We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, both of us enjoying the culinary orgasms in our mouths. I sneak nervous glances at him while he spoons bite after bite of the cobbler into his mouth, releasing a few humming sounds. Finishing the last bite on my plate, I give him my best puppy dog eyes as I notice there are only a few bites left of the cobbler.

He grins. “Looks like you enjoyed it.”

“Yes, it was very good.”

He nods. “God, this cobbler is amazing. It’s still warm, too.”

“It must be good, you’re really hogging it down.” My comment comes out a little harsher than I intend.

He scoops up the last big bite and lets it hang in the air a few inches from his mouth.

My eyes tighten as I glare at him.

“Oh … did you want to try a bite?” he asks with a devilish smirk.

“No, that’s fine. It’s yours not mine.” I scoot my plate to the side and rest my elbows on the table.

He shrugs. “Okay, then.”

Never before have my eyes felt so close to popping out of their sockets. My mouth falls open as I gasp. “Oh my God! I can’t believe you ate the last bite!”

Oliver’s brow tenses as he inches the spoon out of his mouth wiping it clean with the tight seal of his lips. “What? I just asked you if—”

“I may have said no with my mouth, but my eyes were begging you for just one bite! Jeez, you can’t go on and on about how good it is and make those ridiculous sounds and not think that maybe I might want one little taste!”

His laughter cracks through the air and I fight my impending grin.

“Here.” He shoves the container in my direction. “You can lick the bowl.”

I roll my eyes. “Like I’m really gonna lick the bowl.”

“Suit yourself.”

He reaches for the bowl, but I snag it and pull it closer to me, wasting no time swiping my finger inside and sucking it off with my own heavenly moan.

“My God! You sure are a handful, woman.” He scoots back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest watching me clean the bowl like a starved animal.

I flip the switch as if I didn’t bite his head off two seconds ago. “So can you cook?”

His gaze stays on my mouth and he looks like he’s starving too, but not for food. It’s the same look he had at the doughnut shop. I’m not sure why he gets so captivated watching me eat. Weird.

He clears his throat and takes a deep swallow. “Yes, I can cook. My mom made sure both Chance and I could cook, do laundry, and sew on a button.”

“Wow, had I known all this time what a great catch your brother is, I might not have shot him down so many times.”

“Says the girl who doesn’t date.”

“Says the guy who doesn’t date.”

“Touché, Vivian.”

“So do you have dinner with your parents often?”

He nods. “Once a week since I moved back from Portland.”

I tap my fingernail on the table. “Maine?”

“Oregon.”

“Oh, how long did you live there?”

He purses his lips to the side. “Three years.”

“Why’d you move there?”

He clears his throat, diverting his gaze while adjusting his sitting position. “I took a job with a law firm there.”

Digging my teeth into the corner of my bottom lip, I wait for his eyes to meet mine. “I’m being nosy, I apologize.”

Oliver stands and grabs our dishes, clinking them together with wavering control. I sense it’s time for me to leave so I stand and follow him to the kitchen.

“Well, thanks for dinner. I feel like a mooch. Tell your mother it was wonderful … or not. It’s possible you might not want her to know you fed her leftovers to stray neighbors.”

His back is to me, hands pressed against the counter and head bowed. The air feels thick, almost suffocating. This isn’t how I saw the night ending.

“Okay … so I’ll just––”

“Stay.”

I’m not sure I heard him, so I wait for confirmation. My inner voice chastises me for not acknowledging the absurdity of this situation. I’m drawn to this man and I can’t give him what other women can, but every look, touch, and soft laugh makes it difficult to not want him. Maybe, just maybe he could be what I need––a relationship based on emotions without the need for physical gratification.

* * *

Oliver

My mind said “go” but my mouth said “stay.” Vivian has this innocence to her that is not of this world, and when I’m with her neither am I. We’re transported to some alternate universe where the past doesn’t exist and the future doesn’t matter. I need her to leave because I don’t trust myself around her. The hunger I feel for her touch is painful. When she placed her hand in mine I had to fight every urge to throw her in the backseat of my car, strip off her clothes, and taste every inch of her body. It’s possible I should be on meds or maybe I do need therapy. I wasn’t like this before. It’s just her, but I don’t know why. Yes, she’s beautiful—stunning actually—but it’s more and I don’t have a word for the more.

