Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
I do remember feeling lost. I remember wondering why I couldn’t play with Phoebe. So I kept to myself. Said very little. Gazed out the window. Even in my quiet shell, Oliver found me and gave me a great sense of relief.
Fear has no home in my body when he’s around. Strange how that is, but everything about my life could be classified as abnormal.
I skate my eyes over his mesmeric features. Olly is beautiful. Pieces of his hair curl around his ears—the strands not long enough to be a bother, but not short either. I’ve sunk my fingers into his glossy hair at its natural dark-chocolate-brown color, and I’ve slipped them into the dyed lighter walnut shade he has today. Grabbing and clutching as he pistoned into me.
Like he did late last night.
He’s not naked now. His white tank shows off carved biceps. The elastic waistband of his black boxer briefs accentuates the toned V-line of his muscles that I’ve trailed my tongue down once or twice. Okay, closer to a hundred times.
The problem: I’ve hallucinated Oliver before. I followed him into the storm shelter—or rather, a figment of him. One that I could never physically catch and grab.
Yet, gazing at Olly here and now, I’m not scared.
I feel myself ease, even as I say, “There’s a probability I never woke up this morning. That I’m still dreaming.”
“Hands.” Oliver holds out his, and I instinctually place my hands in his hands. His eyes never leave mine. His smile stretches as he rubs his thumbs along my palms. “She feels real to me.”
I nearly smile back. “Really anxious?”
“No, you have steady hands, Hails.” He lifts my palms to his cheeks, rests them tenderly against his jaw, and I breathe deeper, feeling—truly feeling Oliver. I glide my fingers over his slight stubble from not shaving yesterday. I thumb the soft skin beneath his glittering eyes.
The stress tensing my body begins to slip away. Because he’s not staring at me as if losing my mind is synonymous with a face full of pus-laden boils. He’s staring at me as if I’m perfectly Hailey.
As if I’m pretty.
Inside. Out.
Mad and all.
It’s what he’s good at—making people feel loved. He’s a trained flirt. He could cause a married woman to fall head over heels for him at first casual greeting. Which he has done. Multiple times for various con jobs. One of which I even constructed.
He’s the chameleon. An integral player on the board. I’m the mastermind. The one moving the pieces.
It’s not our roles that made me think we’d be an ill-fated couple. I’ve just never believed we could be anything more than fuck buddies, given both our proclivities to sleep around and bang anyone with a pulse. But lately, he’s only been sleeping with me, and I’ve only been sleeping with him and…Jake Koning Waterford.
Which he knows.
They both know about each other, but they’ve been avoiding each other to uncomplicate what should just be casual sex. I’m having casual sex with my best friend’s charming brother Oliver. And with the town’s treasured resident Jake.
Not to mention, Phoebe has spent a good majority of the year fake dating Jake while I was fucking him, so yeah…I am a great friend.
“Hails?” Oliver lifts my chin, and I realize my hands have slid off his face. “Where’d she go?”
“Down the rabbit hole.”
“Not without me, I hope.” He’s more serious. It’s hard to detect because he can expertly control his facial muscles, and the light never dims from his eyes. But I know Oliver well enough to see what he likes to hide. Before I ask for the real time, he’s already telling me, “Twelve-oh-five.”
“But I did wake up at nine this morning?”
“We did. Then I started reading to you.” He grasps my shoulders, holding me still so I don’t swivel in a dazed circle. “Which made you fall back asleep.”
I blink hard, remembering. “Little Red Riding Hood.”
He smiles. “Your obsession with wolves endures.”
I have been researching all about them. “Thanks for indulging.”
“Always and for never,” Oliver teases after I peel out of his grasp and search the bed for my phone. I feel him staring at my bare ass. He can’t see the smile trying to pinch my lips or the stinging heat against my face. I try not to advertise how much I enjoy our banter.
Because maybe he’d overdo it if he knew. I’d be just another girl he’s reeled in emotionally and spit back out. And this isn’t about emotions.
Not for me. Not for him. It is just sex.
Which…is precisely the cause of my current predicament. Sex. Intercourse. Sperm meet egg.
I’m pregnant.
The fact shoots to my brain every now and then, most especially when I’m clutching a toilet and spilling my guts up. But when I’m with Oliver, I’d like this knowledge to take a backseat.