Oliver's hands migrate from Harper's back to the hem of her dress, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of her thighs. The sensation makes him pull back just enough to look at her, his breathing heavy and uneven. The reading glasses are now hanging precariously off one ear, but he does not care. "You are going to be the death of me," he mutters, his forehead dropping to rest against hers. His voice thick, stripped of the professional veneer he wears like armour at work. "I spend all afternoon in meetings thinking about this. About you." He shifts his grip, one hand moving to cradle the back of her head, his fingers threading through her auburn hair to hold her steady as he kisses the corner of her mouth, then her jawline, working his way down to the sensitive spot just below her ear.
"Tell me you want me as much as I want you," he murmurs against her skin, his lips barely touching her. "Want you?" Harper echoes breathless. "I spend most of today imagining you ripping me clothes off." Oliver's head snaps up, his blue eyes dark and blown wide with sudden, sharp intent. The words hit him like a physical blow, stripping away the last of his restraint. "You should not have said that," he growls, thought there is no warning in it– only promise. His hands move with newfound purpose, gripping the fabric of her dark blue dress at the shoulders. He does not pull, not yet, but the tension in his arms is palpable. He stares at her for a heartbeat, his chest heaving as he fights for control, but he is losing the battle quickly.
"Because I am about to do exactly that," he says, his voice low and dangerously steady despite the way his pulse is visible in his neck. He leans back just enough to reach for the zipper at the back of her dark blue dress, his fingers steady but his breathing ragged. Harper reaches for his black framed reading glasses and carefully takes them off him and places them on the table. Oliver's breath hitches as her finger brush against his temples, carefully removing the reading glasses. The gesture is surprisingly intimate, stripping away a barrier between them. He watches her place them on the coffee table with a focus that belies the chaos brewing inside him. "Good," he says, his voice rough. "I do not need those for this."
The zipper slides down with a soft hiss of fabric, and he does not waste time pulling the dress from her shoulders. It pools around her waist, revealing her delicate black lace bra. His dark blue eyes drink in the sight of her. "God, Harper. You are trying to kill me, aren't you?" he breathes out, his hands moving to cup her breasts through the lace. "Hey, I had every intention of taking our sweet time," she defended lightly. "But you are just so damn irresistible." A low chuckle rumbles in Oliver' chest, the sound rich with satisfaction. He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her breast where it spills over the edge of her bra. "Is that so?" he murmurs against her skin, his breath warm.
"I am glad I am not the only one losing my mind here." His hands move from her breasts to the clasp of her bra, fingers deftly working the fastening open. "Because if you keep looking at me like that, I am not going to be responsible for what happens next." The black lace falls away, revealing more of her to his hungry gaze. He tosses the garment aside without a second thought, his attention completely captivated by the sight of her bare skin in the dim lighting of his living room. "You have no idea what you do to me," he admits quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "I think I have an idea," Harper says with a soft smile. "You do the same to me." Her hand moves to the hem of his white t-shirt.
Oliver's breath catches as her fingers brush against the waistband of his sweatpants, his entire body going still for a moment. A low, appreciative sound escapes him, a mix of anticipation and surrender. "Is that so?" he asks, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. He leans into her touch, helping her pull the white t-shirt up and over his head in one fluid motion. The fabric gets tossed carelessly onto the sofa beside them. Now bare-chested, Oliver's organized life seems to have completely broken down. His black hair is messy, his glasses are forgotten on the table, and his breathing is ragged with need. "You are right," he admits, his hands finding their way back to her skin. "We are both completely irresistible to each other." His palms slide up her sides, mapping the curves he has been dreaming about all day.
Harper leans forward and slowly kisses him. The kiss is slow and deliberate, a stark contrast to the frantic energy that had been building between them moments before. Oliver melts into it immediately, his hands coming up to cradle her face as he meets her lips with equal softness. The tension in his shoulders eases slightly, replaced by a deep sense of contentment. He breaks the kiss just enough to speak against her mouth. "Like this," he murmurs, his voice full fo warmth. "I like when we take out time." His thumbs stroke gently along her cheekbones, his touch now reverent rather than demanding. His body shifts beneath her, adjusting their position on the sofa so they can both relax ore fully into the embrace.
The hard lines of the businessman have softened completely, leaving only Oliver– the man who misses Harper when she is gone for a few hours and counts down the minutes until he can see her again. "Me too," Harper says sweetly. "Like we have forever." Oliver's entire expressions soften at her words, a genuine smile replacing the hungry desire that had been consuming him moments ago. he pulls back just enough to look into her blue green eyes, his own gaze clear and filled with an emotion that goes beyond simple lust.