Forbidden Obsessions (Deviant Desires of Bennington University #2)

Chapter Seven

Tomas

A fter what seems like an eternity of waiting, Olivia reluctantly walks through the front door. Her emerald eyes border on bloodshot, and her hair is disheveled. She looks like I feel—like I haven’t slept in five days.

“Hi,” I offer softly, testing the water. It was a mistake to leave her last night. When I agreed to keep Olivia’s mom’s diagnosis from her, I dug myself into a hole, especially since it means being at their beck and call. Unfortunately, I can’t dig myself out of it until James tells Olivia. I’m hoping that’s today.

“Hi.” She sets her bag down on the floor, fidgeting with her hands awkwardly.

“I’m sorry.” She looks taken aback as I address last night head-on. “It was wrong to ask such a big question without warning, and I was wrong to leave.” She looks at me sheepishly as I move closer. Despite the fact my hands—my entire body, really—aches to touch her, I give her space.

Six months may not be long in the grand scheme of things, but it’s allowed me enough time to know Olivia. When she feels threatened and caged, she retreats in on herself. She wilts like the beautiful wild blooms we just frolicked in under winter’s first blanket of snow.

She sniffs the air. “You smell like Bourbon,” she says, accusatory.

“It was a long night,” I admit.

“Same here. I was worried you would want to break up after how last night transpired,” she says, sheepishly.

“God, no, Olivia. I fucked up. I got caught up in making it the best weekend, and I kept thinking about how much I loved you. It spiraled.” My hands seize her waist, pulling her close. It guts me when I feel her tense under my touch before relaxing marginally.

“You don’t need to go all in to tell me you’re all in, Tomas. If you’re hiding something from me, the truth will come out regardless of our relationship status. The truth always comes out.” Stunned, I blink as her words sink in. She doesn’t fucking trust me.

Wounded, I pull back. “Is that what you think the proposal was, Olivia?” She chews on her bottom lip. “Tell me. Say it verbatim. You don’t trust me,” I bite out, unable to stop myself. I realize how I sound, like a defensive prick. Hell, Julian probably used the same line on her.

“I didn’t say that,” she says sternly, emphasizing each syllable.

“I thought we had established this before, Liv. I know I don’t have to do any of this. I want to. I want to hear your laugh on the bleakest of days, to know we always have each other’s back. I want to wrap my arms around you, to bury my cock inside of you. I thought I had everything figured out, that once I got my lab and made tenure, I’d feel fulfilled. That I finally had a purpose. Now I have it, and I realize it only means so much. You are what matters. Your family matters. Our family. I want to be your husband. Give me time, and you’ll want to be my wife. I’m not walking away. If you want to walk away, now’s your chance, Olivia. I don’t need you to say yes to marriage today, tomorrow, or even next month, but I need you to be honest. Either stop stringing me along and just gut me now, or actively choose to be here. And I need you to tell me right now if you don’t trust me.”

I don’t know when it happened, but I did the very thing I set out not to do. She stares at me wide-eyed, caged between the kitchen and living room door frame.

“Were you with Vanessa last night?” she asks suddenly.

“No.” I can see how she would be concerned about that. It’s been weeks, and we’re no closer to answers about why Vanessa has crawled out of whatever hole she came from.

“Then where were you?” she presses. James is going to tell her soon enough. I may as well use him as an alibi.

“I was with your parents.” Please don’t ask more, Olivia. Just accept it.

“ Why?” Goddamnit, Olivia. I shut my eyes, trying to bite my tongue. I don’t want to be the one to shatter her world. I want to be the one who she feels safe enough to lean on so we can pick up the pieces together.

“Your dad knew I was proposing. He was trying to be a good friend and console me.” She winces, but visibly sighs in relief. How fucked up does Vanessa have her, exactly?

As if she can hear my thoughts, her face crumbles. “I’m sorry I accused you, Tomas, but in case you haven’t realized, I’m fucked up. Like, certifiably fucked up. I can’t help who I am. I can’t change what Julian did to me. Yes, I can start anxiety meds again, but that’s trading one set of problems for another. At least I can fucking orgasm when I’m not on meds,” she yells.

My heart splinters in two for her. I’d do anything, give away everything I own, to change her fucked up past. “I can’t fix what Julian did to you, either, but if I ever see him again, I’m going to fucking kill him,” I say calmly. And I mean every word.

“Stop talking,” she says, grabbing my collar and pulling me closer. As she plants her soft, pink lips against mine, a weight lifts from my shoulders.

“I have a better idea,” I say, grabbing her hand and leading her to the bathroom. She watches as I fill the tub with hot water, steam billowing throughout the bathroom. After peeling off her clothes, I extend a hand.

“Get in,” I prompt. Goosebumps form as the hot water contrasts with the cool air. She sinks deeper into the tub, and I grab her signature vanilla shampoo, lathering it between my hands.

