Chapter 64 64
Lucas stepped inside, shoulders slumped, tie already loosened and hanging crooked around his neck.
His suit jacket was draped over one arm, briefcase in the other hand. The day had dragged on longer than it had any right to.
The staff, ever attentive even at this hour, straightened immediately.
“Good evening, sir,” the head butler said with a small, respectful bow from near the staircase.
“Welcome home, Mr. Brooks,” one of the younger maids added softly, stepping back to give him space.
A security guard at the far end of the foyer dipped his head. “Evening, boss.”
Lucas managed a tired half-smile and a single nod. “Evening, everyone. Thanks. I’m… heading straight up.”
When he reached the double doors to the master suite, he exhaled long and low.
“Ohh… tired day,” he muttered to himself, voice rough with exhaustion.
He pushed the door open with his shoulder.
The room was dimly lit—only the soft glow of the bedside lamps and the warm flaah of candles someone had lit.
And there she was.
Olivia, completely bare, reclined across the center of the bed like she’d been poured there. Legs slightly parted, one knee bent lazily, hair spilling over the silk pillows.
She propped herself up on her elbows the second the door opened, eyes bright and hungry.
She smiled—slowly.
“Welcome home, my love,” she purred, voice low enough to raise goosebumps. “I’ve been waiting.”
Lucas froze in the doorway, briefcase slipping from his fingers to land with a dull thud on the carpet.
His tired eyes widened.
All the exhaustion in the world couldn’t stop the sudden, sharp jolt that went straight through him.
He swallowed hard.
“…Liv.”
The bedroom door clicked shut behind Lucas.
Olivia slid off the bed. She reached for the thin towel she'd draped loosely around herself earlier—more for the tease than for modesty—and let it fall to the floor with a soft thud.
Full breasts, nipples already tight from anticipation.
She stepped closer, hips swaying just enough to make the air feel thicker.
Lucas stood rooted near the door, still holding his discarded jacket, eyes wide and dark.
“Liv… wait,” he rasped, voice cracking on the last word. “I’m not… I’m not ready.”
Olivia tilted her head, a slow, smile curling her lips.
She closed the distance until she was right in front of him, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off her skin.
“But you had an erection at the office earlier today,” she murmured. “I saw it. We both saw it straining against your pants like it was trying to rip free. You couldn’t even stand up for me.”
She reached up, fingers brushing the lapel of his shirt as if she might start unbuttoning him herself.
Lucas turned his face away sharply, jaw clenched, breathing uneven. His hands flexed at his sides like he didn’t trust himself to touch her.
“Liv—”
“No.” She caught his chin gently but firmly, turning him back to face her. Her breasts brushed his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt. “Look at me, Lucas.”
He did—and the sight of her like this, naked and unashamed, made something low in his throat catch.
She pressed closer, her voice dropping to a husky whisper against his mouth.
“Fuck me, Lucas.”
The words hung between them, raw and urgent.
She slid one hand down his chest, lower, until her palm rested over the front of his trousers—feeling the truth he couldn’t hide anymore.
“Please,” she breathed, lips brushing the corner of his jaw. “I’ve waited five years. I’m done waiting.”
Lucas’s eyes fluttered shut for a second, a shudder running through him.
Lucas’s hands slid down to the curve of Olivia’s ass, fingers digging in just enough to lift her off the floor.
Her legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, thighs squeezing tight as he carried her the few steps to the wide mahogany desk by the window.
He stepped between her parted thighs, one hand still braced under her, the other sliding up her back to cradle the nape of her neck.
Their faces were inches apart. Her breath fanned hot against his lips.
His eyes locked on hers.
He leaned in slowly,like he was about to finally cross the line he’d drawn in the sand five years ago.
Then—mid-motion—something flashed behind his eyes.
A memory crashed over him like cold water.
Five years earlier.
The way she’d looked up at him with wide, trusting eyes right before their first kiss.
Lucas froze.
Then jerked back like he’d been burned.
“Liv—” His voice came out hoarse, cracked. He released her abruptly, hands dropping to his sides.
Olivia’s legs slid down from his waist. She stared at him, lips still parted, chest rising and falling fast.
He turned away sharply, snatching his suit jacket off the floor where it had fallen earlier.
“Uhm… excuse me, Liv,” he muttered, not meeting her eyes. “I’ll… I need a little privacy.”
He strode toward the bathroom door without another word, shoulders rigid, and disappeared inside. The lock clicked a second later.
Silence swallowed the room.
Olivia sat frozen on the edge of the desk, legs dangling, arms wrapped tightly around herself.
Then, slowly, she slid off the wood and reached for the silk robe that had been discarded on the chair. She pulled it on with jerky movements, tying the belt so hard the fabric creased.
Her hands trembled as she yanked it closed over her chest.
She stared at the closed bathroom door.
Her jaw clenched.
Fists balled at her sides.
One hundred.
This was the hundredth time.
A hundred rejections—big and small—over five fucking years.
Every time she thought he was finally letting go, finally ready, something inside him pulled the brakes.
She laughed once—a short, bitter sound that cracked in the middle.
“Privacy,” she whispered to the empty room, voice shaking with anger and something dangerously close to tears. “Right.”
She turned her back on the bathroom door, shoulders squared, chin high even though no one was there to see it.
The bathroom door had barely clicked shut before Lucas turned on the shower full blast.
He muttered to himself, voice low and ragged, barely audible over the roar of the water.
“What the hell were you doing, Brooks?”
He dragged a hand through his wet hair, water streaming down his face, stinging hi
s eyes.
“You had her. Naked. Willing. On your fucking desk. After five years of blue-balling her, of blue-balling yourself. And you still couldn’t do it.”