A Bird in the Oven - Kata Cuic Page 0,29
lose control?”
His brow furrows. The sight of Ollie pouting is one of my favorite things in the world. A man as sexy as he is shouldn’t be able to also pull off the cute little boy look. “I have never lost control. Not once. A woman in lingerie is not a factor in that very simple equation.”
“The painting that used to hang over my bed that fell on my head in the middle of the night from all the pounding you were doing over here says otherwise,” I mutter.
His expression grows more severe. “I am very good at following directions. I apologize that you felt inadvertent consequences of my obedience. I was unaware that was the case. How many times have I hurt you unintentionally?”
“Every time,” I admit on a whisper.
He finally glances at me with a deep frown. His gaze sweeps my nakedness from breasts to where the sheets are barely covering me from the waist down. His voice is a bitter growl in the back of his throat. “Then, I cannot afford to hurt you a single time more. In the interests of achieving that goal, please cover yourself. To be clear, put some clothes on.”
As tickled pink as I am over so many things, his request is a potent reminder that we have much harder work to accomplish than knocking me up by Thanksgiving. I allowed him to maintain his pride during the two years we shared an apartment as roommates, but things are different now. I can’t let him hide from me anymore in the same way he protects himself from everyone else. I have to make him understand I want far more from him than just his sculpted body, his magnificently skilled dick, and his super sperm. I want the whole, blindingly brilliant package. “No, Ollie. I don’t think I will.”
His gaze shoots to my face, his nostrils flared. “Are you trying to purposely provoke me to take you again, violently and against your will?”
I’m not necessarily opposed to that even as sore as I am, but that’s not the point I’m trying to delicately make. “You didn’t take me against my will, so I want you to promise me you’ll stop beating yourself up over that. Promise me right now, Oliver. You want me to be happy, and that will make me very happy.”
“Fine,” he grumbles. “I promise.”
That issue out of the way, I stretch and yawn and purposefully give myself up to his gaze that darts more often in my direction. “Good. It’s almost nine o’clock. You’re behind schedule. Go about your morning routine as you normally would. My Saturday routine is to lounge in bed all day, so I’m going to do exactly that.”
“You do not lounge naked in bed on Saturdays,” he bites out.
He would know. He’s barged into my room on quite a few occasions to try to drag me out of bed with promises of something fun to do together. I mostly declined on account of his not being mine to change my plans for. It was much easier to hide under the covers than to pretend our friendship meant more to him than what I believed it did.
“I do after a night of amazing sex,” I inform him.
“You were the one who insisted we not bring up past bed partners.” He’s pouting even harder. So precious. “I would very much appreciate if you could actually stick to that agreement.”
“You’re the best I’ve ever had,” I say to soothe his bruised pride, ignoring all the ways he hasn’t held up his end of that deal. I’m not lying. At all. No one has ever been Oliver in all his multi-faceted glory. “We’re going to live together for the next two months. That’s nothing we haven’t done before, but Ollie? Living together, engaging in sex, and purposefully trying to make a baby are all very different things. If we’re going to become parents to the same child, then we can’t have any secrets between us anymore. We have to be open and honest with each other.”
“I am one minute and approximately sixteen seconds from rolling you onto your stomach and plunging myself into whichever hole I find first,” he blurts.
A shudder of morbid anticipation rolls through me. Multiple men have begged for backdoor entrance, but I’ve never been keen on obliging. Until now. I’m not sure how accurate the timetable is, but the tent he’s creating with the sheets doesn’t lie. “Why is the time approximate? Why that specific position?