CHAPTER 31: CHAPTER 31: THIS COULD BE YOU

Athena’s jaw dropped. "You’re lying."

"I’ve swallowed worse," he said smoothly, his gaze flicking down her body in a way that made her knees nearly buckle.

"Oliver!" she yelped, throwing the fork at him.

He caught it easily, laughing, his voice warm and sinful all at once. "What? I’m just telling the truth."

She stomped her foot like a child, her face beet red. " Stop saying stuffs like that."

He closed the distance between them and tugging her against him, not caring about the flour mess, "I only say stuff like that to you, Athena."

His hand lingered against her cheek, thumb brushing the faint streak of flour there as though it were precious. Oliver tilted her face up until her eyes couldn’t run anywhere but into his. Their lips hovered dangerously close, so close her breath tangled with his, warm and uneven.

Athena’s heart pounded like a drum.

"See?" he whispered, his voice deep, husky, and shamelessly sinful. "Not so bad having me swallow something that came from your hands."

Her breath hitched, the meaning dripping between his words. "Y-you’re..."

"Say it," he pressed, leaning in until his nose brushed hers, the tiniest graze, enough to make her knees buckle. "Say I’m disgusting. Say it while your lips are trembling for mine."

Athena’s lips parted, but no sound came out. She could feel his breath ghosting over her mouth, could smell the faint of coffee and burnt food between them. Her fingers, had curled into his shirt, holding him instead of pushing him away. That traitor.

"Oliver..." she whispered, the sound breaking.

His name on her lips was his undoing. He dipped lower, closing the unbearable gap by half a breath, his mouth grazing hers, barely, maddeningly, like he wanted to savor the anticipation more than the kiss itself. His hand slid to the back of her neck, holding her there, his thumb stroking slow circles against her heated skin.

Athena’s lashes fluttered, her lips trembling as if they wanted to meet his halfway. Her chest rose and fell rapidly.

Then, just when his lips was about to capture her lips into a mesmerizing kiss, she shoved at his chest with both hands, breaking free from his arms as a devilish smirk tugged up her lips.

"I need to take my bath" she blurted and she spun away so quickly that her hair whipped across his jaw, leaving the ghost of her scent behind.

Oliver chuckled, low and deep, dragging his tongue across his lower lip as if savoring the almost-taste of her. "Mm... so close, sweetheart." His voice followed her as she bolted toward the hallway. "Next time, you won’t escape."

Athena’s reply was the sound of her bare feet pattering against the floor as she darted off.

Oliver leaned back against the counter, still grinning like a man who’d won even in defeat.

Athena turned on the shower as she let the cold water cascade down her body, washing over her face, her hair plastered to her skin. Still, it wasn’t enough to quiet the storm inside.

Her palms pressed against the wall, fingers splayed against the cold tile as if she needed something solid to hold her upright. Her breathing came uneven, shallow, and each drop of water only reminded her of him, Oliver’s hands, his lips, the way he leaned in and trapped her in his arms.

Athena squeezed her eyes shut, her throat tightening as she bit her lips like she could taste him. She could still feel the heat of his breath against her skin, the way her chest had risen to meet his without her permission.

Her body betrayed her. Her pulse raced, her knees weakened, her core tightening in a way she didn’t dare name. She should have just kiss him or maybe let him bury his face her heat and let his tongue work on her clit, pussy, everywhere, instead of torturing herself now.

Her teeth sank into her lower lip until it hurt. Her eyes opened, glassy from the steam, staring at the blurry reflection of herself in the fogged glass. She didn’t recognize the look in her own eyes, the way her eyes dilated totally undone.

Athena dragged in a shaky breath, the water pounding harder against her shoulders. Her heart throbbed in her chest, too loud, too fast.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him again, Oliver’s smirk, the way his gaze pinned her in place, the soft rasp of his voice that slid straight through her defenses. She groaned softly, pressing her forehead to the wall.

"What’s wrong with me?" she whispered, though the water swallowed her voice.

Steam curled around her like a cage. Her body trembled, from the heat, from the way her thoughts grew louder, darker until she wasn’t seeing Oliver anymore but another face crept in, uninvited, just as vivid.

