes trace over my bare skin sends a shiver down my spine. "Come here."

I take one step towards him, before frowning and turning on my heel. Jesus, Grace, get a grip, you little hussy!

"Breakfast," I cry as I head for the toilet. "Let's just go for breakfast."

***

We park on a side street and stroll towards the Silver Spoon, a quaint little diner I've been to a few times with Ella, whose obnoxiously loud troll chef serves the most homey and incredibly comforting food. I'm still in my heels and the gorgeous dress Oli bought me, but the temperature is dipping so he lent me a cashmere pullover to wear on top, which has the added benefit of almost entirely covering the clearly evening dress I'm wearing beneath, since the man it belongs to is so much bigger than me.

Despite the cooling weather the skies are blue and the sun is bright, and as we turn the corner I catch sight of Brad with a take-away coffee in his hand, walking on the other side of the street, and my brain blanks out for a second.

Is it odd that I'd almost forgotten about him?

Quickly, I slip my hand in Olistaire's big palm, and lean my body against his side. Stupendously incredible sex or not, I still need this man to help me get rid of my little problem.

Olistaire turns to look at me with a smile, squeezing my fingers in his. "Hello."

"Brad's here," I tell him, widening my eyes as I dart them deliberately across the street. "Act natural."

"Ah." His gaze follows mine, and he doesn't say anything else as we walk.

"What's he even doing here," I mutter, sending a few more surreptitious glances his way to see if he's spotted us yet. "He's barely ever up before ten."

"The town's only bed and breakfast is nearby," Oli replies, offering no further elaboration, and I nod. Is that why he brought us here? To help me with Brad, so that we'd be spotted? That seems smart, I think, and shove away my disappointment at the idea that his spontaneous invitation had an alternate motive. He's being thoughtful. Relax, Grace.

The Silver Spoon comes up before us, it's rustic brick facade and red-and-white striped canvas awnings looking cute in the sunlight. There are a few outdoor seats with striped umbrellas dotted around, and I tug Oli over to one, still glancing at Brad, who's stopped just opposite us.

"Kiss me," I say, watching Brad stand with his head bent as he types into his phone, and I move into the solid chest before me. "Quick."

"Look at me."

"Hm?" Why won't Brad just turn over here already?

"Grace." Two warm fingers press just under my chin and turn my face. Oli's gazing down at me with a lightly creased brow, and the warm morning light makes his chocolate eyes look like they're glowing. He slips those fingers along my jaw until his palm rests on my cheek, and he tips forward, his expression intent as if he's trying to unravel some sort of secret.

I blink as I stare at him, suddenly caught in his gaze. A slow warmth begins to curl low through my stomach when his other hand settles gently at my waist, and now I'm staring at his lips. Of their own volition my hands find his narrow hips, and when I tug him closer his expression softens, and he smiles.

Aaaand none of that.

I turn my face quickly away, looking towards the diner again just to break the addictive, hypnotizing eye-contact I was falling into, and notice through the reflective glass windows that Brad's phone is down and his body turned towards us, finally. Great. Excellent. Got what I needed.

Time to stop pawing at the Greek God in my arms before I fall on his knot again.

"Actually, let's sit inside," I say awkwardly, disentangling myself and turning for the doors.

We're quickly seated at a booth near the entrance, with two coffees before us and our orders taken by the purple-skinned waitress that's always here, and Oli remains uncharacteristically quite through the whole thing. The hum of the diner and the incredibly loud shouts of the troll at the kitchen pass wash over us, and I take an awkward gulp of my coffee as the waitress finishes setting us up.

Once we're left alone, Oli rests an elbow on the table and begins absently twisting the rim of his mug back and forth as he gazes at me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" I smile brightly, and grab at my own drink again. "Great coffee this morning. Really… brew-y."

He lets go of his mug and reaches over to slip his fingers into my free hand. "Grace, did I do something wrong?"

I sigh and drop the pretense. "No."

"At the jazz bar," he continues quietly, brows once more drawn, "should I not have—"

"Shhh," I say, letting go of his hand to cover his mouth with my fingers, as flashes of me curled on his lap while he fingered me publicly whirl intensely through my mind's eye, and I flush. "Shush,

none of that."

His brows raise, and a spark of amusement flashes across his face as he looks at my undoubtedly pink cheeks.

He trails a finger up the back of my hand, before gently removing it from his lips. "What about when I set the shower head to vibrate and—"

"Oli!" I squeak, feeling my cheeks heat even further. "Seriously . No more. We can't do any more of that ever again."

His smile fades, and when I pull my hand from his, he lets his own fall to the table.

"It's just… Alright, look." I clear my throat and lean back. "I don't want to hurt your feelings because you're an incredible lover, and I'm seriously fighting myself with this decision right now—which you're not

helping with, by the way, so stop being so attractive and seductive, please."

He huffs lightly, but his eyes don't warm with their usual good humor.

"I can't sleep with you again, because I'm going to get attached to you and then you'll break my heart, whether you mean to or not."

He blinks and looks down at the table. "I see."