“You don’t need to bathe me,” she whines. Even if I don’t have to, I can tell she appreciates the gesture from the tension in her delicate shoulders and the slight wobble in her voice.

“And if I want to?” I ask, lathering the shampoo through her thick curls.

“Then I won’t stop you,” she sighs. “It feels nice,” she admits after a moment. I rinse and repeat the process, this time with her coconut shampoo.

She breaks the silence with a dramatic yawn. “What else is on the agenda for today?” I shrug. “Besides dinner with your parents, giving you an orgasm, or six, then a nap,” I say with a wry smile.

“Six is a lot. I don’t know if I can have that many subsequently.” She would challenge me on a night neither of us have slept.

“Do you want to bet?” I ask, quipping a brow.

“No, I need sleep. Can we compromise?” she says with an exaggerated sigh.

“After you just brought out my competitive streak? I don’t know,” I ponder. She huffs a breath in mock protest. Fuck it, her bath’s over.

I press the drain at the bottom of the tub and grab a fluffy white towel for her. “You’re going to dry me off, too?” she asks with a rare, full-on cheesy grin, showcasing her adorable dimples.

“Yeah, but such a shame when you’re only going to get soaked again,” I say mischievously. She giggles as I scoop her into my arms, throwing her onto the bed.

I follow her onto the mattress, crawling up her lithe body. “Holy fuck. How did I get this lucky?” I murmur against her, kissing the taut lines of her stomach. Beads of water drip down her smooth, tanned skin. I peer up at her just in time to watch her mouth part, holding her wanton gaze as I catch a drop on my tongue.

“Jesus Christ,” she whispers.

“He has nothing to do with this, apple. The least you could do is moan my name.” I tsk, stifling a chuckle against her.

“You cocky motherfucker,” she gasps, arching against the bed as I kiss her hip.

“If you don’t close that pert little mouth, I’m going to stick my cock between those pouty little lips,” I warn.

“I have another set of lips,” she taunts.

“But that set isn’t giving me sass, now is it?” My trail of kisses continues down her hips, her pelvis, and up her thighs.

“You’re torturing me, Professor,” she grits out in a favorite line of hers. We both know just how desperate she is when she accepts defeat and utters it.

My tongue swipes at her clit in a long, singular motion. “Too bad you can’t do a damn thing about it, apple. You’re at my mercy.” I resume in another fluid motion, moving in the opposite direction of the first. She hisses, tugging the curls at the nape of my neck. I capture her wrist in my hand.

“Don’t make me restrain you, Miss Hamilton.” Capturing her other wrist, I don’t give her much of a choice before beginning a full-on assault. She hisses a breath, thrusting upward against me.

“You know, this is kinda like the way you tortured me in my lab. Is it not?”

“It’s worse, actually,” she rasps against my neck. My tongue circles her clit relentlessly until she’s on the precipice, then stops suddenly.

“So cruel,” she cries. I climb up her body with a wry smile.

“Am I now? I think it was cruel to leave me with a throbbing cock five minutes before my first lecture of the semester. Cruel would be leaving you this worked up before going to your parents’ house for dinner. You know what, we haven’t used that app-controlled vibrator yet, have we?”

“No,” she yells, horrified.

“Actually, forget the six orgasms. That sounds like much, much more fun,” I announce, getting up to raid her self-proclaimed treasure chest.

“Anywhere but my parents’ house. Please ,” she pleads, mortified. I can’t think about anything other than the prospective scene. A vision of her beat-red cheeks as she squirms against the chair in her parents’ regal dining room. My cock has been rock hard since I undressed her, but the thought of that sordid scene unfolding makes me throb.

In terrible, terrible timing, my cell phone rings.

“Hey, James,” I answer, warily.

“Hey, let’s postpone dinner until next Sunday. It’s not a good week.” He sounds tired. Maura’s port didn’t seem to be infected, just normal swelling and bruising.

“I’m sorry to hear Maura isn’t feeling well. Would you like to say hi to Olivia?” I offer. She glowers at me before taking the phone begrudgingly.

“Hi, Dad,” she says quietly. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but based on her expression, it isn’t too serious.

“What’s wrong with Mom?” I hold my breath, on standby, waiting for the sobs to break free.

“Okay. Well, let me know if you need me to pick up cold medicine. Love you. Oh, and stop stealing my boyfriend,” she says, giving me a fiery expression.

Another day, another lie by omission.

“ Get dressed. Hell, wear the dress from last night,” I tell her.

She scrunches her nose. “Umm…” she starts, scrunching her nose and pursing her lips.

“What’s that face for?” She scrunches her nose.

“I, uh, burnt the dress.” Her eyes flit to the floor, nervously.

“What do you mean, you burnt the dress? I fucking loved that dress.”

“I was a little upset last night. I don’t want to get dressed. I want you to curl up against me, and sleep until our alarms go off.”

I kiss her temple. “Who the hell am I to argue with that?” The two of us only make it as far as climbing before we both fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.