Chapter 2

OLLIE

Ollie cursed his friend, Landon, for dragging him to come to the strip club with him that night, a month ago.

It was that night he met June— his obsession and his dark fantasy—, and he hated it.

That night wasn’t supposed to be about her. It was about proving Landon wrong, showing he could have fun if he wanted to. But instead, he’d proven himself wrong.

His supposed disinterest in everything had been a lie.

Since then his life had spiraled out of control. He hadn't been unable to shake off the hold she had on him no matter how much he tried

He had gone through five stages of grief over how one encounter with a woman could ruin him so completely before deciding to just ride it out. Besides, he hadn't had fun in a long time, and June was a lot of fun.

At the sound of the door, his head snapped toward it with anticipation that he hated to acknowledge.

Something untamed kept him on the edge whenever he came here to see June. It was as though she was a drug and he was a junkie craving his next fix.

When she stepped in, he sucked in a breath. Pathetic, even for him.

She strutted in like she owned the place, as if she paid for his service and not the other way around, like she was the queen and he was her lowly servant. But god was he complaining? The massive chip on her shoulder, kept things interesting. Until he figured out how to break her hold on him, he'd have fun with it.

His gaze followed her as she stepped into the light, his eyes trailing slowly over her body. She wore a miniskirt that barely covered her ass, paired with a lace top that rode up just enough to expose her belly button. The way the light hit her skin, highlighting every curve, was enough to drive him insane.

June was flawless. A masterpiece that couldn't be replicated. Every inch of her—from her perfectly shaped ass to her full breasts.

"You’re twenty minutes late,” he drawled as he leaned back on the couch and draped his arm lazily over the armrest. He waited, eager for her snarky retort—those witty comebacks were a highlight of their sessions.

He knew something was wrong when he got a long, weary sigh with "I'm sorry," from her.

He sat up, confused. In a month He’d been coming here, never had he heard June apologize for anything. So her sudden apology threw him off.

“Are you—.”

The music cut him off, and he swallowed his question. It was better not to ask. He shouldn’t care. He didn’t care. She was already too deep in his head, and worrying about her was a complication he didn’t need.

But as she began to dance, he couldn’t focus. His attention kept drifting back to the shadow in her eyes, the weariness that seemed to cling to her. Something was wrong. He knew it. Concern gnawed at him until he couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Stop.”

June froze, her movements halting without question. That, too, was unusual. Normally, she would groan, roll her eyes, or throw a snarky comment his way. She was defiant and full of fire. Instead, she stood there, silent

“Come over,” he ordered.

She sighed again, almost too tired to argue. She moved toward him, her form melting into the shadows until she stood in front of him.

“Closer,” He said.

Without protest, she took a step forward.

He raised his head, locking eyes with her brown gaze that gave out everything.

“Are you okay?” The softness in his voice startled him as much as it did her.

Her lips parted, but no word came through. Then she took a faltering step back.

Instinctively, his hand shot out, and caught her before she could fall. He spun her and pulled her onto his lap.

Her eyes widened.

“What are you doing?” she squirmed. Het ass brushed against his groin, making him bite back a groan.

“Quit moving unless you want to help with my boner."

A blush crept up her cheeks and her frantic movement stilled.

As her eyes darted around the room, his eyes caught sight of deep red bruises on her neck. His muscles tightened, his jaw clenching as anger bubbled onto the surface.

“Who did this to you?” he bit out, reached for her chin, and tilted her head to expose the bruise. The sight of it made his blood boil. If she told him who was responsible, they wouldn’t live to forget it.

“It’s none of your business,” she snapped, pulling her chin from his grasp.

“It is now," he growled, his voice holding a tremor he'd never heard.

Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. "You don't care."

"I do." The words clawed their way out before he could stop it.

A loud snort burst from her, as if the mere thought was absurd. Realizing what she'd done, her hand flew to her mouth, muffling a hasty, “sorry.”

His chest vibrated with amused chuckle. “Don't be, baby.”

“I'm not your baby."

“Yes, you are.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“Don't be so thick headed," she grumbled and he couldn't help, but grin.