"I'm not saying you have or will do anything wrong," I reiterate, already fighting with myself from crossing to his side of the table and sitting in his lap until that look on his face brightens once more. "But I… I can't do casual. You've made your stance clear, and I respect that. Fair enough, you know? Everybody's got to do what's right for them, and you've never once tried to mislead me. But I don't want to lead myself into a situation I know I can't handle just because you have a magic cock, it's not fair to me or to you. I like you a lot, and I don't want to lose your friendship."

His heavy brows crease, and his horns tip up as he looks back at me. "Don't get me wrong," he says carefully, quietly. "I'm not trying to pressure you, but… why can't we have both? Friendship, and

incredible, life-changing sex? Don't you deserve to have some fun, too, after everything you've been through?"

His lips quirk up lopsidedly, and I roll my eyes in good humor. "Oh, so it's all for my own good, is it?"

His eyes sparkle as his grin widens slightly. "Of course. I'm a generous male, after all."

I snort. "Well, you definitely are that."

"I'll look after you, Grace. And when you're ready, we can part ways on good terms."

"How many women have you been with?" I ask seemingly out of the blue. "Dozens? Hundreds?" Slowly, one big shoulder shrugs, and I sigh. "See, that's an answer all on its own. You've slept with so many people you've stopped counting."

Something about him seems to wince, even though he doesn't move, and I lean forward and grab his hand again. "I'm not judging you, Oli. Your history doesn't bother me, but…" I try to formulate the words I need to express myself. "But I've been with four people total, in my entire lifetime. All of them long term relationships, and three out of four ended with me being betrayed. The first was just a run-of-the-mill cheating, I came home early from university one day to find him in bed with my roommate. The second time, I'd been in a relationship for eight years, engaged for three, when I was suddenly dumped in my first trimester of pregnancy. I later found out he up and left the country with his new girlfriend, who I suspect is a ladyboy, by the way. So I guess he must be happy in Thailand… That's when Brad found me. And he's been cheating on me for a year, though I'm starting to think it's been longer."

Oli's eyes are on me, I sigh and continue.

"Of those three men, I knew I was being played long before the relationships ended. I sat there and tried to make it work long past its expiry date, and it's because I find it difficult to let go. My heart is too… sentimental? Weak? I don't know, but it won't listen to reason. And I'm not here to try and trick you into a relationship or force you to give me more than you can, either. I don't want to be a Sera."

His gaze on mine is once more searching, intent and intimate. "You could never be like that female. You're too good-hearted."

I smile, feeling my chest warm at how sweet he is even in the face of his disappointment, and I squeeze his hand still in mine. It's a shame he's so intent on remaining single, because I'm starting to think he'd make an excellent partner.

The bell beside us chimes as the door opens, breaking our moment, and I hear a faint gasp behind me as Oli's eyes dart suddenly to the side in surprise.

"S-sir?"

I look over to see a bright red snake-lady in the doorway, shock on her face as her eyes dart from Oli, to me, to our joined hands.

"Isha," Oli says, offering a faint smile. "Nice to see you here this morning."

"I—yes, it's…" Her words trail away, and when her eyes move back to our joined hands, I notice them fill with tears. She turns away. "Oh, I just remembered… I have to… I'll see you in the office on Monday, sir. Bye."

And she slides out before anyone can say another word.

I look back at Oli, who has a slightly guilty expression. "I haven't slept with her," he says quietly.

"But she's still in love with you," I counter. "See? What chance do I have? I'll be worshiping you in a week. You want me hinting that you should buy me a ring? Hmm?"

He chuckles, but won't meet my eyes.

"You want me picking out baby cradles and asking when we'll buy a house and a dog and… changing my relationship status on Facebook?"

His fingers tighten around mine but he doesn't respond, or look back up, and I squeeze back and will my heart to stop fluttering at the feel of my hand cradled within his big warm palm. I let go now, while I still can.

"This is for the best. You'll be back out there finding somebody else to be crazy kinky with in no time."

Shut it, heart, I tell myself firmly as jealousy immediately flares within me. This is for the best.

I pull away, grabbing my coffee so that I don't grab his hand again. I feel much less confident about all this than my blasé words might suggest, but I try to keep it off my face as he leans back as well, rubbing absently at his wrist, right at the missing tuft of fur where I scratched him the other day.

"Whatever you want, princess," he says, but his usual warm tone is flat.

"We can still work together to get rid of our exes, right?" I ask, and it's not

because I don't want to lose all the extra time I've been spending with him lately. It's most definitely not. It's simply about Brad. And Sera.

He smiles and finally looks back at me. "Whatever you want."

"Alright." I nod. "Good. Excellent. And don't be awkward. I know I'm a once-in-a-lifetime catch, but you're just going to have to learn to live without me." I try to joke it off, and he chuckles, his eyes softening as he looks down at his mug again.

"You certainly are."

My heart makes a little tug, tug in my chest at those words, said so sincerely, and I firmly tell myself to stop being silly and sentimental. He means it objectively, as a friend who wants the best for another friend, and I can't go adding my own interpretations to his words.

Jesus, this is exactly why I never should have let my defenses down with him in the first place. I'll just have to work to keep my guard up from now on. We'll go back to normal soon enough.