“You know what would be really funny?”
“Hmm?”
“We should make really loud sex noises so they can hear us from downstairs.”
Oliver smirks. “Ryan mentioned the walls are pretty thin. Are you trying to get them to never invite us back here?”
I can’t help but notice the way he says “us” like he expects this charade to go on indefinitely and we’ll be invited back together one day. We’ll have to tell them the truth at some point, though. In the meantime, we can at least have some fun with this.
“What did you do with those condoms?” I ask.
His eyes widen. “You—” He clears his throat. “You want to use them?”
“We need to make it look like they’re used,” I say. “Unroll a few and pop them in the trash.”
He goes to the dresser where I saw him leave them earlier, before they disappeared. He opens a drawer and pulls the strip out. “How many?”
“As many as it will take to make them raise an eyebrow if they look in the trash.” I pull one of the foil packets off the strip and rip it open. I unroll the condom and stretch it out a little, then fling it at Oliver. He laughs, dodging it. He opens the next one and does the same, flinging it at me. It hits me in the face, which makes him laugh harder. I grab it and throw it back at him, but it goes right over his shoulder.
“This isn’t enough,” he says.
“More?” I take the strip back.
“No,” he says. “We need to make some noise.”
“Like… loud sex noises? So they can hear?” I know that I’m the one who first suggested it, but the thought of moaning loudly in front of him, even if it’s just for fun, makes me blush.
“Or we could make it more realistic,” he says.
“How do we do that?”
He steps closer to me. When he reaches me, he takes the strip of condoms out of my hand and drops it on the floor. Then he takes my waist in between his hands and he leans down and touches his lips to mine. I’m brought back to that moment in his bathroom. Was that this morning? It feels so long ago now. When his lips touch mine, I forget why I was upset earlier. He kisses me softly. His lips are warm against mine. It takes everything in my power to not bite his lip and pull him against me. I decide that I want this. At the very least, I don’t want to put a stop to it. I separate my lips from his and whisper, “I don’t know. I don’t think this is realistic enough.”
He pulls away to look at me, but he doesn’t take his hands off my waist. “Oh yeah? And what would make it more realistic for you?”
“I seem to remember you mentioning something about throwing me around on that bed,” I remind him.
His eyes darken. He slides his hands down and lifts me up so that my legs are around his waist. He carries me to the bed and throws me down. I land with a gasp, and he comes down on top of me. “Like that?” he growls.
I nod. “Something like that.”
He returns his lips to mine. His hand comes up my stomach, underneath my shirt. He stops when his fingertips reach the base of my bra. He kisses a trail from my lips, down my cheek, and onto my neck.
“It’s a little warm in here for clothes, don’t you think?” he says, his mouth against my neck.
“I was about to get in the shower,” I remind him.
“I can help you take them off,” he offers.
His kisses dip a little lower to my collarbone. I suck in a breath. I’m too turned on for my own good right now. I know that this can’t end well, but I go along with it anyway. “That’s what boyfriends do.”
“I am your boyfriend.” He lifts the bottom of my shirt and kisses a trail down my bare stomach.
“That’s what we want them to think,” I mumble. I’m barely able to contain myself when his mouth reaches the top of my jeans. I squirm. Oliver comes back up, this time pulling my shirt all the way off of me so that I’m only in my bra and jeans.
He tosses my shirt onto the floor, and then pulls his own off. He kneels over me and I take in the sight. I already had an idea of what his muscles might look like from seeing him in a tank top and feeling him against me, but seeing him like this is all new. I don’t realize that I’m holding my breath until I start to get lightheaded. It’s not until I look at his face that it occurs to me that he’s stopped too. His eyes wander over my stomach and linger on my chest before he meets my eyes again. I wonder if he’s realizing that we’re taking this too far. Maybe he’ll put a stop to it. He probably should.Iprobably should.
“I thought you were going to take a shower,” he reminds me.
