Stranger in my Ass-Chapter 290

Maxwell’s POV

I woke up in the middle of the night to the realization that something was very, very wrong.

Or very right, depending on how you looked at it.

And I absolutely could not look at it that way.

The room was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the storm clouds through the window.

But that wasn’t what woke me.

It was the warmth. The weight. The softness pressed against me.

Olivia.

Sometime during the night, she’d moved. Or I’d moved. Or we’d both moved toward each other in sleep, drawn together like magnets.

She was no longer on her side of the bed, maintaining careful distance.

She was draped over me like a blanket.

Her head was tucked under my chin, her breath warm against my neck. Her hand was spread across my chest, right over my heart - which was currently trying to beat its way out of my ribcage.

And her leg.

God, her leg.

It was thrown across my waist, her thigh pressed intimately against parts of me that were responding to her proximity in ways that were absolutely inappropriate given the boundaries she’d set.

I needed to move. Needed to get out of this bed before I did something I’d regret.

Before I forgot every promise I’d made about respecting her space and just rolled her beneath me and showed her exactly how much I wanted her.

Stop it, I commanded myself viciously. She’s asleep. She’s vulnerable. She trusted you to keep her safe, not to take advantage of her.

I tried to carefully extract myself from her embrace, slowly moving my arm from around her, trying to shift away without waking her.

But the moment I moved, her grip tightened.

Her fingers curled into my shirt, holding on to it like a lifeline. Her leg pressed more firmly against me, and she made a small sound of distress in her sleep.

I froze, my heart hammering.

"No," she murmured, still asleep. "Don’t go. Please don’t go."

Fuck.

Was she dreaming? Was she still having nightmares?

I couldn’t leave her like this. Couldn’t let her wake up alone and terrified.

But I also couldn’t stay here with her wrapped around me like this, her body warm and soft and so perfectly fitted against mine that it felt like torture.

I tried again, gently attempting to pry her fingers from my shirt.

She held on tighter, and this time the sound she made wasn’t distress.

It was a moan.

Soft. Breathy. The kind of sound that went straight through me like lightning.

"Fuck!" The curse exploded out of me, louder than I’d intended.

I abandoned all attempts at gentleness and just extracted myself from her embrace, practically throwing myself out of the bed.

I didn’t care if she woke up. Didn’t care if I startled her.

I needed out of the room before I lost what little control I had left.

I stumbled toward the door, my body screaming at me to go back, to climb back into that bed and finish what my subconscious had apparently started while I was sleeping.

But I didn’t.

I opened the door and escaped into the hallway, closing it behind me perhaps a bit harder than necessary.

Then I stood there in the dark hallway, my back against the wall, trying to get my breathing under control.

Trying to calm my racing heart.

Trying to will my body to stop responding to the memory of how she’d felt against me.

This was going to be the death of me.

Olivia was going to be the death of me.

And the worst part? I’d die happily if it meant getting to hold her like that again.

I made my way to my own room - the one with the red lamp - and collapsed onto the bed.

But sleep didn’t come.

Olivia’s POV

The moment I heard Maxwell’s door close down the hall, I opened my eyes and pressed my hand over my mouth to stifle my laughter.

That had been perfect.

Absolutely perfect.

I’d woken up about twenty minutes ago to find myself genuinely cuddled against Maxwell - apparently my sleeping self had no sense of boundaries - and was about to move back to my side of the bed when a delicious idea had occurred to me.

What if I didn’t move?

What if I held on tighter?

What if I made him so uncomfortable, so aroused, so desperate that he had no choice but to flee?

The temptation had been too strong to resist.

So I’d tightened my grip on his shirt. Pressed my leg more firmly against his waist. And when he’d tried to move away, I’d let out that breathy little moan that I knew would absolutely destroy him.

The curse that had exploded from him had been music to my ears.

And the way he’d practically thrown himself out of the bed? The way he’d fled the room like the hounds of hell were chasing him?

Chef’s kiss.

I rolled onto my back, my hand still pressed over my mouth, my shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

The next morning - Olivia’s POV

I woke to the smell of something cooking.

Bacon, maybe. Or sausage. Something savory and delicious that made my stomach growl.

I stretched lazily in bed, replaying last night’s victory in my mind, then reluctantly got up.

Time for today’s performance.

I pulled on my long bathrobe - the thick, fuzzy one that covered me from neck to ankles and made me look about as sexy as an oversized teddy bear. I didn’t want to be too obvious about the seduction. Had to keep him in the dark.

I walked out to find Maxwell in the kitchen, moving around with the ease of someone who knew his way around a stove.

He was making breakfast. Eggs, bacon, and toast.

He looked up when I entered, and I saw something flicker across his face before he schooled his expression into careful neutrality.

"Good morning," he said, his voice a little too formal. "I hope you slept well."

"Morning," I replied, then frowned slightly, making my voice confused. "I did sleep, but... it was weird."

He tensed. "Weird how?"

"I felt like I was drifting between dreams and reality all night," I said, moving closer to the table. "And I don’t know which was which. Did something happen last night?"

Maxwell’s hand tightened on the spatula he was holding.

"You were having nightmares," he said carefully. "About the intruder. About drowning. You were pretty shaken up, so I... I stayed with you. Until you fell asleep."

I looked up at him, letting my eyes go wide with shock.

"You stayed in my room?"

He nodded, not meeting my eyes.

"Where?" I pressed, even though I knew exactly where.

"On your bed," he admitted, and I could hear the discomfort in his voice.

I stared at him, keeping my expression completely unreadable. Not angry. Not pleased. Just... blank.

Let him wonder. Let him worry about whether he’d crossed a line.

The silence stretched out between us, thick and uncomfortable.

"Olivia, I..." Maxwell started, then stopped. "I didn’t want to intrude on your space. But you looked so scared, and you asked me to stay, and I didn’t know what else to do. You were holding onto me like..."

He cut himself off abruptly.

"Like what?" I asked quietly.

"Like you were afraid to let go," he finished. "Like the nightmares would come back if I left."

I nodded slowly, still giving him nothing.

Then I turned and grabbed my plate from the counter, deliberately avoiding his eyes, and walked to the living room.

I sat in the chair facing the window, looking out at the storm - which had calmed a bit, though rain still fell in a steady drizzle.

I could feel Maxwell’s eyes on me from the kitchen. Could practically hear his internal panic.

Did I offend her? Is she angry? What is she thinking?

Good. Let him spiral.

I ate slowly, savoring both the food and his discomfort.

It didn’t take long before I heard his footsteps approaching.

He sat down in the chair facing mine, his own plate forgotten in the kitchen.

"Olivia," he said. "I need to talk to you."

My heart gave a little lurch.

Was he leaving? Had I pushed too far? Was he fed up with my games and ready to walk away?

"What is it?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"I need to leave this house," he said.