Page 54 of The One Where They Fall in Love

LikeElle Thompson, what did you get yourself intoreal.

After Oliver assures Thor that he’ll take him out in a bit, we find ourselves standing on opposite sides of his dark room, staring at each other like one of us will disappear if we look away.

“Are you sure—”

“Yes,” I reply before he even finishes the question. It’s not lost on me that this is the most impulsive thing I’ve ever done. But I don’t want to deal with that fact right now. I want to do something impulsive and emotional and not care about the consequences.

I wantOliver.

I walk backwards until the back of my legs find the bed, and Oliver’s gaze follows my every movement. He takes small steps towards me and towers over me. I look up at him, taking a moment to scan every inch of his face, like I could keep a photo of it in my mind forever.

I reach behind my neck and untie the delicate string that is holding my shirt on my body. I let it drop to the floor next to me. Oliver’s eyes go dark as he inhales sharply.

“My imagination did not do you justice,” he growls, trailing a gentle finger across my collarbone.

“And how much have you imagined me, exactly?” I tease. A gentle moan escapes my lips when his hand cups my breast, his thumb sliding over my hardened nipple.

“I probably shouldn’t answer that,” he murmurs, as his hands continue to search and tease me.

Oliver takes my head in both of his hands, his fingers snaking through my hair, and presses his lips against mine, increasing his firmness with each passing second. He traces my mouth with his tongue and bites my bottom lip. He moves his lips to my neck, his teeth grazing my earlobe.

“Every day, since the first time I found you sleeping outside my door. That’s how much,” he whispers, the feel of his breath against my sensitive skin making my stomach tighten.

I sneak my hands under his shirt, sliding them up his chest, and tracing the lines of his stomach. I gasp a little tooloudly when he pulls the shirt over his head, and I would feel embarrassed if this was anyone else. But I can tell Oliver is just as desperate for this as I am. I run my hands up his chest and back down along his abs.

“I’ve waited so long to do this,” I say, my voice cracking. I kiss over his heart and run my lips down to his ribs, my fingers gripping the muscles of his stomach, desperate to get my hands on every inch of him.

Oliver threads his arms around me, picking me up and laying me down on the bed. He crawls over me, bracing himself on his forearms above me. I reach down for the buckle on his jeans, but in an instant he is gone, standing beside the bed. He takes my foot in his hand, placing a gentle kiss to my ankle before he pulls at the hem of my jeans. A grunt escapes him when he realizes what a task that is.

“I knew these things were painted on,” he groans.

I giggle, any lingering nerves fading away with the sight of a smile on Oliver’s face.

He eventually pulls the jeans off, and my underwear after them, leaving me exposed in front of him. He doesn’t return to the bed right away, taking a moment to look at me. He unbuckles his pants with one hand and when they drop to the floor, I swallow hard, my hips swaying with anticipation.

Woah.

“You know you just said that out loud, right?” he chuckles. I put my hands in front of my face, hiding from him, small giggles escaping me. Oliver leans over me and takes one of my hands, kisses my palm, and guides me to his shaft.

“This is what you do to me,” he says, his body twitching as I tighten my grip on him. I run my hand up and down hislength and lick my lips. I bring my mouth close to the head, and I just barely have my lips on it when he wraps his arms around me and moves me up towards the top of the bed.

“If you do that, we won’t be here for long. And I want to take my time,” he says, kissing the area below my belly button. A small whine escapes me as he kisses my hip bones, up my stomach and between my breasts, his hands exploring every inch of my body. I arch into him when he takes my breast into his mouth, feeling his bare chest against mine, and wanting us to be closer. He swirls his tongue around my nipple and I moan. When I grab him and pull him to my mouth, I can feel the smile on his lips.

He circles his fingers around my nipple and I moan into his mouth, my hips rising, searching for him. His hands grip my shoulders as if I’m grounding him in this moment. I run my fingers through his hair and throw my arms around him, pressing every bit of skin I can against him, but it still doesn’t feel like enough.

It feels like we stay that way for hours—kissing, biting, teasing. Oliver takes his time on each part of me—my neck, my breasts, my lips, and around again. All the while his hands roam across my body, his rough palms squeezing my softest parts, his fingers entwining with mine over my head. It’s months of anticipation, of waiting, of wondering, all coming together. It’s everything we’ve been afraid to say—every touch a secret we’ve been too nervous to share, every kiss a feeling we couldn’t place. But now that we’re here, everything is understood.

Finally, Oliver’s hand slides down my side and over my hips, his movements full of purpose this time. I widen my legs for him and he curses when he feels the wetness betweenmy thighs. Without missing a beat, he kisses me hard, his tongue licking the inside of my mouth while he presses a finger inside of me. I grip his shoulders, feeling a high that I have never experienced. I’ve been touched before, but it’s never felt like this. His thumb finds my clit, and he starts with slow circles, testing my reaction. He takes his fingers out of me and massages my clit with two fingers, increasing in pace. I can feel the heat building in my face and pressure between my legs. I know Oliver is waiting for something, but it doesn’t come, and a brief moment of worry passes through my mind, afraid that I’ve disappointed him. I feel the same pressure I remember from other times men have used their hands on me. The pressure to perform.

“Don’t disappear on me,” Oliver says in a low voice. I open my eyes when I feel him brushing strands of hair out of my face. “Stay here.”

He gently traces his fingers around my opening, his eyes never straying from mine. I take a deep breath and tell myself to relax, try to forget about what I’m supposed to look like or sound like in this moment, and just be. It’s a lot harder than it sounds.

“Keep your eyes on me,” Oliver commands when they start to flutter closed. “Tell me what feels good.” He gently pushes a finger into me, curling it inside me.

“Well, that doesn’t suck,” I say, breathy.

Oliver chuckles. He removes his hand and puts his thumb in his mouth, before putting his hand back, pushing two fingers inside me and rubbing my clit again. As he moves his hand, I feel a warmness in my belly, the instinct to move with him. He puts his arm down on my hips, keeping me in place.