A flush of pink crept up her cheeks as she gave him a playful punch to the arm. Her attempt to stop his laughter only made him grin wider. Between giggles, the tension shifted. The space between them dissolved, and suddenly, the air grew thick with charged proximity.

His nose brushed against hers, their breaths mixing in the tight space between them. He felt the soft press of her breasts against his chest and her fingers lingering on his shoulders.

His breath came out ragged as his gaze fell to her lips. So soft. So tempting.

God, he wanted to claim them, punish her for being such a tease, for making him wait, for driving him mad for weeks with her cold indifference. Heat rushed to his cock, and he had to force himself to look away.

As much as he wanted to give in, now wasn’t the time. So he sucked in a breath, and gathered his control, deciding to lift her off him. But before he could create more distance, June kissed him.

At first, his brain refused to register it. There was no way June was kissing him—June, who constantly reminded him of how much she didn’t want to be around him. It had to be one of his many fantasies about her. But then she moaned softly into his mouth, and reality crashed into him like a storm.

That sound—God, that sound—it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

"Thanks." It was when she murmured against his lips, only did he realize he’d said something aloud.

Without thinking, he cupped her face, his thumbs brushing her heated skin as he deepened the kiss. He kissed her like he’d been starving for it, exploring every curve and dip of her lips, savoring the taste of her like she was his last meal.

She tasted exactly how he imagined—sweet, dangerous, intoxicating—and infinitely better. She tasted like his downfall, like everything he should never have but always wanted.

The kiss turned wild and raw with need. Their breaths were heavy and mixed as desire clawed its way up. Their groans filled the small space around them, the air thick with lust. He needed more, needed her. The desperate urge to bury himself inside her was almost unbearable. His cock was so hard, it was unbearable.

When she reached for his zipper, reality snapped back into focus. He grabbed her hand, the fog of pleasure clearing just enough for him to think straight. “Not here,” he rasped, not caring how hoarse his voice were with need.

How he wanted her wasn’t a rushed thing. He needed to take his time, and to savor every moment. To unleash everything he’d been holding back.

"Let's take this somewhere else." He muttered.

As if his voice doused her in ice water, June flinched, stumbling backward. Her wide eyes locked on him, cheeks flushed with heat, lips swollen and tinged with pink from their kiss.

"Oh my god," she whimpered, her hands flying up to cover her mouth.

Before she could slip out of reach, Ollie's grip was already around her wrist, pulling her back to him with a tug.

A soft gasp slipped out of her mouth as her chest collied with his and her fingers splayed on his chest. She recoiled like she'd been burned as if she hadn't been running her hands on it minutes ago.

“Let go.”

“We aren’t done.”

Her breath came in shallow, and rapid bursts. Her chest rose and fell as if she couldn't catch it. "I—" she swallowed hard, the words catching in her throat. "This was a terrible mistake."

"Not for me," he murmured, his lips curling into a slow smirk. "I plan to treat it like a treasure." Thinking about it made him already want to have a do over. Though, he doubted June would ever be down.

Her sharp retort was back, and she snapped out.“Aww, and I'll proceed to wash my brain with bleach until there's no memory of tonight.”

Goddamn. She had no idea how much her sharp tongue turned him on.

He voice dropped as he asked. “At least tell me who gave you the bruises?" He needed to know, of not it would haunt him. “Who knows I may teach them a lesson.”

Her expression slammed shut, and she shoved hard against his chest. "None of your business."

“Goddamn June, why are you so stubborn?” he called after her as she strode towards the door.

She didn’t even spare him a glance before disappearing into the hallway, leaving him with a raging boner and the empty space she’d been.

He raked his fingers through his hair, muttering under his breath. What the hell was this girl doing to him?

If he couldn’t teach the bastard who hurt her a lesson, he could at least make sure she got treated. That was the only way he could actually have peace.

Before he knew it, he was reaching for his phone, his fingers already dialing his doctor's number.

The line barely rang before Dr. Williams answered.

"Ollie Kane speaking." He said.