Rhydric.

Her lips parted on a shaky exhale as the memory sharpened against her will. The way he’d stopped when she called for him, the careless way she’d reached into his pocket to tug out his kerchief. She could still feel the weight of that moment.

He didn’t utter a word to her

Her throat tightened, her palms flattening harder against the slick tile wall. The water roared in her ears, but the memory roared louder.

Athena could picture him in the painful detail: the sharp line of his jaw, the slight furrow in his brow, the way the air itself seemed to bend around him when he moved. It hadn’t been her imagination. She felt it every time he drew near, the atmosphere shifted, thicker, heavier, like the world itself recognized his presence.

Her heart gave a strange, traitorous flutter. A small part of her liked the way he carried himself, not like she’s ever going to admit it.

Why was she remembering this? Why him, of all people?

She squeezed her eyes shut, but Rhydric’s cold face was stamped there, unshaken. That unreadable stare, those storm-cloud eyes, the ruthless calm in every line of his expression. He hadn’t touched her, hadn’t said a single thing but the memory of him lingered heavier than Oliver’s almost-kiss.

The water cascade down her skin, but a shiver slid down her spine.

Athena’s lips pressed into a trembling line. She didn’t understand it, why that one small moment clung to her, why it felt like he had carved himself into her mind without permission.

"...damn it," she whispered under her breath, her voice raw.

Slowly again her mind wandered off as another memory pushed its way in.

Eryx.

Her stomach knotted instantly. Flames. That’s what he was. Untamed, reckless, impossible to ignore. Her mind drifted to that classroom, the first time she’d ever laid eyes on him.

His smirk. His red hair catching the light. The arrogance in every line of his body, the ego in every thrust he made and what undid her the most, was the way he looked at her like he was putting on a show just for her.

Even as he buried himself into Adrianna.

Her breath hitched, and she pressed her head harder against the cold tile as the scene replayed, sharper now, almost cruel in how vividly it came.

Eryx behind Adrianna. His hand gripping her waist, forcing her down to meet every hard thrust. His mouth curved in a wolfish grin, sweat glinting against his temple, his muscles flexing making look like a sex God.

Her thighs trembled, the memory was so raw it clawed at her insides. She remembered the sting in her chest when he had dared to hold her gaze, as if saying without words, ’this could be you’.

Her hand twitched at her side. No. She couldn’t...

She shouldn’t be having this thoughts.

But her body betrayed her. Her legs shifted, rubbing together unconsciously, chasing relief. Heat flooded her, relentless, spreading lower until her clit pulsed with an ache so sharp she almost whimpered.

God. Just imagining herself in Adrianna’s place. Eryx’s strong hand gripping her hips, his chest pressed against her back, his lips brushing her ear as he pushed deeper. Athena shuddered hard, nearly slipping against the wet floor.

Her breath grew ragged, chest rising and falling too fast, every nerve alive with need.

She saw it so vividly, just like the vision she had of her dad. She felt it. Eryx’s thrusts weren’t gentle, they were punishing, raw, the kind that would leave her legs shaking long after. And he wouldn’t let her look away. No, he’d hold her there, eyes locked on hers until she broke apart under him.

Athena bit her lip so hard it almost hurt, trying to contain the sound bubbling up in her throat.

Her hand twitched again, almost moving lower. Almost.

"No," she whispered harshly to herself, squeezing her thighs together tighter, fighting the burn that spread through her.

But it was useless. Her body was begging. Her clit throbbed painfully with every beat of her heart, her core slick and aching, desperate for touch. She could practically feel Eryx pushing her against the shower wall, forcing her to take everything he gave.

Her knees buckled slightly, and she had to brace herself on the wall, her breath tearing out in a broken gasp.

Athena’s face burned under the spray of water, shame and need twisting inside her in equal measure. She had almost touched herself. Almost.

And still, the memory lingered. That wicked grin. That relentless thrust. That wild, burning energy. It was too much.

Why was she having this visions. They’re just as clear as the one she had of her dad. And still it lingered