Maybe, just maybe she could be what I need––a physical release without the emotional investment.

I face her, allowing my eyes to drink in her soft features: silky skin, full lips, emerald eyes, and black hair that flows in endless waves down her back and over her breasts. The image of those perky breasts peeking through the thick black layers as she sits naked astride me stirs my dick. If her eyes drift a few degrees south, she’ll know how I react to her. I should care and try to hide it, but I don’t.

“Stay. Have some wine or more water, just … stay.”

“Wine, but only if you promise to carry me home when I pass out after two sips.” She brushes her hair back and wets her lips with a nervous graze of her teeth over the top one.

I’ve become my brother, imagining everything she does and says is an invitation into her pants. I’m the “nice” guy; the kiss goodnight on the cheek, opening doors, lavishing with flowers and jewelry, waiting until the third date to kiss on the lips and a month before copping a feel. The old Oliver would insist that sex is at least six weeks out, but my dick hasn’t gotten the memo. This new, completely lost Oliver is ready to tie her up and spank her … I’m not sure why people even do that, but I think modern women like it, so sure, I’d give it a try.

“So wine it is.” I grin while grabbing two glasses from the cabinet. “Do you live alone?”

Vivian laughs. “Why? Are you planning on stalking me and sexually assaulting me?”

Okay, so I think I’ll hold off on the spanking. I probably wouldn’t do it right anyway. “A little paranoid?”

“My roommate, Alex, her parents own the condo. They’re rich, I guess. Anyway, her boyfriend and my friend Kai are good friends so they introduced us when I needed to move to Cambridge. Alex is rarely there, so she was thrilled to have a roommate to look after things and one who needed a job. Maggie, her aunt, owns The Green Pot and needed some help running the nursery since she’s been battling cancer off and on for years. Alex’s parents agreed to keep the condo instead of having her move into student housing with the agreement that she’d work part-time for Maggie. So I get a job and cheap rent, and Alex helps out occasionally at the nursery, but mostly she makes her spending money off my rent payments. It’s a win-win.”

I hand her a glass of wine and motion to the couch. “Alex’s parents are okay with this arrangement?”

She sips her wine. “They don’t know. I make myself scarce when they come to visit.”

“And you’re okay with deceiving people you don’t even know?”

She waves her hand in the air dismissively as she swallows. “I know them. I come to ‘visit’ every time they’re in town. They love me, of course, because I’m such a good influence on Alex.”

“So why not just tell them the truth?”

Vivian tucks her legs underneath her. “They want Alex to stay busy with school and work so she doesn’t get distracted by guys.”

I shake my head. “It’s quite the con you two have going.”

“You don’t know half of it.” She takes another sip of her wine, and another, and another.

I anticipate having her naked within the hour. Reaching over, I fill her glass back up before it’s even halfway down.

God! What the hell is wrong with my brain?

“So why did you need to move to Cambridge?” I ask.

She giggles and I adjust myself because I’m already imagining her glazed over eyes calling to me. “My parents think I’m getting my business degree from Harvard.” She giggles some more.

My dick has officially taken a backseat to this conversation. As much as I want to avoid too much personal detail, her comment has my naturally curious mind turning its cogs. “Why do they think that?”

“Because I got accepted.”

There’s no way I could have seen this coming. Vivian doesn’t just surprise me, she knocks me on my ass leaving me speechless with everything she says and does. “To Harvard?”

“Yes, Oliver, to Harvard. Don’t look so surprised.”

I set my drink on the coffee table and adjust my body to face her. “Let me get this straight. You were accepted to Harvard. Your parents think you’re attending Harvard. You moved to Cambridge so they would believe you’re going to Harvard, but you’re not going to Harvard?”

She massages her temples with her thumb and middle finger then drags her fingers across her forehead “Yep, I’ve had way too much to drink.” She laughs. “So I’m not sure I caught all of your questions or statements or whatever, but … yes, yes, yes … and yes.” Full lips curl into a large and oh-so-proud smile like she just aced some big test.